Nico

by Sarah Castille

  After dropping her off, he sat in his vehicle waiting for Frankie. How was she going to get home? Although there were a few families around the community center, it wasn’t the kind of place a woman should be walking around alone. He’d already seen a few members of a small-time street gang, a drug dealer he had run out of his territory a few years back, and an assortment of underworld characters that would only stand out to someone who ran in the same circles. And what about her car? His lips tugged in a smile when he recalled her vintage Mustang. If he didn’t have to make a show of status, he would be riding in a vintage vehicle, too. Not a Mustang, but something luxurious and comfortable with a dollop of exclusivity and style—maybe Dean Martin’s Facel Vega HK500 with the V8 engine, or the Dual-Ghia that Dean Martin loved. Or, if he wanted something closer to home, Sinatra’s T-Bird.

  He made a quick call to a mechanic who owed him a favor. Told him he had two hours to pick up Mia’s vehicle and get it fixed and over to the community center, making it clear failure wasn’t an option. A few years ago, the guy had come to him asking for help because another garage had opened down the road and he’d lost all his business. Nico had sent a couple of wiseguys down to pay the new garage owner a visit, explained to him there wasn’t room for another garage in the neighborhood. Maybe he’d like to relocate. The guy showed a bit of attitude, told Nico’s boys to piss off. His garage burned down the next day. Electrical malfunction. The mechanic understood he’d sold his soul to the devil, and Nico had just called to collect.

  He spotted Frankie walking up to the vehicle and lowered the window.

  “With all due respect…”

  “Don’t.” Nico held up his hand. “You’re about to say something disrespectful, and right now I’m not in a mood to bounce you down the street. I am well aware of the risks.”

  He looked up; saw Mia through the window with a cluster of little girls around her. Every time she turned around, another one was clinging to her clothes. He wouldn’t have pegged her as a nurturing type, but they obviously adored her. But then, what was not to like?

  When Frankie made it clear he wasn’t going to leave, Nico left his vehicle and they grabbed a couple of espressos from a small café around the corner. Just as he was about to call the mechanic and remind him about the meaning of keeping his word, he saw a flash of red and the familiar lines of Mia’s car coming down the street. He and Frankie reached the curb just as the vehicle pulled up beside them.

  “Car is a piece of shit.” The mechanic handed Nico a set of keys. “I can’t believe it’s still working. I did my best with it, fixed the engine problem and tried to make it as safe as I could, but to be honest, it’s not going to last.”

  Nico tucked the keys into his pocket. “Grazie.”

  “No problem.” The mechanic hesitated, and Nico knew he wanted to ask if they were even. But when the mob did you the favor of putting a competitor out of business, the debt would never be repaid. “Guess I’d better go. One of my guys is coming to pick me up.”

  “Did someone spill the Holy Water on your fucking head in church?” Frankie shook his head as the mechanic walked away. “You a good Samaritan now? Nonna Maria’s gonna have a heart attack.”

  “For a guy who doesn’t talk much, you can’t seem to shut the fuck up today.” Nico left Frankie’s side when he saw Mia emerge from the building. “Gimme a minute.”

  “What are you still doing here?” Mia’s brow creased in a frown when he stopped in front of her.

  Nico gestured to her car. “A friend owed me a favor. He fixed the engine. Tuned up a few other things.”

  He waited impatiently for her reaction, tried to discern what she was thinking from the puzzled expression on her face. Usually he didn’t care what people thought about his actions, but he cared about this. For some reason he didn’t understand, he wanted to please her.

  “Why?”

  “You needed your car,” he said simply.

  Far from reassuring her, his words seemed to cause her concern. “But you hardly know me, Nico.” Her voice rose in pitch. “And I can’t pay for it.”

  “It was a small thing, bella. A favor between friends.” His heart thudded in the silence, a pounding only he could hear.

  “Are we friends?” She tilted her head to the side, studied him.

  “We aren’t enemies.”

  She smiled, giving him a glimpse past the tough exterior to a gentle, sweet softness that made his chest ache with longing.

