Accomplice: A Dark Mafia Romance (Romano Brothers Book 3)

by Samantha Cade

  “I know you’re not naive. You know what I am. What I’ve done.”

  I graze my lips across his chest thoughtfully. “I have an idea.”

  Vince’s muscles constrict, and he goes silent again. I can feel him closing up, withdrawing from me. I kiss his lips, biting his bottom one, trying to get him to stay with me.

  “Sometimes I can’t look at my own hands, knowing what they’ve done.” His voice is steady and clear, piercing through the dark room.

  I prop myself up on my elbow, focusing my eyes on his.

  “Vince, I have to believe that you were always justified in your actions.”

  “Justified?” He laughs, sarcastically. “To take a life?” He holds his hands up and examines them. “To smash someone’s head against a brick wall until it’s soft and wet in my hands.”

  I cringe inwardly, fending off the image.

  “Yes,” I say with conviction. “If that person was causing harm.”

  Vince shakes his head. “It’s not up to me to decide who lives and dies.”

  I see the turmoil in his eyes. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to be in his position, how confusing. But he needs to wake up! I sit up straight, my bare breasts bobbing in the dim light. I grab his shoulders and make him look at me.

  “Vince!” I yell, smacking him lightly on the cheek. “Some people need to fucking die. Okay? Don’t ignore that voice inside of you, the one that tells you what’s right.”

  He gives me a long a look, like he’s unsure of how to react. Slowly, his face relaxes. He smiles, genuinely, and laughs. He gathers his hands in his hair and pulls.

  “You’re fucking crazy! I knew it,” he says. “You think everyone should go around killing people? Vigilante justice?”

  “No, no. Not everyone. But if you have the power and the resources, if you hear that voice, and actually listen to it, which I think you do, then it’s your duty to protect as many people as possible.”

  He lies back on the pillow, closing his eyes, his mouth frozen in a smirk. He knows I’m right. He just won’t admit it. With exaggeration, he stretches his heavy arms over his head.

  “I don’t usually get philosophical with a woman on the first date.” He turns to me, that gorgeous smile, returned.

  “Date?” I say, coyly.

  “Time for bed.”

  “Oh, sure,” I say. I freeze, stuck being staying and leaving.

  Vince circles his arms around my waist, and pulls me against him. I rest my head on his chest while he plays with my hair.

  “Good night, Harley,” he whispers into the darkness.

  Chapter Nine

  ————————

  Vince

  It’s one thing to get involved with a cop. It’s another for her to make me question the worth of my existence, my role in this world, and intangible concepts like right and wrong. It’s that kind of thinking that I tried to drink away.

  I stay up for hours, turning over Harley’s points in my head. She falls asleep quickly, and so peacefully, that I try very hard not to move and disturb her.

  In the morning, I wake up before she does, and carefully untangle myself from her body. It turns out, she sleeps like a log. Even when I drop my phone on the ground with a loud clatter, she doesn’t wake up. I think about rousing her with my face between her legs, but that can wait. First, I want to impress her with something other than my cock.

  Jesus, she is different. This is different.

  I don’t have a clear plan when I walk into the kitchen. After browsing the refrigerator and pulling out ingredients, one quickly comes together. I slice potatoes, onions, and bacon, and layer them in a heavy pan with beaten eggs.

  Ma taught me how to cook. I’m the only one of my brothers with that skill. Ma favored me a little. It wasn’t because she loved me more, but because Pop was so tough on me, she thought she needed to tip the scales in the other direction. While Pop was teaching me how to rule the streets like a game of chess, Ma was teaching to me bake pies. Sometimes I think this arrangement backfired, making me the tough, brutal, yet sensitive and tortured guy I am today.

  Harley walks out of the bedroom just as I’m flipping the tortilla. She immediately perks up when she sees it.

  “That smells amazing,” she says, sniffing the air. “What kind of omelette is that?”

  “It’s not an omelette. It’s a Spanish tortilla,” I say at the risk of sounding pretentious.

