Busting In (Busted Series Book 1)

by Vanessa M. Knight

“Hi.” She took his view away as she turned to the front door, pulling and testing to make sure it was locked. She spun to him and smiled. “Are you ready?”

  Those lips. His memory did not do those lips justice.

  His lungs stuttered. If he thought her body was gorgeous, her smile was brilliant. Breathtaking. She literally stole the breath from his lungs, making it impossible to speak.

  “Enzo?”

  Her smile dimmed, giving his lungs a chance to re-inflate. He found his voice, probably lodged somewhere in his bronchial tubes or possibly lower. “Sorry. You look amazing.” He leaned in and brought his hand to the small of her back, guiding her to the sidewalk.

  Just that touch had electricity sparking up and down his arm. And that was one touch. Shit.

  He didn’t have time to be enjoying this. He had a mission. The proof he needed to get so the witness would drop their incriminating and incredibly false statements was waiting. And he needed this win to prove to his boss he wasn’t a complete moron.

  Before the Markham disaster, he was up for a promotion that would transfer him to the firm’s office in New York to take the lead on a huge, complicated lawsuit. It was a great opportunity and would put him firmly on track for a partnership. Post Markham disaster, he was barely holding on to his job. Forget partner, his whole career was on the line. He didn’t have time to think about Jessi or the warmth of her skin—

  Her cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink. “Thanks.”

  —or to think about the things that would change her cheeks that color again before the party. Or after. Just no thinking. He took a deep breath. He could do this. He’d had a beautiful woman on his arm for these types of functions before. It wasn’t anything new. Maybe the stutter in his heart was a new development, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

  He was a professional. A lawyer. What that had to do with anything at this point, he had no idea. But maybe if he kept reminding himself of his professionalism, he could control himself.

  “Ready to go?” He crooked his arm and she slid her hand in the bend of his elbow. It felt natural to have her this close. Which was why it was dangerous.

  When they got to the curb, he pulled his arm away and opened the door of his Mercedes SUV. It wasn’t the newest model. But it was clean. Mostly. It really was a piece of crap.

  He held the door open while she slid in the passenger side. That wasn’t so bad. He took his time walking around the front of the car, making sure to breathe. The cold air felt good in his lungs. It was just what he needed. He could do this.

  Piece of cake.

  Bad metaphor. He’d never met a piece of cake he could walk away from. Which actually made it the perfect metaphor.

  He was so screwed.

  Three

  “You look beautiful.”

  Embarrassment roasted Jessi’s face. Thank goodness there was still a chill in the air to keep her from overheating. Just the way he said the words made her feel beautiful. “Thanks.”

  It was weird. She didn’t get all girly. She didn’t gush. Not for anyone, not even men who looked like Italian gods. She wasn’t that type of woman. She was too busy being a realist to get sucked into the fantasy.

  Yet here she was, heading for a party where she would pretend to be the guy’s date—not even a real date. Every compliment he threw her way, every long lingering look was pure intoxication. And when he touched her? She was afraid to look in the mirror because she knew her eyes were probably dilated until they were black. She sucked at this undercover stuff.

  She thought it was real—or at least her body did. Although she wasn’t so far gone that she hadn’t called Maggie before he’d picked her up—asked her about the very gorgeous Enzo to check out his story. She’d like to say she’d called before she even got dressed, but she should get points for remembering to call before she left, right?

  Enzo’s car slowly inched down the closed road in the ritzy Lakeview neighborhood. Once they were waved past the cones blocking the street, they approached the mayor’s large white Victorian. Lights blazed from every corner of the house, highlighting all the Vera Wang-draped women on the arms of Armani-clad men. The women actually sparkled, like fancy Christmas trees. Jewels hung from their ears, their neck, and their wrists. All they needed was an angel topper on their heads. Instead of garland, silk scarves and furs wound around their shoulders, keeping the March chill away.

  Jessi felt ridiculously underdressed. No jewelry. No scarf. No tree topper. Not even a sparkly purse. She’d stashed her key and driver’s license in the inside pocket of her leather jacket. She was like the girl who wore Garaminals to the Oscars—not that anyone would be tragic enough to do that.

