Like Dante Santoro, who simply liked violence for the sake of it.
He looked down at Angel as they walked through the airport. She was as beautiful as ever in a sundress with slim straps, her hair falling in waves around her shoulders. He would kill without hesitation to protect her, and yet here she was, drawn back into the web of danger because of him.
“Should we catch a cab?” she asked when they stepped out into the sticky, heavy heat of Miami.
He took her elbow. “No cab.”
“But—”
“I’ve got it under control.” He guided her to short term parking and scanned the lot until he found what he was looking for. Then he led her toward the sleek, red machine crouched in the shadows.
She narrowed her eyes. “What is this?”
“This is a car,” Nico said. He reached under the wheel well and withdrew a set of keys. A high pitched beep echoed through the garage, and the doors opened out and up, flanking the car like wings. “An F150 LaFerrari , to be exact. Now get in.”
12
The car was more animal than machine, its undulating curves sensual even rendered in steel and fiberglass. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Nico was all man—not exactly the type to drive a low-key sedan—and this car wasn’t about subtlety.
“Shouldn’t we be laying low?” she asked.
“We are laying low,” he said. “I had someone change the plates.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Someone? I thought the point of meeting Luca here was to stay under the radar.”
“Trust me. I’ve covered our bases. And when in Rome…” He took her elbow and guided her to the car.
“We’re not in Rome,” she said drily.
“No, we’re in Miami. Let’s go.”
She slid into the seat with a sigh, sinking into the plush leather interior. He reached across her and buckled her seatbelt, just like he had the night they’d fled New York for Maine. His touch was no less electric now, and she breathed in the scent of him as his fingers brushed her skin, imagining the way he laid his big hands across her naked belly just before he spread her legs to enter her.
He clicked the buckle into place and retreated from the car. A moment later her door slid shut with a quiet hum. He got behind the wheel, and the powerful engine came to life somewhere between a roar and purr.
Like Nico.
He put his hands on the wheel slowly, like he was savoring the feel of it under his hands. He shifted into gear, and then they were flying through the parking garage, Nico taking the turns sharp and smooth until they exited into the Florida sunshine.
They got on the highway and headed south. It was like being in a different world, the bright colors and fast cars standing in sharp contrast to the wild Maine coast, the historical solemnity of Boston. Nico rolled down the windows and looked over at her with a grin. then accelerated through traffic. The wind whipped back her hair, and she was surprised to hear laughter bubble up from her throat.
She wasn’t a car person, couldn’t have cared less what she drove at home, but the speed and agility of the machine connected with something deeply erotic inside her. She looked over at Nico—his muscled thighs moving as he shifted gears, dark hair ruffled by the wind, eyes hidden behind sunglasses—and grew wet with desire for him. She felt her old life falling away with a startling lack of fear.
A half hour later, Nico pulled into the Coral Gables address Angel had given him. The house was one of many owned by her father—now owned by her and David —and occupied only sporadically. It wasn’t one of her favorites—she’d always thought it was a little garish—but now she appreciated the gated entry, the long driveway that led to a brick courtyard at the front of the house. The house wasn’t a fortress—as far as she knew it had been built for privacy, not impenetrability—but at least they would have a warning before someone made it through the gate and up the driveway. She didn’t expect anyone to know she and Nico were hiding out here, but they couldn’t afford to take anything for granted.
Nico pulled the car to a stop in the courtyard. He leaned forward, his arms on the wheel, and gazed up at the Spanish-style mansion. It didn’t look huge from the front, but Angel knew it was an illusion. The house was enormous, with eight bedrooms, a wine cellar, and a gym, among other things. The exterior was faced with ivory stucco, the windows framed with blue shutters, and palm trees provided shade to the interior without totally blocking the sunlight.
“Nice,” he said approvingly.
“Thanks,” Angel said. She heard the note of sarcasm in her voice and felt like she should explain. “I still don’t know how I feel about all of this stuff.”
He turned to look at her. “What stuff?”
“All the stuff bought with my father’s blood money.”
“How do you know the house wasn’t built with legitimate income from Rossi Development?”
She thought about it. Everything was all tangled up together. The good and bad, the moral and immoral, the love and hate.
“I guess I don’t.”
“Maybe that’s a blessing,” he said, taking her hand.
“Maybe.”
They went inside, and Angel opened the windows and the doors leading to the balconies and terraces. The house was just like she remembered it, with soaring ceilings, expansive rooms, and an elaborate iron banister that wound with the curved staircase to the second floor.
When she was done airing out the house, she returned to the ground floor to find Nico standing on the terrace, looking out over the infinity pool and lagoon, and beyond that, to the open ocean in the distance.
“Will this work?” she asked him.
“It will,” he said. “Thank you.”
She reached up to smooth the crease in his forehead. “What’s wrong?”
“I wish you’d go back to New York.”
She dropped her arm, stung by his words. “You don’t want me here?”
“That’s not it.” He pulled her into his arms. “Sometimes I think I can breathe without you.”
“Then why?” she asked.
He looked down at her. “I won’t be able to live with myself if something happens to you. You know that, right?”