  But Harley’s not put off by it. She smiles to herself, her toes turning in a little. She’s impressed. Mission accomplished. I slide the tortilla onto a plate to cool, then start pressing our coffee.

  Harley’s wearing one of my t-shirts, and that’s it. While I pour her a cup of coffee, I wonder if she’s wearing anything underneath it. I slice the tortillas into triangles, and serve them with a dollop of aioli. Harley smiles at her plate, and then at me, like she’s just discovered a deep secret that I’ve kept from her.

  “A man that can cook,” she says, pursing her lips to the side.

  “I’d imagine it increases my market value.”

  “Exponentially.” Harley takes a bite. Her face melts in orgasmic ecstasy. “So much so that I don’t think I can afford you.”

  I grab her knee under the table, and pry her legs apart. “You bring certain valuable assets to the table yourself.”

  She turns away from me, blushing. I slide my hands back and grab her ass, seeing for myself that she’s wearing nothing underneath. Harley yields, and lets her fork fall on the plate. I clutch the t-shirt in the back, making it taut across her tits. I slide my face down the slope of chest, and watch her nipples stick out hard. Harley lets out a desperate whimper, and opens her legs wider. I peer under the bottom of the shirt to see her sweet, pink flesh. It’s already glistening.

  “Later,” I say, nipping at her collarbone. “You should eat. You’re going to need the energy.”

  Harley eyes me with faux suspicion as she goes back to her tortilla. She polishes off the plate, then turns to me, her hands folded, and bows slightly.

  “That was delicious Vince,” she says, as if she can’t really believe it herself.

  “I’m glad you liked it.” I slide my hand up the inside of her thigh. But Harley’s legs don’t part as easily this time.

  “Vince, before we get distracted,” Harley starts.

  I leave my hands where they are and listen. Harley’s face suddenly goes white, and she blinks nervously.

  “I thought we could discuss the case, of Unit A?” She glances up at the ceiling, words rattling off of her tongue. “I know you want to keep me at a distance, but I just thought… since we got so close. I don’t mean just the sex, I mean… You felt it too, right? I thought you felt it. So, if you did, I was wondering if you could tell me where you are. With Unit A?”

  There’s something so raw about her vulnerability, her openness. I want to crawl inside of it to see what authenticity feels like.

  “I felt it,” I say, answering one of her questions. I know I should elaborate, but I can’t find the words.

  But Harley gets the picture. She exhales, nodding. As much as I hate to pull away from the warm center of her body, I make myself do it.

  I take her hand and lead her to the couch. I pull out several large maps, lists, and charts, and lay them on the table in front of her. The documents track different things, like the local family’s terf, income streams, connections, which sometimes overlap. It’s a complicated system, but it makes sense it my head. Harley squints at it.

  “Am I supposed to understand this?” she says, at a complete loss.

  “I can explain it to you.” I sit next to her. “This is where I am with the case.”

  “You’ve done all this yourself? You don’t have to explain it. Just tell me. What’s the plan?”

  Her eyes are wide with excitement. She’s waiting for me to tell her when we’re going to storm Unit A, kill the bad guys, and free everyone held inside.

  “The plan is to tak
e down the Donovans without anyone dying,” I say.

  Harley knits her brow and looks at me in shock. “You’ve known it’s the Donovans?”

  “I did,” I admit. “I didn’t tell you because like you said, I did want to keep you at a distance. Now, it’s different. Now, I trust you. I don’t give out my trust easily.”

  Harley narrows her eyes. She’s not letting this go without a fight. “You trust me now, after you’ve seen me naked?”

  I playfully cup her breast over the t-shirt. She squirms against my palm.

  “No. Since I decided to start listening to you,” I say.

  Harley scoots a little closer to me, and turns her attention back to the papers draped over the coffee table. “So what’s this plan? How do we destroy a powerful crime family’s profitable business without anyone getting hurt? Oh, I know. Magic!”

