Nico

by Sarah Castille

  “Need a hand?”

  Startled, she drew back, dropping her wrench, only to freeze when Nico stepped out of the shadows. Damn. She hadn’t seen him at the church service, but it made sense for him to be there. Every boss and capo would have attended Don Falzone’s funeral out of respect.

  “Ah. It’s Mr. Mob Boss.” Her stomach gave a nervous twist. “Are you planning to kidnap me again?”

  A smile ghosted his lips. “Only if you’ve got an assault rifle tucked under your dress. And a little discretion, bella. You never know who is listening.”

  Mia’s cheeks heated. Nico was right. The feds were everywhere, trying to bring down the Las Vegas families after decimating the mob in New York. It was why the top Cosa Nostra bosses had implemented the rule that no associate could be made unless he had put in ten years as a soldier, the theory being that no federal agent was going to give ten years of his life to go undercover and infiltrate the mob. Dante’s bodyguard, Rev, had only just been made after a long ten-year wait.

  “No assault rifle.” She held up her empty hands.

  “Then no.” He handed her the small black handbag she had taken to Vincenzo’s the night of the massacre. “I believe this is yours.”

  “Thank you.” Their fingers touched when she took the bag and she felt the now familiar zing of electricity spark between them. She couldn’t believe that he’d returned her bag. Not only that, he’d apparently sought her out to do so. It wasn’t typical mobster behavior, but then Nico wasn’t like any wiseguy she knew.

  Nico’s gaze flicked to her open hood. “It appears you need some help.”

  “I can fix my car myself.” Part of her wanted to turn around and show him just how competent she was at fixing her engine, but the other part warned her not to turn her back. He was a made guy, a criminal, and a very dangerous person to be around. She had no doubt, if she had been responsible for the massacre, he would not have hesitated to kill her. And yet, she couldn’t forget the night he’d shielded her from Danny’s death, nor could she forget the touch of his hand on her cheek …

  “You weren’t afraid to accept my help at Luigi’s,” he murmured softly. It was a challenge that dared her to respond, but she didn’t like being manipulated.

  “I’m not afraid. I just don’t need it.”

  His eyes gleamed as if she’d fallen into a trap. “Then you won’t mind if I watch.”

  “Why?” Mia bristled. “Do you think women can’t fix cars, just like you think they can’t be hackers?”

  He pressed his lips together and Mia almost laughed. So easy to read. Yes, that’s exactly what he thought.

  “Don’t answer or share your misogynistic views with me, or I’ll be tempted to pull out my knife and do some serious damage.” Her hands found her hips, and she glared, although she felt more amused than angry when he lifted a warning eyebrow. Yeah, she dared to threaten him because for some crazy reason he didn’t scare her. “I do, in fact, know how to fix cars because practically everything that can go wrong with a car has gone wrong with mine—the radiator burst, the voltage regulator busted, the carburetor spews gas, the ignition wire broke, and I’ve had more flat tires than I can count. I had to take an automotive-repair course just to keep up.”

  He laughed, the sound darkly sensual. “Of course you did. You’ve already proven yourself to be a very resourceful woman. But sometimes it doesn’t hurt to accept help when it’s offered.”

  “From the man who kidnapped me and tied me to a chair? No thanks. I think I’ll pass.” Even if he hadn’t kidnapped her the other night, she wouldn’t have accepted his help. She was used to going it alone. From enduring her father’s beatings to surviving her dysfunctional family, and from working her way through university to setting up her own business, Mia had always been a one-woman show. Jules was the only person she had ever let close, and even she didn’t know everything about Mia’s past.

  When Nico didn’t move, she waved her hand in the direction of the road. “You can go.”

  He chuckled and bent to pick up the wrench. Every movement he made was smooth, calculated, tightly controlled. She had a sudden desire to shake that control, strip off the thin veneer of civility and see what lay beneath.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s been a long time since anyone dared dismiss me quite that way.” He held out the wrench and she took it from his hand, careful this time to avoid any contact.