  “Graze tante.” Her Italian was soft, smooth, and utterly sensual, conjuring up visions of hot sweaty, summer nights, naked bodies tangled in sheets, and erotic moans of pleasure.

  “Prego.” Pride suffused his veins, followed by an almost primitive satisfaction that he had pleased her. And although she didn’t know it, he had protected her. She would be safe now in her vintage vehicle. “How was the class?”

  “Good.” She held up a small disc that resembled a circuit board. “They made me a present.”

  Nico didn’t know what the hell it was, but it made her happy so he smiled. “Very nice.”

  It was a banal conversation. Normal. And yet they were not normal people living in a normal world. Even as they talked, he was watching for danger—suspicious cars, men loitering on the street, undercover agents, snipers on the roof, wiseguys out for a stroll …

  She tucked the present away in her purse, fidgeted with the zipper. “I guess I’d better get going. It’s my day off and I have stuff to do.”

  He didn’t want her to leave, but he couldn’t think of a reason to ask her to stay, and he didn’t want to endanger her any further.

  She unlocked her car, hesitated. “How did you start it without a key?”

  He put his hand in his pocket, fingered the spare key the mechanic had made for him. “I have a lot of friends. They have many skills and owe me many favors.”

  “I guess I owe you one now.”

  His blood heated, rushed to his groin, her soft, sensual tone as potent as if she had grasped his cock. When she closed the distance between them, it was all he could do to keep his hands by his sides. He hadn’t arranged for her car to be fixed so she would owe him, but if she wanted to repay the debt, he wasn’t going to complain.

  “How’s this?” She placed her hands on his chest, leaned up, and kissed his cheek.

  His self-control shattered.

  Her kiss was so utterly unexpected, so breathtakingly sweet; his body reacted before his mind could process the danger. In a moment of madness where he gave in to the wildness he kept so closely in check, he yanked her against him and crushed his mouth against hers in a kiss as fierce as the desire coursing through his veins.

  “Oh God.” She moaned, wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Nico pressed her soft body against him and pushed his tongue between her lips, sweeping her mouth with ravenous intent as he drank of her sweetness like a man dying of thirst. He had never felt so alive. So utterly consumed by desire he would risk everything for a kiss.

  Their tongues danced together; their hearts pounded in unison. He twisted his hand in her hair and trailed kisses down the graceful column of her neck. He was a physical man, experiencing life through his body more than his mind, and right now he was overwhelmed with the need to bite her, taste her, breathe in her scent, see and touch every inch of her beautiful body, mark her, and stake his claim.

  “Boss.”

  Frankie’s voice pulled him out of his lust-fueled haze, and he growled his displeasure, pulled Mia against him, driven by a primitive desire to protect the woman in his arms. Mine.

  “You’re exposed. We’re in Cordano territory. You wanna take it inside?”

  Mia shuddered in his arms. “I’d better go.”

  Before he could protest, she pulled away, leaving him standing on the sidewalk, so fucking hard he ached. She slid into her vehicle and closed the door. The roar of her engine shattered the silence on the street.

  “Mia.”

  She lowered the window
and blew him a kiss.

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  EIGHT

  “You gotta get me out, Jack.”

  Ben looked around the twenty-four-hour diner, but at 2 A.M. in a roadside diner outside Mesquite, an hour away from Las Vegas, they were very much alone. The waitress had just refilled their coffee cups and was now chatting with the cook by the kitchen door.

  He’d been meeting with his handler at the same diner every Sunday night for the last three years, drinking the same coffee poured by the same waitress and leaving the same tip. But tonight was supposed to be different. Tonight was supposed to be his last night. He’d called Jack during the week to let him know he was done.

  “We’re begging you.” Jack made a show of wringing his hands. Although he wore a ball cap to cover his bald head, and a leather jacket over a polo shirt, he looked like a cop. Ben didn’t know if it was the thick neck, the big shoulders, or just the set of his jaw, but something about Jack screamed law enforcement, which was why they had to take their meetings out of town.

