Shades of Desire: 10 Sweet & Spicy Romances

by J. A. Coffey

  Mikolas slid his hand up inside his shirt until his grip closed in on the firearm. With the noise from the pool being so loud and the silencer to help hide the pop-pop sound of the gun, Mikolas had confidence that he'd do this hit without drawing much attention.

  Everything seemed to have switched into slow motion as he pulled the Glock out, making sure the gun stayed, with the help of the towel, out of view of the women waiting at the bar along with anyone else who might've became curious about the meeting between the men.

  He yanked the hammer of the Glock back and aimed the firearm without a tremble of his hand. One shot went through the thin lens of Curly's sunglasses, making the man slump over. Mikolas took a step to one side to change the angle of his aim. Even though the one bullet through the eye had been required for this job as a way to say, "We are watching you," Mikolas had to make sure the man died. Another shot to the temple completed the task.

  Mikolas strolled away unnoticed around the pool and out of the gate the way he had come. Job done. Message sent.

  While on the job, Mikolas' heart needed to be stone cold, but whenever Gabi was around, every part of him warmed. Now he could find out if Gabi would be joining him or if he'd be going off alone.

  Chapter Four

  With Jenna, Gabrielle's assistant manager, available to cover the store until Gabrielle's mother straightened things out for Gabi's absence, she was able to come up with a more concrete plan to get Mikolas out of town with her. An entire morning had been filled with research. Googling "How to effectively kidnap someone" had brought up a few tips, and by two p.m. she'd made the call. With him agreeing to come right over, it left no room for her to be nervous.

  Gabrielle pushed her hair away from her face and hoped she looked like she wasn't up to anything sneaky. Nothing in the tips she read instructed her on what to wear. Common sense said to dress like she expected a comfortable afternoon at home. No matter what, Mikolas, who should be arriving at any moment, couldn't be alarmed in order for her to remain in control of the kidnapping.

  She glanced out the window. He'd never been to her house before. Had he gotten lost? The extra minutes gave her another chance to check herself one last time in the large mirror, even though her looks should be the last thing on her mind.

  "Calm down, Gabi," she said to soothe her nerves. "The makeup doesn't matter, neither does your hair." As long as everything went according to her plan, she'd have several days alone with Mikolas then she'd worry about how she looked.

  When she'd called him, she hadn't expected him to be available within an hour. Such a short amount of time hadn't given her much time to prepare for their departure, but none of that held any more importance than her make-up. Only the hidden handgun mattered.

  And so did the ringing doorbell.

  After taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, she pulled the door open to see Mik, dressed in his usual attire, dark wrinkle-free slacks, a gray and blue striped dress shirt and black shoes, standing on her porch.

  Her breath caught in her chest as she stared up at him. A compliment about his appearance lingered on her tongue, but she couldn't find her voice long enough to say the words. Focus, she thought. The kidnapping needed to be executed quickly to be effective.

  "Hi," he said.

  Forcing a smile, she said, "Come in." She pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him pass through.

  "Thanks for inviting me."

  "I'm glad you came." She led him into the formal living room. It probably had been the first time anyone, including herself, had even sat down in there after she'd moved in. Just like the formal room at her parents' house, Gabrielle believed it should be used for special, but this room provided the easiest exit. "Want something to drink?"

  "What do you have?"

  "Wine and champagne. Fine labels on both."

  He smiled. "I wouldn't have expected anything less from you, but bottled water sounds great. Any of that fancy stuff?"

  "Make yourself at home. I'll be back in a minute." She walked into the kitchen, but instead of going to the fridge, she quietly pulled open the kitchen drawer.

  *****

  Johnny swung his gaze from one picture after the other in an attempt to calm his nerves. Sinking into his second persona needed to happen before the heavy office doors opened, which would be at any moment. Johnny no-last-name was who he needed to become. He already had changed his clothing, styled his hair differently, added some glasses, plus changed his name as part of his disguise. Now he just needed to feel like Johnny.