  “So you can accept help,” he said, amused.

  “I accepted a wrench.”

  “A poor-quality wrench. It only has twenty-four teeth in the ratchet handle. You’re going to have trouble if you try to fit it in any tight places. You’ll have to move it fifteen degrees to reach its limit, but a handle with sixty teeth has to be moved only six degrees to turn a nut as far.”

  She blushed. With money tight, she’d bought the best socket set she could afford and resigned herself to put in the extra work over splashing out for higher-quality tools. “So you know your tools. Am I supposed to be impressed?”

  This time he laughed out loud, his smile transforming his face.

  “I can only hope. Nothing has worked so far. I also have some familiarity with fixing up old cars. Among other things.” His finger skimmed over the hotness on her cheek, as if he didn’t believe her embarrassment was real.

  “Fixing to steal them? Like you stole me?”

  “You wound me, bella.” His face softened. “I give you my word I mean you no harm.”

  “The word of a mob boss,” she said bitterly.

  “My word as a man.” He placed his hand over his heart, his fingers resting on his double-breasted suit jacket, a smile playing over his beautiful lips.

  She looked at him, considering. He didn’t appear threatening. There were a few other people on the street, so they weren’t alone. It was daylight. He was somewhat amusing, pleasing to look at, and he appeared sincere. Also, she was desperate. Time was running out. She had never missed a class, and she didn’t intend to miss this one. “If you don’t mind getting your fancy suit messed up, Mr. Mob Boss, you could give me hand checking it out.”

  “Pleasure.” He carefully removed his jacket and tie, folding them neatly on the seat of her car. Her mouth watered as he removed his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves. He was sexy in a suit, but with his broad chest and powerful shoulders straining beneath his fine cotton shirt, sleeves rolled up to bare his corded and inked forearms, dark and dusted with hair, he was something else entirely—dark and primal, fiercely masculine, and oh, so tempting.

  “Bella?” His soft voice pulled her out of a fantasy of those strong arms holding her down, pinning her to the bed, his powerful body hammering into her, deep voice rumbling with a growl.

  She dipped her head; let her hair swing down to hide her face. “Sorry. I was … distracted.”

  “I know the feeling.” His eyes darkened almost to black, and he joined her beside the car. “What have you tried so far?”

  She liked that he didn’t just push her aside and take over like most guys would, and that he accepted she knew what she was doing. So far, he was behaving like a gentleman, but he had a steep hill to climb to regain her trust after what he’d done on Thursday night. “I have a good spark, clean air filter, and solid compression.”

  “Fuel pump?” he offered.

  “It’s got a carburetor, so I figure that’s the cause of the fuel-delivery problem. Maybe a sunken float, rust in the jets, or it might just be gummed up.”

  They worked together for a short time, sharing ideas. He hadn’t lied about his knowledge about cars, but Mia knew all her Mustang’s quirks and eccentricities. With his jacket and tie off, and his sleeves rolled up, away from the places where appearances mattered, he was different. His lethal edges were tempered with a slightly sardonic humor that matched her own. Although he was no less the dangerous, seductive, powerful mobster, he had a softer edge, and his comments and suggestions were considered, respectful of her experience. When she c
hecked her watch and realized time had run out and she needed to call a cab, she was almost disappointed to leave.

  “I’ll have to come back,” she said, finally. “I’m teaching a class at a local community center, and if I don’t get a cab now, I’ll be late.”

  Nico straightened. “I parked at the end of the block. I’ll give you a ride.”

  “Are you kidding?” She snorted a laugh. “You and me in a car together? First of all, our families are enemies. Second, you are a known kidnapper. Third, I can’t show up at the community center with a wiseguy.”

  He looked affronted. “How would they know?”

  “How could you be anything other than a wiseguy?” She gestured vaguely, trying to encompass the entirety of his fine Italian wool suit with its mobster sheen. “You’re kicking it old school in that suit. Modern mobsters dress down so they don’t attract attention.”

