She didn’t reinvent Nico. She didn’t need to. He had shown her how enigmatic people could be. The beauty of him was in his mystery, and she didn’t want to do him the disservice of oversimplifying him to David. To anyone.
She turned around in the front seat to look at her brother as they made the turnoff for Bass Harbor, Maine. He was pale and sickly looking, the bandage on his hand limp and dirty. Guilt wound its way through her stomach. She’d been too busy with the Syndicate’s business — too focused on those responsible for Nico’s death — to properly look after David. He’d been stuck in the brownstone, afraid and alone, and while she’d taken him to therapy, had tried to come home for the occasional meal, she hadn’t spent enough time coaxing him out of his shell. She wondered what kind of damage the shootout at the brownstone had done to him, how far back it would set the healing process.
“You okay?” she asked him as they got out of the car in the parking lot above the harbor.
He nodded, but she could see the fine sheen of sweat on his upper lip, and his eyes were wide and startled.
She took his arm. “It’s all right,” she told him. “We’ll be safe now.”
It was almost noon, but the wind was cold, and she was glad they’d found a mini-mart on the road where she could buy a cheap pair of sweats and tennis shoes. She zipped up the sweatshirt over her blouse and stayed close to David as they made their way down to the waterfront.
Ed, the wizened man who ferried them back and forth to the island, was waiting when they got to the dock. They piled into the boat, and Angel sat next to David, holding his hand as they sped across the water. It had been almost exactly a year since she’d made the trip for the first time with Nico. The bite of the wind and churning of the water was familiar, but everything else was different.
Nico had changed her. Or maybe he’d just shown her who she’d been all along.
She was still angry for what he’d done, but knowing him like she did, she had to believe there was a reason. It’s a conclusion she would have reached in Boston if she’d had the time. Now she reveled in the site of him, standing tall and strong at the front of the boat.
He was a little leaner than he’d been the last time she’d seen him, but it did nothing to diminish the raw power of his physicality. His thighs strained against the fabric of his jeans, his leather jacket doing nothing to hide the significant breadth of his shoulders. His chiseled pecs were visible under the thin fabric of his white T-shirt, and she had a sudden memory; running her tongue from his chest to his throat, his body hard and insistent under her as she rode him, his hands wrapped in the hair at the back of her head, searing her with his gaze while he thrust up into her.
He was alive.
The truth of it almost took her breath away, and she squeezed David’s hand to keep her own from shaking.
The island rose up out of the water like an emerald mirage. Ed slowed down, then coasted the last few feet to the small dock. Angel helped David out of the boat while Nico spoke quietly to Ed. Then Ed was heading back toward open water.
Nico picked up David’s backpack and they headed for the woods surrounding the private residence that was Nico’s refuge.
They arrived at the house twenty minutes later. Nico disabled the alarm, and they stepped into the stone entry, the Atlantic beckoning from the wall of glass in the living room. David seemed rooted to the ground, and Angel realized he hadn't spoken since they left Boston.
“It’s okay,” she said gently, leading him to the stairs. “Go upstairs. Take a shower, get some sleep. We’ll talk later.”
He followed her instructions like a child, his movements slow and deliberate as he made his way up the stairs. She waited until she heard the click of his bedroom door to continue into the living room. David always slept in the room Nico had given Angel the first time he’d brought her here, before she’d accepted the inevitability of her attraction to him.
She was under no such delusion now. She would have it out with Nico. Find out why he’d done what he’d done. Rail at him for putting her through it. Then he would lead her to the master suite, take off her clothes, remind her that she was still his.
That she always had been. That she always would be.
She stood watching him as he loaded the fireplace with wood and old newspaper. He’d taken off his jacket, and the muscle and tendons in his back flexed as he placed everything in the grate. He’d only been grazed by the bullet that hit him at the brownstone, and they had cleaned and wrapped the wound in the bathroom of the mini-mart where they’d stopped for gas. Now she was afraid to take her eyes off him. Afraid he would disappear into thin air. Had he been here during the last four months? Had he stood on the beach under the house only hours after she and David left? Had he missed her as much as she’d missed him?
He lit a match, held it to the newspaper, then stepped back as it spread to the kindling, and finally, the bigger pieces of wood.
She crossed the room, stood next to him and watched the firelight play across his face. “Tell me.”
He hesitated, then turned to look at her. He took her face in his hands, staring at her with something hungry and desperate in the moment before he lowered his lips to hers. She melted against him, forcing her mind to stay clear while he claimed her mouth with a mixture of tenderness and barely controlled desire. She was relieved when he didn’t lead her straight to bed. She needed to hear what he had to say — to know that everything she’d been through had been for a good reason — and she wouldn’t be able to think straight once he really started touching her.
He rubbed his thumb along her swollen lower lip, and she clenched her thighs together to stop the pulse of her body calling for him.
He turned away and headed for the liquor-topped cabinet. “Drink?”
“Please,” she said.
He poured whiskey into two glasses, crossed the room, and handed her one of them. “You might want to sit down.”