  “Just a little longer. There’s something in the works. Something big. So big the higher-ups won’t even tell me anything except that if you leave now, all your work, undercover, will be for nothing.”

  “Fuck.” Ben balled up the resignation letter he had printed off just before he left home. “Everything’s gone to shit, Jack. Three bosses were hit in one night. It’s a dangerous time. We’ve got capos and underbosses fighting to be boss. We’ve got soldiers wanting to be capos and associates wanting to be soldiers. The Falzone and Toscani families have destabilized and we’re not just looking at civil wars within those families, but wars between the three top Vegas crime families as they grab for power. All our work collecting evidence on the top bosses and the guys who worked with them is useless now. We can’t put dead men in jail.”

  Jack shrugged. “I don’t see how that changes things for you. If you just keep your head down and continue to do what you do, you shouldn’t be in any additional danger.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Ben slammed his cup on the table, gritting his teeth against the urge to shout. “Every family is gonna open their books, Jack. They’re gonna want to make up as many associates as they can to increase their numbers. I’ve been there ten years—three of those with Nico’s crew. If they come to me and tell me it’s time to get made, I can’t refuse. No one refuses. They’ll give me a contract to whack someone, and then what am I gonna do? It’s been hard enough doing my job without breaking the law. No way am I going to execute someone, even if he is a bad guy. But if I don’t go through with it, they’ll kill me, and I got a little girl who needs her dad more than ever since Ginger’s taken up with her new man, Gabe.”

  He had given ten years of his life to bringing down the mob. Ten years, three relationships, and the first six years of his daughter’s life. And until the triple hit on the three bosses, it had been worth it. But now two of those bosses were dead, and most of the evidence about the murders, assaults, arson, extortion, kidnappings, and racketeering he’d collected over the years was worthless. Locking up the bosses would have made the Las Vegas Cosa Nostra crumble from within as everyone turned rat to flee the sinking ships. Nothing could decimate an organization faster than a loss of trust.

  “The higher-ups need intel on the new administration that’s gonna take over,” Jack said. “They also want to know who had the balls to pull the trigger. So far we’ve got nothing. The murder weapon was found a couple blocks away. No prints. No registration number. Forensics got nothing in the alley where it was dumped. We’ve got no witnesses to the crime.”

  “You think they’re gonna tell me? I’m not a made man.” Ben sipped his now cold coffee, wincing at the bitter taste.

  “We have faith in you, Ben. You’ve gone deeper than anyone in the department ever has.” Jack hesitated, the coffee cup near his lips. “Maybe too deep.”

  “Fuck that.”

  “You got a written report for me?” Jack lifted an eyebrow, and Ben shrugged.

  “No time.” He’d given up filing reports a long time ago, unable to commit the betrayal of his crew to writing. Now he just gave Jack brief selective verbal updates that would satisfy his obligations but keep his capo and crew out of the line of fire.

  Jack sucked in his lips and let out a long breath. “I’m getting pressure from above. They need to know what’s going on.”

  “I’ll get something to you next week.” Fuck. He was so done with this. Living a lie, answering to a different name, struggling to stay on the straight and narrow when he’d spent ten years living in the gray.

  “I’ll make sure everyone understands you want out. And they’re not asking for years, here. Just a couple of months, and then you’ll be free.”

  Ben leaned back in his seat and sighed. Of course he wouldn’t just walk away. He’d been a policeman since he turned eighteen, fulfilling a dream he’d had for as long as he could remember. His dad had been cop before he’d been killed in the line of duty—a single parent after Ben’s mom died giving birth. With no relatives to look after him, Ben had wound up in foster care, but law enforcement had been his dream—a way of keeping the memory of his father alive. Sticking with the job was the right thing to do. The honorable thing. And if it meant he could also protect his boss, and his closest friends in his crew, well, that would be okay, too. “Okay. But if I hear anything about getting made, I’m walking away.”

  “Good man.”