  “If you consider careful data gathering and analysis magic, then yes.” I reference the spreadsheet that outlines the Donovans sources of revenue. “My plan is to cripple them financially. They haven’t been major players for long, and as these charts show, their foundation isn’t as solid as the more established families. It wouldn’t take much to knock down the house of cards. The money dries up, and what they make off of Unit A isn’t enough to sustain them. So, they just go away.”

  “Makes sense,” Harley says, her eyes darting over the spreadsheet. “But how long will it take?”

  “That’s the wrong question to ask.”

  “Why?”

  “Because when you start asking that, you get anxious, start rushing things. Make mistakes.”

  Harley draws into herself, shaking her head furtively. There it is again, that defiance. I guess it can’t be fucked away.

  “Who knows how much time those women have?” she says.

  I slide my arm across her shoulder, drawing her close to me. “This is the best way to do it, Harley. We have to be patient, so we can help them. It’s the only way. I trust you. Now, you have to trust me.”

  She nods, acquiescing.

  “I won’t keep you in the dark anymore,” I say, cupping her chin. “But by knowing more, that puts you in more danger. You can’t say anything to anyone, Harley. Nothing.”

  I suddenly imagine losing her, and there’s a sharp jolt in the middle of my chest. I know it’s something I could never come back from.

  “I won’t,” Harley promises.

  The documents can’t hold my attention anymore. I slide my arms around Harley’s waist, and grab big handfuls of her ass. She giggles as I lift her and sit her on my lap. I unzip my pants and sink inside of her.

  It’s funny, I thought I could fuck Harley out of my system. But it turns out, the more I have her, the more I want. It’s a never-ending treadmill I don’t want to get off.

  Harley leans back, her hands on my knees, feeling me inside of her. She closes her eyes, and I study her face.

  What have I gotten myself into? She’s my responsibility now. This is dangerous business, and I can’t let anything happen to her.

  I grab her ass, grinding her back and forth on my lap. I make her come three times before I lose myself. I grip her flesh as I explode. My eyes land on the documents on the table. Is this the right thing to do in regards to my family and the people I love, or am I just trying to impress her? How do you know if this instinctual voice is telling the truth, or just an imposter?

  Harley curls against me, nipping at my neck. Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter. It feels too good to ignore.

  Harley

  ————————

  I spend all weekend at Vince’s place. It’s the greatest contentment I’ve ever experienced. We both hang out half naked, fucking in every room, and on every surface of his fabulous apartment. The only contact we have with the outside world is to order take-out, which we eat on the couch, our bare legs draped over each other.

  I hate to leave the love nest we’ve set up, but I have to go to work, and Vince does too. When I kiss him goodbye, he’s fresh out of the shower. His skin is warm and damp, and smells faintly of soap.

  I run by my place to straighten myself up a little, and grab a few things. Everything is just where I left it. My mail system on the dining room table is in place, and I quickly grab a pre-assembled outfit off the back of the couch. After being at Vince’s place for so long, my apartment feels like a capsule stuck in time, something from another era of my life.

  My life can be divided into BV and AV, I decide. Before Vince, and After Vince.

  ————————

  “You’re smiling,” Walter says, digging to the bottom of the white paper bag that sits in the console. He selects a donut with pink frosting, and takes a bite. “Why?” he asks through the crumbs.

  “I’m just… pleasant.” I take a sip of coffee, trying, unsuccessfully, to flatten out my lips. I end up drinking too much. I quickly spit the scalding liquid into a napkin.

  Walter gives me a close lipped smile, side-eyeing me like he’s just discovered the smoking gun.

  “It’s a guy, isn’t it?” he says.

  “Walter, stop,” I say, blushing. But I desperately want to talk to someone about it. With my sad social life, this sixty plus, five years until he’s a retiree, is the closet thing I have to a friend. I look at him coyly, and quickly nod.