7
She wanted to snap at him. To tell him she wasn't the scared girl he’d once known. But she suddenly felt anything but strong, her guard slowly slipping in the presence of his strength.
She sat at one end of the couch and was glad when he took the other end. She didn’t need the distraction. Didn’t want to smell him, to feel the magnetic pull of her body to his.
He downed the drink in one swallow and ran one hand through his dark hair. “I knew Los Angeles wouldn’t be the end of it,” he finally said.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He stared into the fire, now devouring the wood he’d stacked inside the grate. “Dante was just an instrument.”
“We already knew he wasn’t acting alone,” Angel said. At least ten men had defected from the Vitale family — and some from other families as well — in the months before Dante kidnapped David in an effort to take over the Syndicate’s New York territory.
“We knew there were followers, disciples of Dante who wanted to see the business return to its traditions,” Nico clarified. “We didn’t know someone else was orchestrating the movement.”
“Someone above Dante?” Angel asked.
Nico nodded. “After we got David out alive, I needed to be invisible for awhile to figure out what was really going on.”
“And did you?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“Then why come back?” The question sounded more bitter than she intended. Happy wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how she felt now that she knew he was alive. But she’d gotten used to her grief, her bitterness. What was she supposed to do with all of that now?
He sighed. “I spent the last four months tracing the hierarchy above Dante, trying to figure out where the orders were coming from. Then Luca heard through the grapevine that a hit had been taken out on you.”
She sat up straighter, the liquor turning sour in her stomach. “On me?”
He nodded. “And David.”
“By who?”
He turned to look at he
r. “By the same person who wanted me dead back when we rescued David.”
She shook her head, running through a list of names in her mind before skidding to a stop on one of them. “Raneiro?”
“The one and only,” Nico said, his voice laced with ice.
“But…” She shook her head. “Why? I mean, I know he wasn’t convinced I could handle Boston when we kicked out Frank, but I’ve followed every rule to the letter. I’ve handed over the correct percentage of our profits to the Syndicate. I’ve escalated up line when the situation has called for it.”
“Except with your first round of… eliminations,” he said.
“Frank deserved to be kicked to the curb,” she said coldly. “And so did every single person who was kicked there with him.”
“I’m not disputing that,” he said. “I’m not even saying that’s why Ranerio came after you.”
“Then what?”
“Raneiro has no reason to believe you’re any different than me. It was no secret we were involved, and no secret that you were coming at the business with a different perspective than the men who’ve run it for generations. My vision for a new Syndicate hasn’t played out to his liking. He’s done. ”
“So he was going to… what?” she asked. “Kill David and I to make sure the Rossis were done with the Boston territory for good?”
“That’s what it looks like,” Nico said. “He already thought I was out of the picture. Eliminating you would allow him to reinstate the old world model without resistance.”
“You came out of hiding for me,” she murmured.
He turned sharply toward her. “I wasn’t in hiding, Angel.” His voice was steely. “You know me better than that.”
She nodded. Nico Vitale was not a man who hid. From anything.
“I did what I did to protect you while I figured out who was really responsible for the upheaval in the Syndicate. I needed perspective. The kind of perspective that I could only gain by removing myself from the situation, by looking at it from afar. And I needed to know you were safe while I got it.”
She put down her empty glass and walked to the doors overlooking the beach. They’d traveled through the night, entered Maine as the sun rose into the sky. It felt like a lifetime since she’d been sleeping on the sofa in her office. Since she had thought Nico was dead. Too much had happened in too short a time. Her gut was still catching up to her brain.
“How did you do it?” she asked.
“I was wearing kevlar, like all the men,” he said softly. “I didn’t want to be shot, but Luca and I had planned for the possibility as a way for me to get out of the picture with minimal risk. After that it was just a little money in the right hands.”
“And you couldn’t tell me?” she asked softly. “I…” She exhaled a shuddering breath. “I didn’t know how to live without you.”
She closed her eyes as his hands came to rest on her shoulders. “But you did live, Angel. And I had to make sure it stayed that way. If you’d known I was alive…” He took a deep breath. “We wouldn’t have remained apart for long. We would have met in secret. We might even have gotten away with it for awhile. But eventually someone would have found out, and then you would have been a target again because of your connection to me.”
“I was a target anyway,” she said, looking at his reflection in the glass.
And I had to live without you every day.
“I know.” She felt the hard press of his thighs behind her legs, his chest as immoveable as stone against her back. “And I’m going to kill the bastards responsible.”
She should have been scared by the promise in his voice, but that Angel was gone forever. Now she could only feel relieved. He would fight to keep her and David safe, and she would fight with him.
She turned in his arms, lacing her hands behind his neck, pressing her body against him. “Take me to bed, Nico. I don’t want to talk about them anymore.”
8
She didn’t have to ask him twice. He lifted her into his arms and headed for the stairs, relishing the feel of her in his arms, her hair soft against his chin. He’d imagined this moment for the last four months, and he kept his eyes on hers, afraid she would disappear like a dream.