  Except her. She looked down and sighed. “Are you sure this outfit is okay?”

  “You’re beautiful.” He smiled at her as he pulled up to the front of the house.

  They words might have been redundant, but they still caused a zing inside all her girl parts.

  The passenger door opened, and the salty scent of the lake mingled with the scent of the evergreens surrounding the house. The valet—at least she hoped that’s who he was, and not random guy—offered his hand. “Welcome.”

  “Thank you.” She slid out of the car and stood on the sidewalk in front of the mayor’s house.

  House? It was huge, more like a brothel…okay, the white Queen Anne was too shiny and virginal to be a brothel. Maybe a sorority. Three floors, a sharply peaked roof, and a large tower that made her think of Rapunzel. Classical music floated outside in soft whispers. No cops would be called tonight for excessive noise. Not that the mayor couldn’t have dealt with it if they were.

  Enzo gave his car key to the valet and walked over to Jessi. Lifting his elbow to her, he waited until she slipped her hand in the crook of his arm. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” She puffed out a breath. She was so not ready for this.

  Instead of leading her toward the front steps, he turned to face her, laying his other hand over hers where it was tucked in his arm. His palm was warm. His fingers soft. Moving over her knuckles—back and forth. Tingles fluttered along her skin and shot straight to her belly. Her body hummed. His touch was electric but it didn’t hold an atom to those eyes.

  The combined glow from the house and the street lamps gave just enough light to show her the look on his face. His eyes were kind as they met hers. Brown eyes. Sweet eyes. Eyes that said he cared.

  She tried to turn away when a wisp of hair tickled the side of her face, but she couldn’t. He was a magnetic field.

  “We can turn around right now.” He let go of her hand to brush her hair behind her ear. “Just say the word.”

  His hand lingered at her jaw, his fingers skimming her skin. She swore she could feel every groove in his thumb as it slid along the curve of her neck.

  He said something about a word. He wanted her to say a word. What word and why, she had no idea. All her brain could focus on was the feel of him on her skin.

  “I can get the car and take you home.”

  Home? She didn’t want to go home. Unless he was going with her, but considering this operation was because of a case he was working, she didn’t think he’d come home with her. At least not until the operation was done.

  “No.” She coated her voice with more confidence then she felt. “Let’s do this.”

  He smiled, those white Chiclets all lined up in a pretty row. Wow. One smile aimed her way and she actually believed they could pull this off.

  “All right then.” He turned, her hand still tucked firmly in his arm.

  They walked up the steps, pausing at the landing. Enzo nodded at the muscle guarding the door. “Lorenzo Antonio Borelli and girlfriend.”

  Jessi’s breath sputtered in her chest. There was officially something wrong with her. Her lungs malfunctioned hearing him call her his girlfriend. She was disturbed just thinking about how pathetic that truly was.

  “Welcome, Mr. Borelli.” The mu
scle at the front door stepped aside. Even the bouncers were formal, in black tie and expensive suits stretched across broad shoulders.

  Another well-dressed goon opened the front door for them. His suit coat hugged his bulging upper arms. He was huge, and guarding the house. The house she was entering under false pretenses. The house she was planning on robbing.

  Drama much? Okay. She wasn’t going to “rob” the house, but her date was going to take something that didn’t belong to him. Which seemed to be exactly what the WWE guys in the penguin suits were here to prevent.

  As she slid past the goon at the door, Enzo dropped her hand so he could guide her with a well-placed hand on her back. And it was well-placed, not too high and not too low. Just the warmth and the strength as he gently urged her forward almost made her forget why they were there. Almost.

  “Have a wonderful evening.” Gigantic door-opener smiled and closed the door behind them.

  The grand foyer, or whatever you called it, led to what looked like a dining room at the back of the house. A broad oak staircase wound up to the left, with a security guard at the foot. To the right, a doorway revealed a living room teeming with the elegant and extravagant. It looked like a Hollywood shindig—at least the kind she’d seen on TV.

