But maybe I’d been wrong about the former.
I was so quick to cast aside my former life, so easily sucked in by the promise of something new. But look where “new” got me.
Maybe I’d been a fool.
And who was I if I wasn’t a Gafanelli?
Now, I was nothing. I’d be nothing… and when they buried my body in the years to come, the stamp of my “nothingness” would be imprinted on my gravestone in Potter’s field.
I’d given up my life… and thought somehow that I could replace it by being Bishop’s wife.
And the most awful part? He never really cared.
I was a job to him, for my father… for the Feds. It was simply an exchange of goods for services.
And was I any different?
I gave up my goods… and Bishop serviced me. Right into a shithole.
If there was any truth to the theory about whores and housewives… then maybe it really was impossible to turn one into the other.
I try to wash away the stigma of my stupidity along with all the other labels that can apply.
I hop out of the shower—cold, wet and alone.
The second I wrap the hotel’s uncomfortable white towel over my breasts, I realize that I’m not so much of the latter.
I enter the bedroom, and the sound of a creak on the nearby floorboards catches my attention. I turn, looking towards the front door when a warm hand clamps over my mouth and chin.
Instinctively, I claw at the arm and hand.
A voice, raspy and gravelly, breathes into my ear.
“Please, Dani,” it pants. “Try not to scream. I don’t want to…”
But it’s too late.
I don’t care or want to know what the wheezing man needs.
I attack, planting one foot against the dresser and the other against the wall to push off. I drive my body backwards into his, slamming us both into the brick that lies directly beside the bathroom wall.
He hits it with a sickening thud and his grasp grows loose. I try to throw him off, attempting to topple his body with my quick movements and pure anger.
But his arm is too strong.
It holds sturdy across my chest, pressing. My towel slips, sliding to the floor, and still I fight.
Heart racing, panic setting in, I throw every ounce of my body weight—bones and all—on top of him, trying to crush him against every corner, every edge, every piece of furniture I can see.
The man’s grunts and groans spur me even further.
His exhaustion is setting in. I can hear the tiredness in his voice.
Instead of words, he speaks in cries of pain. He rests against the doorway breathing hard, with me in his arms, and his whispers across the top of my head aren’t much more than a wispy rattle.
A dying croak, it seems, as his will tapers out, diminishing into nothing.
He suddenly lets me go, and I whirl on him, stark naked and almost ashamed. Doubled over, he raises his hand to seemingly stop my oncoming screams.
He raises his head… and lets me look into the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever fucking seen.
I cover up a gasp.
Bishop. Full flesh and bone. Looking half the man he was when I left him.
He almost buckles at the knee.
Bright red blood spatters the color of my hotel curtains decorate the bandages at his chest and shoulder. His hair is sweaty, plastered above his brow, and I can see the slivers of sweat at his neck and torso.
He wears a jacket to cover his naked abdomen. Shirtless and in jeans, he nearly kneels at my feet.
I want to go to him, but can’t. I look on at him in surprise as my feet turn into glue on the floor.
“Dani,” he whispers my name, trying to walk towards me.
Bent at the waist, his body slanted at an awkward angle, he makes his way towards me.
Ignoring my nudity, he holds a hand out for my arm.
Afraid, worried and utterly bewildered, I reach for him, grabbing his muscular biceps in my tiny hands.
His forehead grazes mine, and in that split fraction of a second my skin caresses his, my “hero” of yesterday, my former dark knight collapses, falling into my arms so hard he brings me down with him.
I keep his head from hitting the floor and with one fell swoop, I cradle him in my arms, forever reversing the story of the old fabled tale.
It turns out the Mafia princess—the damsel in distress—can rescue the knight after all…
***
BISHOP
I wake up to a new morning… and with hands on me too gentle to be Delaney’s.
Something cold and wet touches my face, swiping across my brow, and I flinch as cold water runs down my cheek.
I open my eyes to find something much warmer replacing it.
Dani.
As gorgeous as ever. As regal as ever.
As angry as ever.
Her hair half-wet and wavy, her turquoise-colored eyes blazing, she glares down at me with a look mixed with concern and acrimony.
Now fully clothed, she is every bit as appealing as she was when she was stripped of every single stitch of fabric. Naked and proud, clothed, concerned, or downright indignant, she is the only thing my spirit searches for.
No amount of money, no FBI badge, or “Crow” title can alter what Dani has ultimately done to my soul.
And yes… I was a liar.
Not about my mission to take down Don Gafanelli. Not about being the Crow.
Not even about being in the FBI, no.
I had lied to her, had lied to myself about giving her “everything.”