He walked past David’s room and continued to the master suite. He used his foot to close the door behind them, then deposited Angel on the floor next to the bed. She stood there while he opened the curtains and the doors leading to the balcony. He wanted to see her clearly while he took her, wanted to relearn every inch of her body.
When he returned, he saw that she was shaking, and he put a hand on either side of her face, lowered his lips to hers, swept her mouth tenderly with his tongue.
“It’s okay,” he said when he pulled back. “I’m here.”
He held her gaze while he unbuttoned the blouse she’d been wearing since the day before. The red silk slid off her shoulders and onto the floor, and he slipped the fleece pants they’d bought on their way to Maine past the curve of her hips. Rage filled him as he lingered over the scar on her stomach. He wanted to kill the man who did it all over again, and he said a silent prayer of thanks that Angel’s bullet had done the job on her way down. He gently kissed the scar, then drew in a ragged breath at the sight of her.
She stood before him in nothing but a bra and panties, two scraps of scarlet lace standing between him and nirvana. She had been the object of every dream, every desire, during his exile. Now he didn’t know where to start. His cock strained against his jeans, begging for the release that only she could give him. He wanted both to claim her quickly and to savor every moment. Wanted to rip off the panties and plunge into her, and wanted to lick every inch of her body, explore every secret place to make sure it still belonged to him.
As if reading his thoughts, she reached behind her and unhooked the bra, throwing it to the floor. She took his hands, placed them on her breasts, full and heavy, her nipples pale and pink and already hard.
“I’m here, too,” she said, her voice hoarse with desire.
He groaned, burying one hand in the hair at the back of her head while the other snaked around her waist, pulling her tight against him. He tugged at her hair, just enough to give him better access to the pale expanse of her neck. She moaned, and he lowered his lips to the hollow of her throat and kissed his way up her neck as she breathed fast and heavy.
“Nico…”
His name on her lips was the best kind of aphrodisiac. His cock pulsed between his legs, and he heard her gasp as he ran his tongue along the tender spot behind her ear, then kissed his way to her mouth. He was riveted to it. Couldn’t take his eyes off her swollen lips. Couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to kiss her while he drove into her, how it felt when her lips were wrapped around his shaft, taking him all the way to the back of her throat, owning him like he owned her.
He cupped her face with his hands, ran his thumb along the corner of her mouth, drawing out the moment before he would really taste her. And then his mouth was on hers, her lips opening for him, pulling him into her warmth while he stroked her tongue with his. He swept and parried, his mouth falling back into the rhythm of tasting her like no time had passed.
This was his Angel. She belonged to him no matter what.
She slipped a hand between them and undid the button on his jeans, closed her hand around his cock. He groaned, pulsing in her hand while she sank her teeth gently into his lower lip. He couldn’t take it. She was going to make him come before they even got started, and there was no way that’s how this was going down.
He pushed her back on the bed and got rid of her panties with one quick tear. Then he hooked his hand behind her knees, pulled her ass to the edge of the bed, spread her legs until she was on full display for him.
Glistening, wet, swollen.
He kneeled in front of her and kissed his way up her shapely calves, her soft thighs, delaying the moment when he would close his mouth around her pussy. She writhed on the bed, her breath coming in short
bursts.
“You want my mouth on you, baby?” he murmured against her thigh.
She lifted her head to look at him. “I want all of you everywhere, Nico. Everywhere.”
Her words set him on fire, and he brought his mouth to her pussy, dragging his tongue through the moist folds of her sex on his way to her clit. Her hips came up off the bed, and he grabbed tighter to her thighs, keeping her in his grip as he buried his face in her, relishing her sweetness on his tongue. He closed his mouth tight around her clit and sucked until her body bucked under his mouth.
“Oh god, Nico…”
He ran the flat point of his tongue against the engorged nub, fighting the urge to put his fingers inside her, to feel her tighten around them. Driving into her was a kind of occupation. And nothing was going to occupy her but his cock. Not this time.
He moved off her clit, ran his tongue through the crease of her pussy before fucking her with it. His cock didn’t need to be inside her to know she was close to coming. He could feel it in the tightening of her thighs, the way her hips moved with the rhythm of his mouth.
He hooked her knees over his shoulders, opening her wider for him. Then he doubled down on her clit, wrapping his mouth around it, sucking as she lifted her hips to meet his mouth. When he sensed her balancing at the precipice, he lapped harder and faster, waiting for the moment when she toppled over, her cries an echo of the waves crashing onto the rock below the bedroom. He kept stroking the tiny bundle of nerves with his tongue as her body shook, the orgasm going on and on as she shuddered against his mouth.
Finally, she lifted her head, looked at him through desire-clouded eyes. “Fuck me now, Nico. I need you inside me.”
He growled, moving closer to her so he could position the thick crown of his head against her opening, slick with her come. He took hold of her hips and pulled her to him as he drove into her in one swift movement. Then he put one of her legs on his shoulder, using the position to angle deeper, wanting to own every bit of her, to remind them both that she was his.
Lawless: Mob Boss Book Three Page 3