  But this was real, and she was a guest. She’d never been to anything so…excessive. She’d never wanted to before. And if anyone ever asked her, she’d never admit that she was in awe.

  “Are you okay?” Enzo murmured in her ear, setting off a wave of goose bumps.

  Jessi hadn’t noticed that her feet stopped moving—she was stuck in the foyer. “Yes.” She moved forward into the living room. Was it called a living room? Living room sounded so mundane. Parlor? Whatever it was, it was big enough for a three-piece band at the far end, a small dance floor, and enough space left over for white-gloved servers to dart around with trays of food and drinks for the fifty or so guests milling around.

  “Would you like a drink?” Enzo nodded to the bar, conveniently located next to the doorway they’d just come through. There wasn’t a line, but a mass of people were converging in that direction.

  “Yes!” She might have said that with a tad too much enthusiasm, but a drink sounded heavenly. Nothing much. Just a little something to round off the edges. She turned, and Enzo stopped her with one broad hand at her waist.

  “Why don’t you stay here and I’ll be right back.”

  She nodded, trying not to think about how good his hand felt. Pushing through the suits clambering for their nightly fix wasn’t her idea of fun, anyway. Leaving Enzo to brave the crowd, she zeroed in on the only seating left, a pair of antique-looking love seats.

  She perched on the edge, watching the crowd, and ran her fingers over the white velvet with gray swirls. Beautiful. So where was this office that Enzo needed to get into? There was another entrance to the room, back by the band, but that’s where the white-glove people appeared with more food. The dining room was back there, and probably the kitchen.

  Not really a great place for an office. Maybe the office was on the second floor. Which wouldn’t be an issue, but the area around the stairs was choked with people. And there was that security guard there, too.

  She took in the room again, realizing that armed guards loitered near all the entrances or exits—depending on how you were looking at it. Armed. The shiny tip of weaponized metal stuck out from the side of their suit jackets. Like they needed to be armed. Most of them had muscles that had engulfed their neck. How did people turn their heads without a neck?

  The blue-eyed beast at the bottom of the stairs turned to look at her, showing just how easy it was for him to turn his head. And right at that moment. He must know what she was thinking, because that blue about bore into her soul. He knew why she was here. She knew it. Her breath held. Her heart skipped around like it was playing hopscotch.

  “Breathe,” a husky voice whispered into her ear. Warm, minty breath tickled along her cheek.

  The he-hulk turned his attention away from Jessi’s tortured soul, moving on to a woman barking back a laugh, surrounded by men.

  Jessi forced air into her lungs and looked up at her not-date, who was holding out a tall glass filled with amber liquid. Beer? “Thanks.” She took a long pull, expecting something fruity. Guys always thought girls were into the frilly. Normally. Enzo apparently wasn’t. There was no overwhelming sweetness. Just a touch. “Goose Island IPA?”

  “I hope that’s okay. I didn’t want to do any hard liquor, and I can’t stand that fruity shit.”

  “Perfect.” Jessi tipped the glass back and let the beer cool her throat. She kept the glass in place for another second or two, wanting to hide the smile that just wouldn’t go away. Goose Island was her favorite beer. She’d gone to high school with the brewmaster’s sister. That girl had the best parties.

  Jessi had always been more of a beer girl—much to the horror of her mother, who didn’t exactly condone drinking but believed if someone had to drink, it should be wine. One more thing Jessi did to disappoint her mother. Jessi tipped the glass, and another wash of liquid courage slid down her throat. A few more of those and she wouldn’t care about being a disappointment or that she was on a secret sexy spy mission.

  Secret sexy spy mission?

  She looked at the glass in her hand. Empty. Empty in sixty seconds flat. How did that happen? On top of the empty stomach, and the fact that she rarely drank, things were about to get interesting. “It’s all gone.” She tipped the glass and one lonely drop hit the hardwood floor.