  He closed his eyes to let all the power muster through his body. When he opened his eyes, he stood up straighter, and crinkled his eyebrows closer together as he eyed the pictures of celebrities who had visited Lady Eve Casino that lined the walls. Each woman in the picture had one of her arms draped around the shoulders of the casino's owner, Anthony Regusa.

  Johnny glanced down at the plush midnight-blue upholstered chair and contemplated sitting in it, but if he did, he'd only last a second before he started pacing again. He might as well stay on his feet while he panicked. He knew what the Mafia boss wanted. Mr. Regusa never demanded a meeting under pleasant circumstances.

  Curly's untimely death hadn't hit the twenty-four hour old mark but was about to cause the heat to get cranked up on high under Johnny's ass. The boss wanted Enrico dead long before Curly's demise. Of course, Mr. Regusa knew Johnny held some connections to the Medini Family, but Johnny refused to reveal how deep in the other family he happened to be, and seemed fine with working for both of the high profile crime Families.

  This boss doubled the pay for him to be a spy, which was why he now stood in the lobby of the boss's office. Johnny hadn't warned the Regusa Family about Curly's hit. Honestly, Johnny couldn't have revealed the info when it came right down to it. How was Johnny to know in advance that Mikolas had the orders to kill Curly Joe before it had happened? Enrico usually picked one of them to handle the specifics of the job, rarely discussing hits with the other men. People showed up missing. Their deaths were usually well executed, never pinpointed to a particular killer.

  Johnny had lucked out when he'd arrived at the Medini mansion to overhear Enrico confirm the job had been completed by Mikolas. He didn't know for sure who Enrico had been talking to but guessed the person on the other end of the call had been Enrico's underboss. No worries, Johnny had all the info he needed for this appointment.

  He had to give it to Mikolas, though. That man sure possessed a pair of brass balls to pull off a hit as risky as Curly Joe's. The Don's son on his own property? Johnny smirked. Mikolas might have more skill than Johnny, but he'd take Mik out if push came to shove. Mikolas Russo would be dead alongside his boss, Enrico Medini.

  Maybe luck had finally arrived for Johnny, making Mr. Regusa summon him to add another hit to his list. Mikolas Russo? Even if he wasn't added to the list, if Mik got in the way of Johnny's huge paycheck, he'd take out both marks, Mikolas and Enrico, at once. Just entertainment.

  The office door opened, pulling him from his thoughts. A beefed-up bodyguard motioned with a wave of his hand for him. Johnny jammed his fists into his pockets and stepped forward.

  "Mr. Regusa says to pat you down." The bodyguard cocked his head toward the wall. "Face the wall and spread your legs."

  "Fine." Johnny knew the drill. It wasn't like this was new. He had to go through this bullshit each time he visited Mr. Regusa. He placed his palms flat against the ivory colored wallpaper and spread his feet far apart. The bodyguard's thin hands patted Johnny's sides, over his ass, and then starting at one of his feet and went up his legs.

  Anger boiled through Johnny. He was doing them a favor by betraying his original Family, and they're treating him like this? Bullshit.

  "He's good," Mr. Regusa said in a gruff voice. To the bodyguard he ordered, "Wait outside while we attend to business."

  Johnny watched as the bodyguard left the office before turning back to Mr. Regusa. Fear of the boss clawed through him like a s
avage beast. Forcing himself to be strong, Johnny replaced his hands in his jean pockets while looking the Mafia boss square in his rock-hard, dark brown eyes. There wasn't time to be scared while dealing with these ruthless men or he'd find himself with a bullet in his dome.

  "Why isn't there an obituary in the paper for Enrico Medini?" Mr. Regusa's thick arms folded tight over his chest, a substantial cigar hung out of his mouth while hate radiated from him.

  "I can't just walk up to him and pop a bullet into his head." The words slipped out, and he couldn't take them back. He had screwed up big time.

  Mr. Regusa's giant hands slammed down on the wood desk. "Why the fuck not? That is what he did to my son." His voice boomed through the office like an explosion.

