Bocca: A Steel Paragons MC Novel

by Eve R. Hart

  My curiosity screamed at me to look into the bag. I really wanted to, but it felt wrong. You didn’t look in other people’s things, especially not someone’s purse. That was a whole different level of invasion. On top of all of that, I was frightened at what I might even see in there.

  The bruising on his neck called for my fingers to touch it. To caress it. And before I could help myself, I did, gently running the tips of my fingers over it like somehow I could soothe what was there.

  “Are your fingers always so cold?” he asked in a sleep-like murmur.

  “Sorry,” I said snatching my hand back then rubbing it with the other like I could somehow make them warm. I knew I couldn’t. I’d always had cold hands and there wasn’t a thing I could do to change that. Believe me, I had tried.

  “No, I like it,” he said and his lips tipped up in a smile. I couldn’t tell if he thought he was dreaming or not. Maybe he was somewhere in a weird state of consciousness like his brain was too frightened to let him slip too far under, afraid that the danger might still be there. “Rosemarie.”

  The whisper of my name had me humming in response as I studied his face. I don’t think he actually knew that he’d said it out loud. It came out dreamy and dare I say, whimsical.

  That had to be my imagination. This was all strange and perhaps I was being a bit silly.

  When he said nothing and it was clear he’d passed out again, I grabbed a clean set of clothes and made my way into my bathroom, locking the door behind me. I should have been worried, but I wasn’t. Even if he woke, even if he could somehow get out of that bed, I had this feeling deep inside that he wouldn’t harm me. So I showered, washing all the events of the day off. All of them. From the car crash victims, to the man that came in with his thumb on ice in a plastic bag, to the stranger sleeping in the next room over.

  After I’d dried and dressed, my tired feet carried me out to the living room almost blindly. As my body fell heavily against the cushions of the couch, I thought about how I needed to try to get in touch with Sara Ann. But my hand never made it to reach for my phone. My fingers never got the chance to unlock my screen and type out a simple text. No, sleep took me over as I tried to hold on to the thought of all the things I needed to do.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Lucy

  Something was wrong. I could feel it like little knives poking me all over. I rolled over, the moonlight filled the room just enough so that I could see the peaceful face of my husband as he slept beside me.

  My husband.

  Yes, that still felt strange.

  But there wasn’t time to think about that now.

  I knew if I didn’t get out of this bed right this second, then I never would. I’d end up waking him and begging him to make love to me again and again. Not that I really had to beg. My husband worshiped and loved me pretty much from the moment he laid eyes on me.

  I pushed the strange events that brought us together out of my mind. I needed a computer, or in a pinch, a phone. This was our time, we had both agreed to leave everything behind for two weeks. Two weeks away, in a strange country, eating delicious food and drinking too much. Two whole weeks where we were just us. We were supposed to be living in our little bubble where our world revolved around just that, us.

  Somehow, as I carefully slipped out of bed, I felt like I was breaking some sort of vow to him. This wasn’t an addiction. It wasn’t the need to check on things, to have my fingers touch the keys as my eyes darted through many different images. It wasn’t about that. This was about the feeling that I had and I knew, just knew, that something was wrong. I couldn’t ignore it. Couldn’t pretend that I hadn’t woken up in a cold sweat. Couldn’t tuck myself into my husband’s side and go back to sleep. I had to believe that he would understand that.

  Remembering that the hotel had a so-called business center, I dressed quietly. And because I was smart and caring, I left a note right where he could see it. If he woke, which I prayed that he didn’t, then he would know right where to find me. Slipping my key-card into my pocket, I took in a deep breath.

  There were so many things he’d done for me, my man. He’d brought me out of the dark into the light, in a way. He had torn down the walls of my comfort all the while, becoming my new comfort. I knew this, and perhaps I was alright with that. I could tell he was too. While I left the house without him at times, it wasn’t as easy to do as when he was by my side. Something as simple as stepping outside of this hotel room caused a headache to push at my brain, a tightening in my chest, and a turning in my gut.

  Tucking my head so that my hair created a curtain around my face, I exited the safe space into the hall. With quick feet, I made my way to the elevator. Once I was in the lobby, I wove my way to where I’d remembered seeing the sign for the business center. Turned out it was just a small room, where two of the walls were all glass. Two computers sat back-to-back as if that would give you some sort of privacy. I sat down and got to work, not completely sure what I was even looking for.

  I started simple, checking emails and my voicemail. Nothing that popped out that screamed urgency.

  Next, I checked the news but there were no big events that stuck out.

  Then on a whim, I checked to see what was going on in the city where the auction was being held that I’d asked Bocca to look into. I needed to reach out to him and see how it’d gone, but I was going to hold off for now. I hadn’t forgotten what I’d asked of him, the possible danger I sent him into. Though it should have been a simple request, it felt heavy to me. The only thing that set me at ease was that I knew he’d have an army behind him. That along with his club, he’d be able to come up with a plan and have the men right there with him as he went in. I’d seen what they could do, how they could go into a fight and come out winning. I’d been there to see the carnage they left behind. A thought that still made me shudder to this day.

