Gabrielle’s phone alarm sounded at eight in the morning, startling her awake. Even after a night of drinking, she had to get up to take Max for his morning walk or he’d be in her room, tugging at the covers with his teeth.
She rolled to her side, feeling a delicious ache between her thighs as she reached to turn off the alarm. What had she been thinking last night? Or had she been thinking at all? She’d had sex with a virtual stranger in a public place. Officer Gabrielle Fawkes had broken the law. If anyone had caught them, she could have been charged with “open or gross lewdness” and “indecent exposure.” Hysterical laughter bubbled up in her chest. She hadn’t even thought about the greater risks of her illicit activity—being kicked off the Garcia case, or even worse, losing her job.
And yet the crazy thing was, if she could go back in time, she would make the same choice again.
She sat up, pushing aside her pink-and-white duvet. She’d never had sex like that in her life, never imagined sex could be so raw, wild, and uninhibited. His dirty talking had made her wet, but not as much as the way he took control.
Take off your panties. Lift your dress. Beg.
Just the thought of the things he said sent her arousal spiraling. She slid her hand between her legs, imagined it was Luca touching her. His fingers. His body. His words.
I want to fuck you.
Who said that and expected it to happen? Did he even know what he did to her?
She slicked her finger over her clit, and need ricocheted through her. He’d given her a year’s worth of fantasies in that one encounter. And it wasn’t just his dirty talking. It was everything about him: the way he looked, the way he moved, his magnificent body, his deep voice, his sheer and utter dominance …
For the first time in two years, she felt alive, and she wanted more. More naughty whispers in her ear. More rough hands on her body. More walking on the edge with a dangerous man. More than just a fantasy.
You need something, you ask me.
But she couldn’t ask him. Even if he’d wanted her number, she’d run out the door before he had a chance to ask, and he hadn’t pursued her. Returning to the restaurant was out of the question. She’d initiated that encounter, but she wasn’t doing it again or he would think she was desperate and pathetic. He might have held the power last night, but she had power of her own.
With her palm against her clit, she slid two fingers inside herself, remembering every detail of last night. The intoxicating scent of his cologne, the ripple of his shoulders beneath his shirt, the heat of his body, his thick fingers deep inside her …
Come for me.
She came with a gasp, her pussy tightening around her fingers, pleasure rippling out to her fingers and toes. If just the thought of him made her horny, what would it be like to be with him every night?
She rolled out of bed and surveyed the bedroom. Sunlight streamed across the fluffy white area rug from the edges of the blinds, poking lazy fingers over the wrought-iron bed frame, and reclaimed furniture, painted in pastel green and pink. David’s house had been all chunky dark wood furniture, hardwood floors, and bold colors. Manly. Solid. Stable. Built to last—the way he was supposed to be. She put her hand to her neck, but her locket was sitting on the dresser where Nicole had left it after they got home.
She followed the rich scent of coffee to the living room, where Nicole and Max were curled up in front of the television on the overstuffed red couch. Gabrielle and Nicole had furnished the small fifties-style bungalow with an eclectic assortment of furniture from charity and thrift shops. Gabrielle had sold all David’s furniture along with the house because the memories they elicited were too painful to bear.
“Morning.” Nicole gave Gabrielle a wave as she headed over to the kitchen. “I took Max out already. Mrs. Henderson was already up and watering her garden. She mentioned yet again how happy she is to have a police officer living next door. You’d think she’d be happy to have a casino dealer next door, too. If she ever wanted to have a night on the town, I could show her some tricks.”
Gabrielle poured a cup of coffee and joined Nicole on the couch. They had a good relationship with their elderly neighbor, who was always happy to watch Max, and in return they kept an eye on her place and ran errands for her if she couldn’t get out.
“You don’t look like you’re suffering too badly from last night.” Nicole looked up over her cup and grinned. Gabrielle had told Nicole and Cissy a very condensed version of what had happened with Luca upstairs in the nightclub, and they had mercifully not pressed her for details.
Max moved over to lay his head on Gabrielle’s lap. He had been found sleeping on an old mattress beside a dumpster after his family moved away and abandoned him. Loyal Max couldn’t be coaxed away from the mattress because it smelled like his owners, but when a shelter worker offered him food and water, starvation finally overrode his need to be loved.
“So when are you seeing Mr. Sex on a Stick again?”
“I’m not. It was a crazy, one-time thing. I just needed to get him out of my system.” She sipped her coffee, letting the bitter liquid slide over her tongue as her lie hung in the air.
Nicole stretched out, putting her feet on the worn oak coffee table. “You don’t get guys like that out of your system. They ruin you for all other men. Trust me.”