  “We should probably get you something to eat before you have another.” Enzo smiled. Did she mention how delicious his smile was, with the white teeth and kissable lips against the Italian perma-tan? He handed her his mostly-full beer, and moved to intercept a white-glove bearing a tray full of food.

  “Enzo, my boy, you came.” A man stepped over and held his hand out to her boyfriend.

  Boyfriend. Swoon. Jessi took a pull from the glass in her hand. It was only half full—how did that happen?

  “…Did my assistant get you that court order?”

  “She did, thank you.” Enzo snatched a napkin and two things on sticks from a passing tray and handed them off to Jessi.

  “Ooh, scallops wrapped in bacon.” Or prosciutto. Or some other red fatty meat perfection. She didn’t know the exact type of ham product, but it was salty and smoky. And mixing that with the mildly-fishy seared marshmallow? Heaven.

  She popped the other scallop in her mouth and took another drink of beer. This was turning into one hell of a party. A small crystal stemmed bowl appeared at the side of her head. Diced green and red vegetables lined the bottom, with white creamy stuff on top. A little metal spoon sat in the mix.

  Nummy. She put her beer on the floor next to her feet and grabbed for the bowl. She needed food.

  “…It’s been a great year for Cook county’s conviction rate…”

  Lawyer speak. Lawyer speak. Blah. Blah. Blaaahhh. So boring. But this little cup? So good.

  The spoon jingled as she slid it along the edges and scooped up every last bit of creamy wonderfulness. Well, almost every last bit. There were still little stripes of white at the bottom and along the sides. Abandoning the spoon, she used her index finger to get every last drop. A hand wrapped around hers, stopping her wandering pointer. Wait, there was still more. No one left behind! No one left behind!

  “Yes. This is my girlfriend, Jessi.”

  Squiggles ran along her spine. There was that word again. She was liking that word. She put the empty bowl down next to her beer and stood up. No wobbling. Nice.

  “It’s lovely to meet you, young lady.” The older man shook her hand with a smile. “I should go see if I can find my wife. It was great talking to you Enzo, Jessi.” He nodded and walked away into the crowd.

  Enzo laughed. “How are you feeling?”

  “Great!” She might have said that with the exuberance of Tony the Tiger.

  Enzo leaned in c
lose. Body to body. His hard muscle to her…lack of muscle. “Let’s get you some water and then we need to get to the office.”

  The office. The reason they were here. The job. The no-necks and the shiny guns and the scary blue eyes rammed forward in her mind.

  Well, there went that buzz.

  Enzo couldn’t help but laugh as he moved Jessi’s empty drink glasses from the floor to a table off to the side. She’d downed almost two beers in the span of five minutes. Which would have concerned him, because who drinks that heavily on a first date? Except this wasn’t a date, and she obviously couldn’t hold her liquor. She might drink, but obviously not very often. She was buzzed after the first one—and the second just made her chattier. Under different circumstances this would be a lot of fun. Although, this was still a lot of fun.

  “You don’t drink much, do you?” He handed her an hors d’oeuvre from a passing tray.

  “Not really.” Her eyes had cleared a bit and she wasn’t swaying as much.

  He’d figured some food might soak up the alcohol, and it appeared to be working. He wanted to get what he needed and get out—out of this stuffy, boring party. Don’t get him wrong, he loved talking law. He loved parties. He loved his work. But sometimes he just wanted to get away. And getting away with Jessi seemed like a really good idea.

  “So, what’s the plan?” she whispered, leaning close. She was getting into the cloak-and-dagger. “The stairs are guarded by a he-hulk.”

  He guided Jessi out into the crowd of people milling around in the foyer and past the he-hulk at the stairs, murmuring, “My informant says there’s an elevator toward the back of the house.” Once they were in the short hall leading to the dining room, he saw the elevator. And another guard.

  Enzo leaned against the wall. Casual-like. At least he hoped it looked that way.

  Jessi did the same, and whispered, “Did your informant give you instructions on how to get around the muscle?”

  “Yeah, you’ll fake being sick and we’ll get them to let you upstairs to lie down.” It wasn’t his best idea, but he couldn’t think of anything else.