by Kim Linwood
“You won’t break me,” I whisper.
The low noise of pleasure that leaves his throat as he begins to move echoes hotly through my veins. “I could.” Payne’s raw whisper tickles my throat and his fingers tighten on my wrists.
I think it would be a tougher fight than he’d expect, but he’s right.
“You could,” I acknowledge, my back arching to meet his thrust. “But you won’t.”
His teeth sink into my shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark. I gasp, and he must be able to feel the way I tighten around him, because I sure feel the way he thickens in response.
He slides into me hard and fast, shifting his arms to cage me in. Hands finally free, I wrap one into his hair while the other strokes down his back. Muscles move under my fingers, and I circle my hips. The length of him slides over my clit as he drives deep. Payne grunts as my nails dig into his sweat-slicked skin.
Our hips slam together, filling the room with the wet sounds of sex. His every move is controlled, but none of them gentle. It’s not making love, but it’s not just fucking either. It’s something more. When the first sparks of my climax catch, I gasp his name and press my breasts against the hard plane of his chest.
“God, Payne, fuck me.”
He growls, and thrusts harder. He's thick, but I'm so ready. I easily accept him and all I feel is the glorious pressure of him deep inside me. Despite his warning before we started, he shows no sign of finishing before the churning pull deep in my core reaches its explosive limit. He’s close, but he’s waiting for me.
Our eyes meet, and I wonder if the lust in mine shines as brightly as his. His shoulders flex as he moves above me. I raise myself up and flick my tongue over one of his small nipples, loving the taste of him. Sex, sweat and skin, a heady concoction that's primal and wild.
At my touch, he swells and his rhythm is thrown off. He moans, his erratic thrusts sending wonderful little tingles radiating out from my center, swirling through me from the tips of my toes to the tips of my fingers.
I’m going to come, I can feel it. Now it’s fucking. There is no better word. Hard, animalistic fucking. We’re two bodies racing together to the edge of control, with little thought for anything but the whirlwind of sensations flowing through us. Between us.
My eyes close, the darkness behind my eyelids exploding into color as I unravel around his hard cock. I struggle now for real, fighting for every scrap of pleasure. Payne groans, slamming into me as he charges towards his own completion.
I cry out, keening and gasping for breath as my climax ratchets through me until I don't know which way is up.
And right when I think I might die from too much pleasure, he pushes deep with a throaty moan. So deep. He holds me down, locking me in place as he swells and pulses over and over. Spent, he collapses over me, only supported by his elbows, his body slick and heavy.
Small aftershocks of pleasure make me gasp and squirm. He chuckles, and brushes his lips over mine in a gesture that’s almost loving. I’ve been well and truly claimed.
He's the first to speak. “Goddamn.”
I laugh, and he groans at the way it makes me tighten around him. It has to happen, but when he reaches between us and carefully pulls away, I sigh at the loss. He wasn’t my first, but he might as well have been, because it’s never been like that before. Never.
“That was… even better than I thought it'd be.” Still lying heavily across me, his words are right in my ear.
I kiss his powerful shoulder, which is right in front of me, tasting the salt in his sweat. “Not bad for round one.”
His body shakes subtly as he chuckles. “Is that a challenge, officer?”
“It might be. Ask me again when I can feel my legs.”
Payne brushes a lock of hair off my shoulder and runs his fingers over my collarbone. Even though my body feels like a limp towel, my nipples harden at his touch and I feel a tug. He grins at how easily I respond.
“Let me go clean up and then you can have the bathroom, okay?” He stands, giving me a prime opportunity to run my eyes over the hard planes and sharp angles of his body, muscular in a purely masculine way that calls to me. His half-hard cock makes my mouth water, already thinking of ways of getting him back up and ready for more.
I hardly recognize myself. One look at him and I go all man-crazy.
Payne’s phone buzzes after he disappears into the bathroom, and without really thinking, I slide it out of the pocket of his discarded jeans.
Vito’s Pizzeria?
What kind of pizza place calls you?
I drop it like a hot potato, confused and not wanting Payne to come out and see me fiddling with his phone. Except I’m still all fumbly, and my hand brushes the screen.
“Hello?” A gruff, Italian accent speaks up from the sheets.
Crap.
I can’t think of any appropriate response to this situation. Do I answer?
“Are you fucking there?”
Cringing, I pick up the phone. “Hello?”
“Who the fuck are you?” an angry and vaguely familiar voice demands.
“Who the fuck are you?” I blurt out in reflex.
“Bitch,” he mutters, and then shouts something in Italian before hanging up.
I stare in shock at the display. It’s probably not him. It can’t be him.
But it sounded exactly like the Mafia goon Trabucco met with yesterday. The running of water in the bathroom jumpstarts me back into action.
Double crap.
After quickly tapping into the contact to get the number, I shove Payne’s phone back into his jeans. Scrambling for my own phone, I hurry to put in the number before I forget it. When he comes out of the bathroom, I give him my best good cop smile and hold up my cell. “Pizza?”
20
Nora
“So that’s your fella? Bit of a giant, isn’t he? I mean you’re so small…” Alderman Trabucco trails off, shooting me an assessing sort of look that creeps me out.