She stretched to kiss him. “Which is why nothing is going to happen to me. We’re going to meet Luca, get a handle on what’s going on, and decide what to do next. No one even knows we’re here, and it’s not like anyone would suspect I’m hanging out with my former kidnapper.”
A brief flash of misery crossed his features. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” his voice was gruff.
“Don’t torture yourself over the past,” she said. “Trust me, it doesn’t change anything. And I don’t think I’d want to change it anyway.”
He shook his head. “You can’t mean that, Angel. If I hadn’t had Luca and Dante kidnap you, your life would be just as it was before.”
It was what she’d once wanted. Her old life back. Her old naivety. But that meant not knowing Nico. It meant never feeling the mysterious and powerful connection to the man who was now part of her. Would she wish him away? Wish away what they had? The answer was obvious; she wished her father hadn’t died in the flat in London, wished she and David had a chance to talk to him about all the lies he’d told. She wished finding out the truth hadn’t been so painful. But to wish anything else would be to undo what had happened between her and Nico, and whatever the future held, she was surprised to realize she didn’t want that.
“What I had before was a lie. I’ll take the truth.” She pressed her body to his. “I’ll take this.”
She didn’t add the rest of it. That she still didn’t know if she could live with his connection to the Syndicate, that she didn’t know how their lives could possibly blend together after this new crisis passed.
They were interrupted by the buzzing of the intercom, and Angel reluctantly pulled away from Nico to press the button.
“Yes?”
“Angel?
” The voice was a little tinny, but she would have recognized it anywhere. “It’s Luca. I’m here.”
13
“I hope you have something new for me,” Nico said.
Luca looked around the high ceilinged kitchen, his gaze continuing to the lagoon beyond the terrace doors. Angel had forgotten how attractive he was—not like Nico, not for her anyway—but still. Luca was tall, with the compact muscle of someone who could quietly and discreetly kick ass. His dark hair was always a little messy over pronounced cheekbones and a strong jaw, and his eyes were a startlingly glacial shade of blue.
“I wish I did,” he said, returning his eyes to Nico. “It’s like a tomb out there. No one’s talking.”
“Then I’ll go back to New York and make them talk,” Nico growled.
Luca shook his head. “Since you left town, the men have been left alone. No more harassment, no more theft. No more data breaches either.”
Nico’s eyes flashed green. “My staying away isn’t a long-term solution.”
“I agree,” Luca said. “But coming back right now would be counterproductive.”
“Well, I’m not staying here,” Nico said, pacing to the big window. “The Miami family makes the rest of the Syndicate look hi-tech.”
“You could go see Raneiro.”
“I asked for his help last time,” Nico said without turning around. “I have to take care of this myself.”
“London?” Luca suggested. “Farrell helped you with Carlo.” He shot an apologetic glance at Angel.
“I’m not hiding.” Nico’s voice was threaded with steel. “I’ll go to LA.”
Angel stood straighter. “LA?”
“You said John Lando didn’t know anything,” Luca said, as if she hadn’t spoken.
“No, I said he claimed not to know anything,” Nico corrected him. “And I never trust a man’s word over the phone. Too easy to lie.”
“Will someone please tell me why we’d go to LA?”
“We won’t go to LA,” Nico said. “I will.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, resisting the urge to argue. That’s what a rational person would do, isn’t it? Find out the details? Get all the information before assuming it would be best to go with Nico instead of jumping at the chance for no other reason than that she couldn’t stand the thought of being apart from him again?
“What’s in LA?” she asked.
“The data breach was routed through some dummy IP addresses in Asia, but it originated in LA,” Luca explained. “John Lando runs the Syndicate’s operation out there.”
She searched her memory. “Isn’t John Lando an… actor? Or a director or something?”
“Producer,” Luca clarified. “But he’s head of the LA family, too. The movie stuff is a front for the Syndicate’s business.”
“More like the Syndicate is a front for his movie business,” Nico said.
“So we would go to LA and do what?” Angel asked.
“I would go to LA and talk to John in person,” Nico said. “Then I’d have Sara Falco run those words you found in Frank’s office and see if she gets a hit that would give me some direction.”
“Sounds good,” Angel said. “I can help.”
“We’re not arguing about this,” Nico said tightly.
Luca cleared his throat. “Mind if I clean up?”
Angel forced her eyes from Nico. “Come on. I’ll show you to one of the rooms.”
She led Luca up the curved staircase and left him in a guest room with an en suite bath. Then she went into her old bedroom and moved the few clothes she had stored in the dresser and closet into one of the other rooms. She couldn’t stay in a bedroom where her father had kissed her goodnight, couldn’t think about her mother’s soft hands tucking her in. She still didn’t know if her mother had been aware of her father’s illegal business activities. She would probably never know, and she was still trying to find a way to live with that.
She took a bath, half hoping Nico would come in and join her. It had only been twelve hours since she’d felt his hands on her naked body, and already she was hungry for him. She’d become a slave to his touch, and she was both disgusted with herself and slightly thrilled by the realization that her body could respond so single-mindedly to someone.