  However, as I pulled up news articles for Charlotte, one thing caught my attention right away. The lies it wove didn’t fool me for one second. I knew where I’d sent Bocca, I knew what I’d sent him into. This was it, the eerie feeling that clawed at my spine. Something went wrong. All those bodies, those girls, and maybe even boys, that he was supposed to save. All of them burnt to a crisp.

  A tear slid down my cheek and right there, in that silent, strange room, I cried for all those innocent people I’d wanted to save. I should have been there. I should have called in more people. I shouldn’t have thought it would have been that easy.

  Panic gripped me tight as I thought about Bocca being there. About his brothers being there. Had they made it out? What if I’d sent them to their deaths? No, I didn’t want to believe it.

  “I’m not supposed to wake up cold and alone. Especially not on my honeymoon.” His voice held a joking tone, the one only meant for me, and it caused me to jump only because I wasn’t expecting it. “Luce?” This time there was worry there as he took in my face.

  In a flash, he was by my side, lifting me up and taking my seat as he cradled my body into his. He said nothing as he looked at the computer screen. My eyes roamed over the handsome features of his face. The dark eyes that always found me in a crowded room in an instant. The lips that kissed all of my worries away. The strong brow that furrowed when he was holding back things he wanted to say. The nose that flared right before he took me. All of him, all of it was mine. All of it mine forever.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “Where I sent Bocca,” I choked out.

  “Shit,” he spat out as his arms tightened around my slender frame. “You can check my phone from here.” It wasn’t a question because he knew that I could even if I’d never told him so before.

  I turned in his lap, my fingers moving fast over the keys.

  “You have four voicemails,” I said pulling up the text versions of them. I looked at the numbers trying to place them.

  “That one,” he said as his finger hit the screen and I opened it without a pause.

&nb
sp; We need Lucy.

  A message sent to him for me. Why hadn’t anyone tried to contact me directly? They had my number. Nadya and Allison knew how to get in touch with me, so why hadn’t they? I felt like there was something I was missing. I blinked, my mind trying to process everything.

  Was it too much to hope that this was all a misunderstanding? That by the time I called, everything would be fine? That none of it had happened in the first place? Was it too much to wish that Bocca was fine, the innocent kids were fine, and I could go back up to our room and have the carefree happiness that I felt just hours before?

  Even as those questions passed through my head, I knew better. That was the kind of lives we led. This was the dangerous line we walked. It would never end and maybe, in a small way, I didn’t want it to. Because there was evil in the world and if I could help fight against it, help stop it, help make it so it didn’t exist, then I would never turn my back on that.

  “We need something more secure than this,” I said knowing that there was work to be done.

  “Tell me what you need,” he simply said back, no bite to his tone, no aggravation about broken promises, no less love for me.

  Because he knew, like me, we couldn’t ignore this, we couldn’t turn our backs. So these men weren’t exactly our family, but they were our people, sewn from the same gray cloth and all that. They were the good in the dark corners of the room. They were what the world needed in order to see the light. This was who we were, this was where our hearts beat the strongest.

  “Tell me how I can help,” I said to Diesel an hour later when we had a secure line and could speak freely. I didn’t wait for the hello or the pleasantries of I’m sorry to bother you on your honeymoon, because those things didn’t matter. Time was ticking and I needed to know where to start looking.

  It was only after he’d gotten permission from his president that he told me everything that they knew. Which wasn’t much beyond what I’d already figured out or suspected. The only thing he did let me know was that they were pretty sure that Bocca wasn’t in that building. They suspected that he’d either been taken and was being held somewhere, or that he’d somehow gotten out and was laying low for the time being.

  I nearly lost my cool when he told me that they’d let Bocca go in alone. I couldn’t believe that. I was angry for Bocca and also mad at myself. I should have followed up and made sure he could have handled it. I wanted to ask why they’d let this happen, but I knew that even if I did, I probably wasn’t going to get any kind of answer.

  By his tone, I could tell that they weren’t even entertaining the thought that he was dead. Which didn’t surprise me one bit. These guys were all tough from the outside but it was no secret that they had big hearts. Or that they weren’t ready to admit that one of their own may have fallen.

  He did shock me when he told me that he’d called in The Hunter and that somehow Nadya had pushed Silas into the equation. There had been no word, though, and that didn’t surprise me because I knew how The Hunter worked. No, I didn’t know him on a personal level, but I’d seen him in the background enough to know how he handled his jobs. He went dark when he went on the hunt. He didn’t resurface until the job was done and he was delivering the package, or whatever you wanted to call it. So they wouldn’t know, they wouldn’t hear from him until he’d found Bocca and returned him.

  That left me to work the angle of Keften. I’d only realized it was his operation after seeing the symbol on the door in the background of one of the pictures. I wish I’d known this sooner, but there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. I had the answers now and so I had a direction to go in. I hung up and got to work on the laptop that my husband had left the room to secure. I didn’t ask how or who, I was just grateful that he had the connections that I needed right now.