  Walter’s face brightens. He claps his hands softly. “You deserve it, Redding. Any man would be lucky to have a strong woman like you. And you’re damn good looking, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” I say, wiggling my shoulders. “He’s a good man too, Walter. He’s chivalrous and respectful. And so handsome. He’s tall, and his body is solid. I feel like I could just climb up him and…”

  Walter throws up his hand. “That’s… fine. I don’t need to hear any more. I’m glad you found a nice young man. I’m sure your parents are happy, too.”

  “Right, my parents.” I turn to the coffee in my hands. My parents would be happy, thrilled even. But I shouldn’t tell them. I’d have to hide who Vince is, and I couldn’t do that.

  Walter peeks into the paper bag. His face falls when he sees there aren’t anymore donuts. He crinkles the paper into a ball, and tosses it into the backseat.

  “Guess the break is over,” Walter says.

  We’re busy this morning, with barely a break between calls. We don’t see much real action. Most of the calls have us dealing with spousal feuds with no real violence, groups of teenagers loitering on street corners, and one elderly woman who requests we check her attic for rats.

  After lunch, there’s a quiet lull. I cruise through the streets, thinking about Vince, while Walter responds to his emails. After about an hour of this, Walter raises his attention from the screen.

  “You thinking about checking on the unit?” he asks, his voice quiet and cautious.

  My feet clench in my shoes. Vince told me not to talk to anyone about Unit A. I have to play by his rules if I want to help those women, and keep us out of danger.

  “Oh, that,” I say, my voice lilting. “It turns out, it’s nothing.” I take a turn that’s in the opposite direction of Unit A.

  “Nothing?” Walter shakes his head incredulously. “Then what is it?”

  I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, thinking fast. “Just some illegal tenants, that’s all. It’s been sorted out.”

  “There’s no one living there anymore?” Walter asks. I nod. “What was with all the cars? In and out? And dangerous characters like Peter Connell?”

  “It turns out, uh, they were running an unlicensed hair salon. I guess Peter needed a trim.” Oh my God, that sounds so stupid. You’re the worst liar ever.

  “Uh huh.” Walter knits his brow, carefully processing this information. “You’re sure?”

  “Yep. I’m sure.”

  “Uh huh,” Walter says again, holding his gaze on me. “I just hope you haven’t fallen in love and lost your edge, Redding. Don’t forget what’s important.”

&nbs
p; “What are you talking about?” I mumble under my breath.

  Walter’s stare lingers on me for a few more moments. Finally, he shrugs, and goes back to his tablet.

  ————————

  On my way home, just as I’m wondering if I’ll see Vince tonight, I get a text from him. While stopped at a light, I giddily check it.

  Turn right.

  I glance up, confused. The light flips to green. The car behind me beeps impatiently. Without knowing what else to do, I take a right.

  Each time I stop at a light, or stop sign, a text comes through, telling me which way to go. My skin crawls with excitement at the thought of Vince watching me without my knowledge. I slip my blouse down my shoulder a little in case he can see.

  I end up out of the city, driving into the countryside. When the rush hour traffic tapers off, I spot a sleek, black car following several yards behind me. The windows are darkly tinted, but I know it’s him.

  Stop here.

  This country road is wide open and flat, flanked on both sides by thick forests. The only place to stop is a vista point overlooking a cliff. I pull in over the loose gravel. I check my lipstick in the mirror before getting out. The black car pulls up beside me, and Vince gets out. He’s wearing sunglasses. His lush hair is styled neatly. He wears a crisp black t-shirt with a v-neck that plunges below his collarbone, and dark jeans.

  Vince greets me with a sideways smile. Without asking, he walks right up and slings his arms low across my waist, and kisses me passionately. His face is freshly shaven, and he smells amazing. I wonder if he’d think it weird if I asked to borrow some of his cologne to spritz on my pillow. But it wouldn’t be the same. It’s more than a scent that comes from a bottle. There’s also a spicy musk that’s unique to him.

  “This is beautiful,” I say, facing the scenic view. “But are there any restaurants around here? I’m starving.”

  Vince pats my butt before popping his trunk and going to grab something out of it. I love the casual way he touches my body. It is his, after all. He walks back carrying a sturdy wooden picnic basket.