  “I have no fear of attracting attention.”

  Mia smiled despite herself. “I’m just saying, you’re not really a suit kinda guy. I’ll bet when you’re alone, you kick back in jeans, Tshirts, leather jackets, and boots.”

  His gaze dropped to her feet. “Boots like the one you left behind?”

  “Actually, I’d like that boot back.”

  Nico’s eyes flashed, and he licked his lips. “It’s very valuable to me. A souvenir of the first person ever to escape from my clubhouse. It comes with a price.” He closed the distance between them, and Mia’s heart drummed in her chest. He was so close she could feel the heat of his body. There was nothing terrifying or lethal about him as his hand slid around her waist. He was all hard, hot, deliciously sexy man.

  “What price?” she whispered, looking up at his lush, sensual mouth, his lips only inches away from hers. She imagined all the wicked things that mouth could do to her, and her blood ran hot through her veins

  He stroked a thick finger along the line of her jaw, his eyes locked on hers, dark with passion, his lids heavy with desire.

  “Tell me.” She felt drawn to him, as if there was a magnetic current pulling them together. She moved closer. Their bodies touched, and she felt the unmistakable ridge of his erection press against her stomach. If he kissed her now, would she slap him or kiss him back? She really didn’t know.

  “I’ll take you where you need to go.” He stepped away, breaking the spell.

  She released a ragged breath, her body pulsing with unfulfilled desire. “You want me to accept a ride to get my boot back? That’s the price?”

  “Yes.”

  Still, she hesitated. It was no small thing he offered. If they were seen together, the repercussions could be severe, not just for them but for their families, too. And yet, how much worse could it be? Their families had already been at war for ten years. And if she texted Jules the details of his car, texted again when they arrived …

  “Do you know what you’re asking? Even this”—she waved at her broken-down car—“was crazy. Us talking on the street is crazy.”

  “Some risks are worth taking.” He leaned in, brushed his lips over her cheek, his breath warm against her ear. “Say yes,” he whispered.

  Mia had never been averse to risk. Every time she confronted or defied her father, she took a risk that she might not make it out of his office on her own two feet. She had taken a risk the day she tried to save Danny, when she sent her application form to UCLA, and again when she’d dared move away from home. She’d taken a risk to start her own business with only bank loans and savings from her internship as capital. She’d taken a risk when she’d accepted the help of a mobster.

  Suddenly, she didn’t care about the consequences. She didn’t have to be a victim. She didn’t have to run scared. She could choose this. Choose him. She could follow her gut instead of the rules, and her gut said go.

  “Yes.”

  *

  Nico pulled his Cadillac Escalade away from the curb. He was out of his fucking mind. He had come perilously close to kissing Mia on the street, and only his fierce self-control had enabled him to pull back before he threw them headlong into disaster. So what the hell was he doing now with Mia Cordano in his car?

  Frankie clearly wondered that, too, from the way he had scowled when Nico told him he’d meet him at the Sunny Heights community center. Frankie’s job was to protect Nico. He couldn’t do his job when Nico wasn’t with him. Nico understood that, but there was no way he wanted Frankie glowering in the back seat with Mia in the car. He wanted her all to himself.

  “Black Escalade.” Mia ran her hand over the dashboard. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Because you suffer under the illusion that all wiseguys are the same.”

  Her lips quivered in a smile. “How many guys in your crew drive either a Cadillac or a Chrysler 300C?”

  Fuck. She was killing him. That sass. That smile. Her strength and determination. She wasn’t intimidated by him. Showed no fear. He’d never met a woman quite like her. And the way she handled her tools, tested her engine. Sexy. As. Fuck. “We’re talking about me.”

  “And your big ass, alpha Escalade,” she teased. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to show off?”

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “My mother died in a car crash when I was seven.” He regretted the words almost as soon as they left his lips, not just because he’d dampened the heat between them, but also because he rarely shared personal information, and especially about his mother.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. He liked that about her, too, the sudden flashes of softness behind the tough exterior. Hell, there wasn’t much about her he didn’t like.