  Keften was a slippery one, always had been. The burning question itching at the back of my brain was how the hell had he found out about Bocca? How did he know? Or was there something else that had made him flip? Even if I had no proof, I knew he’d been the one to set the fire. It was his way of covering his tracks. Which led me to believe that he’d somehow figured out who Bocca was.

  There was that feeling tickling at my spine again. The one that told me that there was more to this picture. Some big key piece that I had been missing all along. But I had a feeling it wouldn’t be unearthed here, with my fingers on the keys, digging into things that were never meant to see the light of day. It was something that my skills wouldn’t be able to help with because this was a carefully kept secret, a pawn hidden in the dark corner.

  I felt defeated because I couldn’t find the answers. I felt broken and sad that I couldn’t help. All the things I had at my fingertips and none of it useful. With nowhere else to go, I put feelers out there. I left messages with trusted sources. I dropped cryptic words in unseen places. Places that only certain people might be looking, hopefully trying to dig into the same thing that I was. Then I held my breath, waiting for some kind of answer or the call telling me that Bocca was safely back home.

  Then, feeling useless and keyed up, I went back to bed. Back to my husband. And let him use his fingers, his tongue, his cock to distract me until I couldn’t even remember what I was waiting for.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Rosemarie

  I woke feeling stiff and confused. It wasn’t until I opened my eyes and noticed that I was in my living room that everything came rushing back in. The stranger that was in my bed and the state that I’d found him in. And the fact that I’d taken care of him as best as I could.

  I grabbed a fresh bottle of water before I wandered into the bedroom. I knew I needed to check on him and more than that, I needed to get him into the shower. I’d cleaned out his wounds last, but I knew I needed to do it again. That would only work if I could get the rest of the filth and grime off of his body.

  I knew it was going to be awkward and weird because he certainly wasn’t going to be able to clean himself. I was just going to have to flip my professional brain on and do it like it was my job. I could handle it that way. Nurse Rosemarie. I just had to pretend that the warm lights of my place were more like the harsh fluorescent bulbs in the hospital. That the mix of rose pedal and sage that floated through my home was more of a sterile scent that clung to the cold air of the exam rooms and hallways.

  As soon as I stepped into the view, his blue eyes landed on me as his body attempted to jerk to attention. Once he saw that it was me and not some kind of danger, his posture easily relaxed back into the bed.

  I could have said something comforting or gave an apology for frightening him, but instead, I chose to push past it so as not to embarrass him. I could see that panicked look on his face, even if it was only there for a flash. A man like him wasn’t one to have fear, and if he did, he never wanted to show it. I knew this well enough and so I chose to move along like nothing had happened. Like I was completely oblivious to it.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked and winced. It didn’t escape me that I had my Ms. Nice Nurse voice going on. And by the huffed laugh that made its way out of his mouth, it didn’t escape him either. Giving a shrug and a smile, I moved closer to the bed.

  “Oh, just peachy,” he replied giving me a lopsided smile.

  “Do you think you can move? I figured it would be a good idea to take a shower. A quick one though, don’t want to sit under the spray for too long.”

  “If I say no, does that mean you will give me a sponge bath?” I almost missed the wink that came with his statement.

  I should have been mad. I should have turned the nice girl thing off and flipped him the bird. Or worse. I should have dumped the whole bottle of ice cold water over his head. But there was something in his tone that made me pause. It was like he was trying to cover up his pain. This sexy—almost sexist—charm was just his mask, his way to make light of the dark. So I let it slide and shook my head.

  “Come on, stud,” I said in a joking tone as I tried to help him sit
up then tucked myself under his arm. “Up you go.”

  I went slow, knowing that every part of him had to be hurting. He grunted and paused. My head turned to look at his face to gauge the level of discomfort, only as my eyes landed on his everything seemed to stop.

  “I realized that I don’t even know your name,” I whispered almost breathlessly.

  “Bocca,” he said and I cocked my head as much as I could in this position.

  “That’s your name?” I asked skeptically.

  “That’s the only one you need to know.”

  “So, you want me to call you Mouth?” I said because I knew that’s what that word meant in Italian.

  There were so many times my grandmother would say ‘Calma quella bocca’ to us children when we were being too rowdy. ‘Calm that mouth.’ She spoke English well but it seemed like scolding us in Italian was more effective, or so she thought. She did the same thing to my granddad, who was very much American, but loved her every single time she yelled at him. She wasn’t truly a mean woman, she was just stern. Which was quite the opposite of my all jokes granddad.

  Bocca nodded, a little something that I guessed was surprise on his face.

  “People seem to think that I run mine, and at times, let it get the best of me.”

  I heard his words, I did, but I already had his number. Maybe that was what people thought and perhaps even the reason he’d gotten the name. But I could tell that this man right here, didn’t just run his mouth just to run it. No, he used it as a weapon, if you will. Or maybe it was more of an armor or distraction. That part I hadn’t figured out yet. But what I could tell you, was that he knew what he was doing, he calculated what he said in a way that most people would never be able to tell.