  "I'm really sorry about Curly Joe." Total lie. He didn't give a shit about Mr. Regusa anymore than he cared about anyone in the Medini Family. He held his hands up as if to fend off a giant beast. "In exchange for additional time, I'll give you some more information."

  "I don't like this." Mr. Regusa's cheeks deflated as he leaned back. "What do you have for me?" The soggy cigar stuck to his bottom lip with saliva as he talked. The stench swirled in a cloud of smoke around the Don's fat head. The only thing that mattered though was the thick stack of cash he handed out for jobs well done.

  He sucked in his breath and slowly let it out. What he had for the man was huge and hopefully would put him, once again, on the right track. Johnny's pulse raced as he said, "I know who murdered your son."

  For the first time since entering the room, Mr. Regusa put the cigar down to rest in the gold ashtray. He meant business now. "Who did it?"

  "Mikolas Russo, Leon Russo's son."

  A slow grin spread across Mr. Regusa's face. "How much time do you need?"

  His heart swelled with excitement, knowing his plan had worked. "A week. Two at the most, but I assure you, the completion of the job will be well above your expectations."

  "Tell me everything you know about the son-of-a-bitch who killed my Curly Joe."

  Yep, Mikolas Russo would be dead soon and he'd get paid to do it.

  *****

  Mikolas had tried to envision the inside of Gabi's house many times in his life, but never in his dreams would he think it looked like this.

  The room was white, but the pictures on the mantle were cased in glittery pink frames. The center picture caught his eye first. In the photo, Mikolas stood with her, both fifteen-years-old. He'd wanted to put his arm around her so bad that day but didn't have the balls so she had placed her hand on his shoulder. He looked as though he would run away from her at any second while she wore a look of innocence. Mikolas remembered the party as if it had been yesterday.

  The other pictures were of her over the years. Some were in Italy, some Paris, and one of the pictures was of her in an evening gown standing beside someone famous. He knew the face but couldn't remember the movie star's name. They were standing in front of the Picasso Museum in Spain. What a life she'd had for just being twenty-five. Could he provide her with anything close even if she chooses to go with him? He doubted it.

  "Mikolas?" Her voice sounded like an angel's.

  "I missed out on a big part of your life, Gabi. You look absolutely beautiful in this picture. I have to tell you something before I lose my nerve." He turned. "I've loved-"

  The .22 glistened underneath the florescent lighting.

  His heart caught in his chest. "What the hell is going on?" he asked as his hands rose in the air. He took a step back.

  Chapter Five

  I put fear into the eyes of a member of the Mafia. I'm doing well, she thought, now keep him scared. She forced herself to ignore the sentence he had been about to say before he had seen the gun. It had sounded like he was going to tell her he loved her. High hopes? Delusional? She wasn't entirely sure that was the case anymore. Things were changing between them at a rapid pace.

  Kidnap him now. Love him later.

  "Let's go." She cocked her head toward the door.

  He tried to take a step in her direction. She brought her free hand up to help steady the gun. She couldn't let him notice her trembling hands. If he figured out how scared she was, this entire thing would be over.

  He slowly slid his hand to his side. She wasn't stupid. He had a gun on him somewhere.

  "How about you put that gun on the floor and kick it over here?"

  His hand remained against his side. It would only take a split second to have a face-off with him. Sure, she knew how to shoot and felt comfortable around firearms. Her father had taught her as a child, but she'd lose if forced to go barrel-to-barrel with Mik.

  The Google instructions said to disarm the kidnapee and remain in control. She could do that.

  "That's the only time I'm asking nice, Mik." She deepened her voice in an attempt to sound tough even though the temptation to rush into his arms almost overwhelmed her.

  "You're going to hurt someone. If it's not me then it'll be yourself." He moved his hand from his side but held it out toward her as if he intended to snatch her gun. "Give me the gun."

  "Don't move or I'll blow your ass away," she ordered. Hopefully he didn't notice the slight tremble in her voice.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. The mocking smile had left his delicious mouth. "What's this all about, Gabi?"