I give him a thin smile, holding myself back from making an “I’m bigger on the inside” joke, both because it would be horribly inappropriate at work, and because I’m not sure Trabucco is a Doctor Who fan.
Through the window, we watch Payne crossing the street below, heading off to cover some fundraising brunch. There’s always this vague lack of details that nags at me, but I know he does work. I even googled his name and stalked his stock photo accounts.
But I’m still not convinced that’s what he’s really about.
My heart says to trust him, but my instincts are on edge. I tracked the phone number that called him yesterday to an old-school Italian deli and pizzeria. Suspicious? Yes, but what can I accuse him of? Having too close a relationship with the spicy pastrami guy?
“I envy you, Keaton. You know that? Your entire life is ahead of you. All firm skin and tight ass and—”
My look stops him in his tracks.
He coughs. “And infinite possibilities.”
“Come on, sir. You’re what? Fifty? You’re nowhere near done.” I lowball his age, and note that he doesn’t bother correcting me.
“Nice of you to say, but I’m too old to switch tracks mid-race.” He leans back in his chair and opens his desk to pull out an envelope. “Here, and I trust you remember the NDA you signed?”
I nod, apprehension growing. “Of course, sir.”
There isn’t much inside, and what’s there is more blacked out than not, but the more I read, the worse it gets. “Sir, this is way more than I signed up for. You need more people, people with experience.”
The papers in my hand detail the alderman’s schedule, and the points where his FBI contacts think he is at the most risk. I immediately think about the suspicious meeting on Saturday, and things start to click into place.
Trabucco took me—a rookie whose most intense assignment to date involved a really complicated coffee order—to a meeting with the Mob, knowing full well someone wants him dead? What t
he hell is wrong with him?
He shakes his head. “Pulling in anyone else would raise too much attention. I asked for you because you’re new, and because of your father’s record. Right now everyone just thinks I’m a dirty old man who wants a pretty young bodyguard.”
Something that might still be true.
And now it might get me killed.
“Sir, this is really more than I can handle. Why didn’t I find out about any of this when I started last week?”
“Because it’s not your job.” Trabucco waves a hand dismissively. “The FBI has people on it. It’s just that recently things have started to escalate, and after this weekend, they decided it would be safer if you know a little bit about what’s happening.” He fixes me with a hard gaze. “Just keep doing your job, and leave the heavy lifting to the professionals, alright?”
“Of course, sir.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and out of reflex I check. It’s a picture of the counter at Joe’s, courtesy of Payne. Lunch later?
I ignore him, unable to think about a lunch date and how woefully inadequate I am to deal with a possible assassination attempt at the same time. My brain just doesn’t want to process it.
“What am I supposed to do?” I whisper, long past expecting Trabucco to have a reasonable answer.
The alderman fires up his laptop, unconcerned. “Keep your eyes open. They don’t expect you to personally take down the Mob or throw yourself in front of a bullet.” He cocks his head and thinks. “Actually, the second one is sort of your job come to think of it, but mostly you just need to let me know if you see anything that seems off.”
“They know who I am.” My eyes keep going to the same note, over and over again. “The Mob knows who I am.”
“Sorry about that, I was hoping bringing you along on Saturday would convince them you could be trusted.”
This whole time I was worried about if Payne was a danger to me, but now I have to consider that I might be the dangerous one. If someone decides I’m in the way, anyone around me could be targeted.
I spend the rest of the day in a daze, and when quitting time finally comes, I escort Trabucco to his car. For the first time I really understand why my father was so upset about my assignment. He might not have known exactly what was going on, but I bet he had a better guess than I did.
The limo pulls away, leaving me feeling incredibly exposed.
“Hey, I missed you this afternoon,” Payne’s deep voice startles me out of my daze.
“Oh, God! Sorry! Things got busy and I forgot.” Spinning around, I give him a smile and close my eyes as he leans down to brush a kiss across my cheek.
The smell of his skin and the feel of his hand on my arm makes my knees weak and a jolt of heat run through my body. That’s all it takes to distract me from one very ugly fact.
The number that called Payne’s phone was from one of the dangerous locations listed in the FBI file Trabucco showed me.
21
Nora
“Come in.”
Light spills over Palmieri’s expensive desk through the large windows in his office, dust particles glittering in the morning sun. On the back wall, awards and newspaper clippings crowd every spare inch, a veritable wallpaper of how long he’s been on the force. Over in the corner there’s a golf club next to a glass cabinet full of trophies and photos from the department tournaments he’s won over the years.
Who am I to question if he’s trustworthy or not? He’s practically an institution around here. So he’s a jackass. Unfortunately, that isn’t illegal.
“Yeah, what is it?” he grunts without looking up.
Lounging in a large leather chair, with his hands locked behind his head, he’s totally focused on the laptop screen in front of him. When I don’t say anything, he eases forwards and hits a button before turning to me. “Shouldn’t you be watching the alderman?”
“He’s with his personal security this morning. Some family thing.” I take a breath and dive in. “Captain, do you have a minute?”