  “I got a personal favor to ask, though.” He wrapped his hands around the cup to warm them, although his coffee had long gone cold. “This is just between you and me. If it’s not something you can do personally, then tell me, and I’ll find another way.”

  Instantly serious, Jack nodded. “Anything. All these years you never asked for a favor and you got plenty owed to you.”

  “I told you before, Ginger’s taken up with a new guy, Gabe. I got a bad feeling about this dude. Gut instinct has kept me alive all these years. Don’t like how he treats Ginger. Don’t like how he looks at my little girl. Can you check into him? See if he has any priors? Any connections? I’ve been a shit dad, but if he’s a danger to my little girl, I want to get her out.”

  “Leave it with me,” Jack said. “I’ll see if we can send Social Services around.”

  “You guys need a refill?” The waitress stopped at their cracked Formica table, holding her coffee pot above the booth. Shy and pretty, with long blond hair she wore in a ponytail, and wide blue eyes, she rarely engaged them in conversation although she’d been serving them for years.

  “That would be great, sweetheart. Thanks.” Ben pushed his cup along the table, and she filled it up.

  “Everything okay here?” Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. Damn she was cute.

  “We’re good. Just need the bill.” Ben gave her a smile. If things hadn’t been so crazy, he would have chatted with her a little more, tried to find out how come a pretty girl like her was working the graveyard shift for three long years, but he didn’t even have enough time for Daisy much less for pursuing a woman he couldn’t have. And look how it turned out last time.

  “One day, I’m gonna have a woman like her,” Ben said after she left the bill on the table. “Pretty. Soft and sweet. I’ll have a normal life, nice house. Daisy and a couple more kids.”

  Jack snorted a laugh. “You’d be bored. You’re an adrenaline junkie, Ben. This job is your fix. There’s only a certain kind of man who could do what you’ve done for ten years, and he’s not the man with a sweet wife, a nine to five job, and a white picket fence.”

  “So what? I’m gonna be undercover for life?”

  “I dunno.” Jack threw a few dollars on the table to cover the bill. “Maybe you get out and you want back in. Or maybe you’re already in so deep, you’re already gone.”

  NINE

  “So how was the funeral?” Jules looked over her shoulder when Mia walked into the office on Tuesday morning. Jules had taken Monday of
f to take a course at UCLA as she slowly worked toward getting her computer-science degree.

  “Good.”

  “Good? As in it was a big party? People had a great time singing and dancing and boozing it up in church? Aunt May got it on with the priest? Little Johnny drank the Holy Water? Someone pissed on the altar? Or are you just not listening to me?”

  Mia dragged her gaze to her irritated friend and laughed. Jules always poured the sarcasm on thick when she was annoyed. “I’m listening now.”

  “Funeral?” Jules lifted an eyebrow in censure.

  “Same as all funerals.” Mia sighed. “Depressing. Although, I was shocked to see mobsters from rival families in church and no bloodshed. I wasn’t sure if the restraint was out of respect for the church, the family of the deceased, or because everything is so unsettled. Although…” Her lips quivered with a smile, and Jules patted the chair beside her.

  “Ah. Something interesting. Sit down and give me the goods, and while you’re talking you can help me with this. I can’t figure it out.”

  Mia pulled up a chair beside Jules and stared at the code on Jules’ screen, trying to make sense of the only thing that usually made sense in her life.

  “I’m guessing you’re distracted for a reason other than that rush job you did over the weekend.” Jules pulled up another screen to show Mia her various attempts to hack into the client’s system. “My weekend was okay. I’d give it a C-plus rating.” She tapped the keyboard and brought up another screen of code. “I went to a fancy country club with the cousin of a friend of mine. Met a British tennis pro. He invited me to his room for a drink. When we got there, he was painstakingly polite to the point I had to strip down and lay on the bed to get the message across.”

  “That’s great.” Distracted, Mia stared at the screen, wondering what she would have done if Nico had invited her out for a drink instead of kissing her on the street. Or had she kissed him? She’d definitely initiated that sordid little encounter. Or had he? After all, he was the one who decided to get her car fixed. But she’d accepted the ride …