  “It was a long time ago.” True, but he still had vivid memories of his mother, her energy, her laughter, her singing, and the sadness in her eyes every Saturday morning when his father had to leave them to return to his regular life. They had one day a week with him. Never more.

  “Our world really isn’t that big, but I know nothing about you, except by reputation, and even then I didn’t connect the you from Luigi’s with the ruthless violent mob boss who rules the street of Vegas with an iron fist. I think it’s because I tried to forget everything about that night. I didn’t even know who you were. I barely even saw your face.” She toyed with her purse. “If it’s all true, the things they say about you, I should run screaming in the other direction.”

  “You don’t strike me as the running type.” He switched lanes, glancing in the rear-view mirror at Frankie following close behind them.

  “I’m not.”

  She had more courage than many of the men on his crew, an inner strength that intrigued him. And yet she was sweetly feminine, challenging his primal nature to protect and possess.

  “I’m surprised we never bumped into each other,” she continued. “Or maybe we did and I just didn’t recognize you.”

  “I spent some time at Berkeley studying business.” He swerved to avoid a pedestrian and Mia threw an arm over the center console for balance. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he threaded his fingers through hers and rested the pad of his thumb on her wrist so he could feel the throb of her pulse. He couldn’t explain the connection he had with her, but every touch sent a jolt to his groin, unleashing a hunger he could barely contain.

  “An educated wiseguy.” Her hand relaxed beneath his. “You are different. I went to UCLA to study computer science. My father wasn’t happy about it.”

  “I’m surprised he let you go.” If he ever had a daughter, he’d never let her out of his sight. He knew exactly what men were like, and given the direction of his thoughts right now, if he found out his daughter was out with a boy, he’d be in his car with his weapon all ready to give someone a serious headache.

  “He tried to stop me.” Her hand curled beneath his palm, and her pulse kicked up a notch. “He broke my arm. This one.” She lifted her left arm slightly and he tightened his grip, reluctant to let her go.

  “He’ll pay for all his crimes, including what he did to you.” They were no
t idle words. Nico did not toss out threats the way many mobsters did, hoping to gain compliance through words alone. He followed up each threat as if it were a promise so that it might serve as a warning to all who might defy him.

  A curious expression crossed her face, part longing and part guilt. “You mean that, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  Traffic slowed to a crawl as they hit the I-15. Mia glanced at the clock in the console, and Nico gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll make it on time. I know a short-cut.”

  “Does it involve some monster truck driving over the tops of all these vehicles? Because if so, I am fully on board.”

  He shot her a sideways glance. “You like monster trucks?”

  She shrugged. “It’s a guilty fascination thing. Who wouldn’t want to get into their vehicle and smash all the obstacles out of the way, knowing there was very little risk of getting hurt? Unfortunately, I’ve never had the opportunity to give it a try. I smash virtual obstacles instead.”

  And no doubt she did it with the same focus and determination with which she approached every task. “Is that what you’re teaching this afternoon?”

  Her face brightened. “I run a weekly coding class for girls age nine to thirteen, and then one right after it for teenagers. I want to teach girls to become passionate builders—not just consumers—of technology. It’s becoming a basic skill, but girls aren’t getting involved. They need female role models, and unfortunately there aren’t many around.” She told him about the class as they inched along the fifteen. She was passionate about encouraging girls to get involved with computers and shifting the balance of a world that was dominated by men.

  He was drawn to her energy, her enthusiasm, her passion for helping girls succeed, and her desire to change the world, one line of code at a time. Nico had never felt that kind of passion, except in his desire to avenge his father. He wouldn’t trade the Mafia life for anything, but he was damn sure his eyes didn’t light up when he talked about busting out Lennie Minudo so he could take over the Il Tavolino restaurant or greasing a few palms with the unions to ensure the companies he controlled won the bids for the construction of new casinos. He was the darkness to her light, dismantling the world, one racket at a time.