Palmieri frowns. “What about? Trouble with your assignment?”
“Yes, no… I’m not sure.” Way to win him over with confidence. It’s one thing to decide to talk to someone, and another to actually find the words.
“Well? Which is it, yes or no?” Palmieri quirks one bushy eyebrow in annoyance.
Right. Take two. “There’s a situation with the alderman, and I’m unsure how to handle it.”
He sits up straight, and for the first time—maybe ever—I think I have his full attention. “A situation? Explain.”
There’s an FBI investigation, and mobsters, and someone is trying to kill the alderman. Oh, and by the way, I’m starting to think the guy I’m sleeping with is either a good guy pretending to be a bad guy, or a bad guy who’s just good in bed.
Crap.
I’m supposed to be out there saving cats and walking lost kids home, not this. All of that bubbles up, but I take one look at his face, and I can’t say any of it. His body language is trying so hard to be casual, but his eyes watch my every twitch like a hawk.
“I think the alderman’s expecting me to do more than my job entails. Not only does he order me to fetch his coffee, he calls me in during off-hours.” I feel like the idiot he probably thinks I am as I whine about nothing instead of telling him what’s really bugging me.
Palmieri relaxes a touch, laughing. “Welcome to the real world, Keaton. What do you want me to do? Ground him? He’s a fucking alderman. Fetch his coffee and don’t come back unless you have something real to bitch about.”
“Yes, sir.” I start to turn, but hesitate. “Sir? Do you think he’s really in danger?”
“I think we’re all in danger every time we decide to get out of bed instead of going back to sleep. What kind are you thinking of?”
I lick my lips and tread cautiously. “He did a lot of damage to organized crime over the last couple years. Could someone maybe be targeting him? He’s indicated he’s going to run for mayor, and the papers say he’ll probably win by a landslide, and—”
Palmieri laughs. “Who would target that old blowhard?”
“I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking. I don’t understand why someone would want him dead.” Frustrated and annoyed, I let more slip than I planned, and Palmieri pounces on it.
Leaning forwards over his desk, he’s no longer amused. “And why do you think that?”
“I… I…”
“You don’t know shit, rookie,” he spits out.
He’s right, but I’m so sick of being treated like I’m somehow less competent, just because I’m young, or a woman, or short. Maybe if someone actually told me something, I’d have a clue. “I know he has meetings with sketchy people, and I know I’m not the only one watching him.”
“And you know this, how?”
I can’t tell him about the file the alderman gave me, but I have to say something. “I did a little snooping after getting called in on Saturday, and—”
Palmieri’s face turns an unpleasant shade of purple. “What the fuck is your problem, Nancy Drew?”
“I—”
“This.” He doesn’t wait for my answer. Just as well, since what the hell do I say to that? “This is why I had you doing busy work. You’re just like your father, seeing shit that doesn’t exist. Never able to sit the fuck down and do your job without trying to save the world. I’m going to say this once, and if you’re smart—which I doubt—you’ll hear me the first time.” His voice is deadly calm, but I can’t help feeling like he’s painting a giant target on my back. “I’ll tell you when there’s a problem. Until then, your job is to fetch the man his God damned coffee, and stand there with a smile on your pretty face.”
“What if I get proof something is going on?”
The look he gives me chills me to my soul. “Then by all means, come back here and show it to me. Just don’t be surprised if playing with the big boys is bad for your health. I’d hate to see you hurt over a si
lly misunderstanding. It’s so easy to make mistakes as a young officer.”
My mistake was walking into his office. Trabucco might be skeevy, but I’ll agree with him on this, there’s something going on here and my boss is likely mixed up in it. Until I figure out how to get in touch with the alderman’s FBI contacts, I’m going to have to keep an eye on things as best I can.
I bare my teeth in a harsh imitation of a smile. “You’re right, sir. I’d really hate to make the wrong mistake.”
His eyebrows narrow and his mustache twitches. I don’t think he trusts me any more than I do him. “Trabucco is paranoid, practically delusional. Do you think I’d have picked you for this if there was a real threat?”
“Of course not, sir.” This time, I really smile. He doesn’t know the alderman told me I was requested personally.
I’m not the only one who doesn’t know shit.
“So here’s what you’re going to do,” Palmieri blusters on. “You’re going to go back to work tomorrow, do what he wants, and keep doing it until your assignment’s over. If you keep your head down and play nice, I won’t tell anyone about your little amateur sleuthing.” He stands to his full height and looks down at me. “Capisce?”
I nod and walk out the door, hyper-aware of turning my back on a man I’m pretty sure is—at the very least—doing exactly what he told me to do. Looking the other way instead of doing his job.
The first thing I need to do is figure out how Payne is mixed up in this. I knew from the moment I saw him that something was off. With his military history, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch for him to be undercover as part of the FBI investigation.
Or working for the Mafia.
Either way it makes me question if what we have is real, or if I’m just an easy lay and a convenient point of access to the alderman. I wonder what he’d do if I walked right up to him and asked. If he’s FBI, I’d probably end up transferred to the middle of nowhere so I didn’t mess up the investigation.