  "You're pissing me off right now. I said to put your gun on the floor and slide it over here."

  He yanked his shirt to reveal a holster secured around his toned chest. She smiled, knowing that her instincts had been correct as he withdrew the Glock and slowly set it on the floor in front of his feet. His gaze locked with hers. "Tell me what this is about."

  "You'll know soon enough. Kick it over to me."

  "I'd like to know now. Did one of the guys give you a job after all?" He pushed the gun across the floor and it stopped at her feet. Her hair fell in her face as she bent over to pick it up, giving him a great opportunity to apprehend her. He didn't act on the chance. Two more tasks were added to her to-do list before leaving her house. She needed a place to stash the extra gun and to put her hair up before he took advantage of the situation. She should've thought this through better, but she would continue on with her plan since it was a miracle she had gotten this far with him.

  Motioning with the gun toward the door to the garage, she said, "We're leaving. Let's go. Now."

  "Fine. You did a great job setting me up. I'm impressed." The scowl on his face contradicted every one of his words. With erect shoulders, he strode to the door. Mik was impressed? Couldn't fool her. She'd pissed him off in grand style and knowing that made her heart race with fear.

  Don't let emotions interfere with the kidnapping. When she'd first read the article she had wanted to laugh at the tip. Had the author ever kidnapped someone they were in love with? She highly doubted it. Gabrielle was about to take Mik to a cabin where they'd be alone until she decided it was safe for them to return. She could barely contain her emotions now. Hiding the jumbled ball of feelings inside of her while at the cabin seemed impossible.

  She paused after a few steps, second guessing her mission to save the two men who meant the world to her. But if she didn't follow through, she would fail both Mik and her father. "Yeah, right." She nodded and kept the gun aimed on him. "Go."

  She waited for him to walk passed her, making sure she remained a few feet behind him, and then followed him to the door. When he stopped just before the threshold, she nudged him between the shoulder blades with the barrel of the gun.

  "Ouch," he yelped and took a quick step forward and glared back at her.

  "Oh, sorry." Heat rushed over her cheeks. She messed up already. It's okay, she thought, you haven't lost anything yet. Just need to get back in control.

  "Do you even know how to shoot that thing?" he asked with a laugh as he stepped into the garage. "Or did you learn that from the Soprano's, too?"

  "Are you just going along with this to humor me? If that's the case, I'm not laughing." Sh
e fought the urge to clock him with the gun. She said, "Of course I know how to shoot. My dad is the Don of this Family."

  "I guess you're right. That's probably the stupidest question of the year." Once they reached the car, he glanced back at her.

  "Sure is." As soon as the deadly shooting happened in her bedroom that night, her father had dragged her to the shooting range two days a week for lessons. She wasn't great, but she could hit a target at a good distance. One thing she lacked was the talent to hit a moving mark. More than that, she held an interest in guns and owned three. But hopefully she wouldn't have to actually fire at anyone to prove her shooting ability in handling deadly weapons. Maybe he'd just take her word for it.

  She motioned toward her silver vehicle. "We're leaving in my car."

  He walked over to the passenger side of the convertible and slid his foot inside when she had another thought. Taking a convertible where they were going? People were sure to get suspicious. His SUV would fit in better up in the mountain.

  "Change of plans." She grabbed her bag from the front seat and slid the extra gun inside the side pocket.

  She pushed the controls for the garage door, letting in the brilliant Nevada sun and chilly breeze swooshed through the small space. She blinked at the brightness and slipped on her silver sunglasses.

  "Where are we going?"

  "All that matters to you is that we're going in your SUV to keep you alive."

  "What do you mean by that? Someone wants to kill me?"

  "Stop asking questions," she snapped.

  She hated being a hard ass to him. She'd rather be showing him how much she loved him which she never had a chance to do. Her resolve began slipping. Stop, she reminded herself, no feelings yet. As long as he didn't run or kill her first, they'd have time to get all mushy once they were safely tucked away at their destination.