She dried off and slipped on a filmy tank dress of emerald silk. She’d bought it freshman year when she’d come to the beach with friends and had forgotten to pack it when she’d gone back to New York. It was a little shorter than she wore her dresses now, but it was cool and breezy, perfect for the Miami heat. She twisted her hair into a loose chignon and padded on bare feet to the kitchen.
Nico and Luca were on the terrace. They were extraordinarily beautiful with their dark hair, perfectly formed bodies, and easy grace, and she leaned against the doorjamb, listening to them talk in soft murmurs while the sun sunk in the west. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she waited for what looked like a lull in their conversation to step outside.
“Hey.” She ran a hand through Nico’s hair as she took the chaise next to him.
He captured her hand, kissed her palm. “Hey.”
“What are you to whispering about?”
Nico shot Luca a warning glance.
“Nothing,” Nico said.
“Sounds like something a kid says when he’s been coloring on the walls,” Angel said.
“Well, I’m fresh out of crayons,” he said, “so you have nothing to worry about.”
“Hmmm…”
“I was going to start dinner,” Nico said, “but there’s nothing in the fridge.”
“I didn’t have time to call someone,” Angel said. She laughed. “Actually, I’m not even sure who I’d call. I have no idea how to keep all of this stuff running.”
“I’ll have Jenna set up some property management agreements for you,” Nico said. “But not until this is over. I don’t want anyone to know you’re with me right now.”
She knew it was for her own protection, but it still hurt. After all they’d been through, they had to remain a secret. Then again, did she want people to know about her and Nico? Was she ready for what that would mean for her? For David?
“Well, I don’t know about you two, but I’m starving,” Luca said. “Want me to make a take-out run?”
Nico looked over at her, his eyes lingering on her face before dropping to the short dress pooling around her thighs. “Let’s go out.”
“Nico…” Angel started.
“No one knows we’re here,” Nico said. “And we’ll avoid the areas where the Syndicate does business. I know my way around. It won’t be hard.”
Luca rubbed the stubble at his chin. “I don’t know…”
Nico stood, pulling Angel up with him. “We’re in Miami, probably only for a day or two. Let’s go blow off some steam with the tourists.”
Luca hesitated, then nodded. Probably because he knew as well as Angel how futile it was to argue with Nico once he’d made up his mind about something.
“So we’re going to party, is what you’re saying,” Angel said.
“We’re going to eat,” Nico said. “Then we’re going to party.”
14
They started with classic Cuban sandwiches at a tiny deli near the beach. The pork was so flavorful, the chicken so tender, that Angel groaned when she bit into the crusty bread. They washed the sandwiches down with cold beer, then headed to a nightclub a couple blocks from the water. It was about as far as they could get from the tense, exclusive atmosphere of Farrell Black’s club in London, and they did three quick shots of tequila before joining the crush of writhing bodies on the dance floor.
Multi-colored lights flashed over the room, and EDM beat through the speakers posted around the room, the floor shaking to the rhythm of the music. The liquor was working its way into Angel’s bloodstream, warming her from the inside out, loosening her inhibitions. She laughed, losing herself to the music and the collective liberation of the people around her.
She lifted her arms over her head and shook her hips until Nico’s eyes flashed with desire through the half dark of the room. He tried to grab her, but she didn’t want to make Luca feel left out, so she eluded Nico’s grasp and danced with them both, the three of them packed together in in a position that would have been way too intimate if not for the tequila, the intimacy of their shared experiences, the music and darkness that made it seem like the real world was a million miles away.
The chignon had shaken loose, and sweat was beading between her breasts when Luca waved them off and headed for the bar. He hadn’t been gone ten seconds when Nico took her hand and pulled her to him, his hands dropping to her ass as he moved against her. She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, his erection hard against her belly as they moved in time to the beat.
She tipped her head back, lost in the music and the feel of Nico’s hands on her body through the thin material of her dress. The crowd pressed all around them, and Nico turned her around, his hips still moving with hers, so her ass was nestled against his hips. His hands slid down to her upper thighs, and she leaned her head back against his shoulder, the two of them still moving to the music.
He dropped his mouth to her collarbone, his tongue leaving a trail of heat all the way to her neck. His cock was more insistent now. The feel of it against her ass sent a flood of warmth to her core, and she didn’t protest when his hands moved up the bare skin of her thighs, the dress and the crowd hiding his movements. She gasped as he slid his hands down her belly, slipping them into her panties, but there was no one to hear her. Everyone was as lost as she was in the flashing lights and music and abandon.
His palm cupped the mound of her sex, their hips moving together in time to the music, as the silky material of her dress draped around his wrists. Then his fingers were sliding over her soft folds, setting loose a tidal wave of lust inside her body. She wondered vaguely if anyone could see what he was doing to her, but she couldn’t focus long enough to really care. He stroked her clit, swollen with need, and swayed behind her, his cock demanding attention against her ass. She had the insane desire to lift her dress, to feel him penetrate her right on the dance floor, to let him fuck her while everyone moved around them.
Fearless: Mob Boss Book Two (Volume 2) Page 6