“Are we talking about Luca or Clint?”
“Clint.” Nicole worried the already frayed edge of the Cubs nightshirt she wore to bed. “I’m seeing him tonight.”
“Oh, honey. No.” Gabrielle’s heart squeezed in her chest. “Don’t go. He’s probably watching ‘Pornocchio’ or ‘Great Sexpectations’ right now. And he probably spent the night with someone else. You always hate yourself after you go over there. You can do so much better than him.”
“I’m not strong like you.” Nicole stood and crossed the hardwood floor to the kitchen. A small breakfast bar separated the two rooms, and she poured her coffee on the other side. “And it’s not easy for me to find guys. Everyone I meet turns out to be a dud. At least with Clint, I know what I’m getting. And he was very sorry about last time. He says he wants to make it up to me tonight.”
Gabrielle didn’t feel strong. After David died she’d just gone through the motions, trying to get through each day, until she’d managed to get into Narcotics, and since then she’d been living solely for revenge.
At least, until last night when Luca had awakened something in her that made the world seem bright again.
Gabrielle eased Max off her lap. “We didn’t exchange numbers, so it won’t happen. Plus, he’d probably be turned off if he found out what I do for a living. He was very much a man’s man. He’s the first guy who has ever made me feel feminine. I haven’t felt that way since my mom died.”
“I guess living in a house with three brothers didn’t give you many opportunities to indulge your girly side.” Nicole picked up her mug and a blueberry muffin from the container on the counter.
“Not the way I did with my mom.” Gabrielle sighed. “My stepmother wasn’t into traditional girly stuff. And David was very practical. He liked my hair in a ponytail so it didn’t get in the way, and he thought heels were silly. If I bought lingerie, he’d tell me it was a waste of money because he was just going to take it off me. Luca is almost his total opposite. He loved my hair loose. He thought my dress and heels were sexy. I shouldn’t have liked him calling me angel or whispering beautiful things in Italian, but I did.”
Nicole laughed. “Maybe you’re right. Seducing women is like breathing to Italian men. The only way you know if they’re serious is if they bring you home to meet their mother.”
Max whined at the door, and Gabrielle went to the kitchen to rinse out her cup. They always went for a walk at this time on the weekends, and even though he’d gone out with Nicole, he apparently didn’t want to break tradition.
“I’ve also got Jeff to think about,” she said. “He’s been so good to me, but until I met Luca I thought I couldn’t reciprocate his feelings because I wasn’t over David. Now I’m pretty sure that it’s because he’s just not the right guy. I need to have a talk with him and be up front about how I feel so he stops expecting something to happen.”
If that was the case, she’d made a mistake not giving Luca her number. Maybe she’d just let the right guy get away. Or had she?
This isn’t the last time.
* * *
“So where did you disappear to on Friday night?” Mike hefted his baseball bat as Luca knocked on Glamour’s steel door. Paolo and Little Ricky, a soldier in Luca’s crew, stood back in case things got rough. They had come to the nightclub in the light of day to convince Glamour’s owner, Jason Prince, that he needed the Mafia’s “protection,” and sometimes protection conversations didn’t always go as planned.
“I came here to check the place out.” Luca had seen the opportunity for easy money as soon as he walked in the door the other night. And easy money was what the Mafia was all about.
A pretty young waitress answered the door. Luca charmed his way in, and she led them through the club to the manager’s office. Luca counted four bars on the main floor and two more on the second floor outside the private balcony suites where he’d had the most incredible sex with a woman who’d disappeared like a goddamn fucking Cinderella. Except she hadn’t even left behind a damn shoe so he could find her.
After the waitress was out of sight, he walked into Jason’s office. No knock. No warning. In the protection business, establishing dominance and instilling terror in the customer were key.
“Who are you?” Jason jumped up from his desk, surprisingly nimble for a middle-aged man whose considerable paunch was straining the buttons of his shiny red shirt. “Who let you in?”
“How about a little respect? You’re speaking to Mr. Rizzoli.” Mike tapped the bat against his palm as Little Ricky closed the door behind them, his gold chains jangling against the zipper of his tracksuit. Soft and doughy, Little Ricky always dressed like he was on his way to the gym, although it was the last place he would ever be.
“Who the fuck is Mr. Rizzoli?”
“Your new guardian angel.” Luca settled on the soft leather chair in front of Jason’s desk.
Jason groaned. “I’m not stupid. I know what kind of help you have to offer. But I’m already paying the Albanians for protection. Arbin and Jak. You know them?”
“I do know them.” Luca smirked. “But I’m afraid they won’t be able to help you anymore. They’ve gone on a permanent swimming vacation.” Damn Albanians had moved deeper into his territory than he had realized. He’d never been so glad of Frankie’s penchant for concrete shoes. “Feel free to give them a call. I have all the time in the world. Little Ricky will look over your shoulder to make sure you’re calling the right guys.”
Relaxed now that he knew he had unintentionally dealt with the competition, Luca put up his feet. He had on a new pair of monk strap Salvatore Ferragamo’s that he’d shined up for the occasion although he wasn’t sure if he liked the strap or not.
“Mike. What do you think of this buckle?” He tilted the shoe so Mike could take a look while Jason made a call to a cell phone at the bottom of Lake Mead.
“I like it, boss.”
He glanced over at Jason, who was still on the phone, and removed one shoe. “What do you think the heel is made of, Mike? Give it a tap.”
Mike knew the drill. He took the shoe and used it to knock a fancy glass bowl off its pedestal, a warning to Jason to hurry it up.
Jason froze when the bowl shattered on the floor. “Oh, my God!” he shrieked. “That was a Chihuly. I paid fifteen thousand for it.”
“You got ripped off.” Luca took his shoe from Mike and slipped it on his foot. “My mother has nicer bowls, and she got them at the thrift shop for fifty cents each.”
He lifted a finger and Little Ricky reached over Jason’s shoulder and snatched the phone from Jason’s hand.
“Hey! Give me my phone!”
Luca shook his head. “This is a dangerous area you’re living in. You were right to look for protection, but you got it from the wrong guys. I’m here to make sure that you get the protection you need at a good price.”
Jason’s face tightened. “I can’t afford your kind of protection. The nightclub isn’t doing well. It was a struggle to pay the Albanians. If I have trouble I can’t handle, I’ll call the police. They’ll come out for free.”
“He’s going to call the police.” Luca signaled with two fingers, and Little Ricky smashed Jason’s phone under his shoe. “That’s going to be hard without a phone.”
Luca slowly lowered his feet, and leaned forward, a prearranged signal for everyone to start trashing the room.
Within seconds, he heard a crash behind him. And then another. Little Ricky smashed a few statues before he positioned himself behind Jason, ready for the next bit of fun. Even Paolo, who was often reluctant to get involved in the more destructive aspects of the business, grabbed a framed poster off the wall and smashed it on the floor.
“No. No. Stop. Please.” Jason jumped out of his seat and his voice rose to a whine. “Those are irreplaceable.”
“So are fingers,” Luca said.
Little Ricky grabbed Jason from behind and forced him back into his chair. Luca leaned across the desk and grabbed Jason’s hand, splaying his fingers out on the smooth mahogany surface. “We’re offering you a good deal: whatever you were paying the Albanians plus ten percent. The way this works is you say yes and keep your fingers. Anything else that comes out of your mouth raises the price by twenty percent and one finger. We’ll start with the baby one so you get a feel for how it goes.”
Little Ricky pulled out his knife, and a grin spread across his face. He was sick when it came to persuasion.
Sweat beaded on Jason’s forehead and his body trembled. “Yes. Yes. Okay. I’ll do it.”
“I think we’re going to work well together.” Luca released Jason’s hand. “Little Ricky will be coming by every week to collect the payment. We’ll take the first one now. You got cash?”
Jason paled. “It’s in the safe. I can’t open it, though. It’s time-locked.”
“Not a problem. Paolo specializes in safes.” Luca patted his young apprentice. “What else do you have in there?”
“Security tapes, contracts, jewelry and phones we find on the dance floor…”
Something niggled at the back of Luca’s mind. A mystery to be solved. “Do you have footage of everyone who comes into the club on those tapes? How about ID records?”
“The tapes are hard-copy backups of digital files,” Jason said. “We’ve got ID records, too. The computer system checks IDs against the ANGEL database held by all the nightclubs in the city so we can identify troublemakers who’ve been kicked out of other clubs.”
“Looks like your angel didn’t guard you too well ’cause she let me in last night.” Luca grinned. He’d spent a few months in jail as a teenager after being caught driving a stolen car through the window of a jewelry store with a weapon in his jacket for which he didn’t have a concealed firearm permit. With a few other Mafia associates to keep him company, the time had passed quickly, and he’d come out with the criminal record that was a rite of passage for a made man.
Angel. Christ, he wasn’t superstitious, hadn’t put much stock in his mother’s belief in signs, but how could he ignore it? He crossed himself, the way his mother always did when she felt she’d been blessed, and made a mental note not to skip church this Sunday.
“I want to see the security records.” He leaned forward, trying not to let his excitement show. “I’m looking for a girl…”
Mike snorted a laugh. “You’re always looking for a girl, boss.”
Luca smiled. “This girl is special.”