I hadn’t.
I’d given her my body because that part was easy, but my soul had long been dead.
It had been eaten by hatred, a deeply rooted resentment for the man who killed my parents, and as karma would have it… that same man’s daughter is the one who brought me back to life.
Daniela was the light. She was the flame, the spark that had ignited my spirit again.
What an ironic world.
The man with too many identities fell for the beautiful woman with none.
We have forever changed each other… and I know a piece of me will seek her wherever she goes.
It has already sought her here… notwithstanding the fact that my mind was stuck in an unforgiving bind and my body alone—battered, bruised and bullet-ridden—wasn’t strong enough to endure the journey.
She traces a petite hand, warm and sweet-smelling, from my face down to my battered body. I flinch at her touch, feeling surprised when it doesn’t hurt me, feeling shocked when I find myself sinking into it.
I lay my head back down onto her bed.
“You let me stay the night.”
She ignores me.
“You’re burning up,” she says softly. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I wince. “Something I should have done before.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
I cough. “And where else would I be?”
“In the hospital. With the FBI. In the morgue.” She throws a cold look at my face before reaching up, placing a cold wet rag across my forehead once more.
“Which of those would you rather I end up?”
“Take your pick,” she replies coldly. “You can do whatever you want. Ride off into the sunset with Delaney for all I care. I know he’s waiting for me to lead him to the rest of my family.”
“I think so, too.”
I can tell my answer shocks her. Her pretty mouth forms into an enticing “O” before shutting completely. I shut my eyes… just to stop thinking about that pretty mouth and all its pretty “O’s.”
I finish my answer.
“I had to be here.”
I feel the wipes of Dani’s cold compress begin to slow down.
“Why?” she asks.
“Because Delaney will be here. He’s a goddamned hard-ass and the most relentless piece of shit on the planet. I should know…”
I wince with my eye
s still clenched shut.
“He taught me every thing I know.”
I open my eyes.
“I need to talk to you. Something is happening…”
“Oh, now you want to talk…?” The comment is sarcastic, but there’s a scathing contempt underneath that cuts me to the quick. Dani dips the white rag back into a bowl of ice-water.
She places the rag back on my neck and head.
I know she’s referring to the FBI, to me, to my lies. I’d be shocked if she didn’t try to suffocate me with the rag before all was said and done.
I’m still surprised that she took me in so readily.
This could be a trap… like before.
I stare at her face.
“Yes,” I answer at last. “You need to know what you’re dealing with. Everything… that you’re dealing with. I’m sorry that you were in the dark before…”
I groan, grabbing for my shoulder.
Suddenly, Dani stands, throwing the washcloth on the nightstand. She crosses her arms under ample breasts and leaves them planted there.
They form a line between us, an unspoken boundary that states “Do Not Cross,” leaving no confusion.
She holds her arms high, and I prepare myself for another fight.
I am honestly too weak to amount to half of shit… and if I die, at least it’ll be at the hands of Dani and not bleeding in the middle of some Spanish hospital with Delaney lecturing me to death.
I’ll take the former any day.
I wait for her reply.
“You wanna know what being in the dark is? It’s walking around with blinders on, running into every obstacle in your path without any escape in sight. You don’t know what’s coming at you or when. Your back is pushed against the wall and everything is dangerous.”
She glares.
“Moving is dangerous. Staying still is dangerous. Taking a step is dangerous. You’re so afraid, so fucking terrified that something will come shooting at you from the dark. Because you’re defenseless. You’re exposed. You’re rendered completely and utterly fucking helpless…”
She lets the statement linger.
“Now imagine it’s someone you love who is holding the light switch.”
With the dropping of that little bomb, she turns towards the bathroom. Back in a pair of jean shorts and t-shirt, she saunters to the open doorway.
I stop her before she can go inside with my weakened voice. I hate hearing the fucking pain that’s in its tone.
“Wait…” I grit my teeth. “What do you need from me?”
She looks at me, her eyes full of contemplation and contempt. I watch a light bulb spark inside her mind.
“I need you to help me take your clothes off, help me break your fever… and then get the fuck out of my life,” she finishes.
THE COLD WAR
BISHOP
She’s going to drown me in the bathtub.
She’d have every right to.
Fever, rapid and blistering, had already taken over my body before I ever made it inside of Dani’s hotel room, and while talking to her, unbeknownst to my scrambled mind, I’ve been lying there, mumbling while swimming in a puddle of my own sweat.
The cold rag was an attempt to break the fever.
But it continued to soar.
As Dani draws an ice bath, I listen from the bedroom, soaking in the sounds of the flowing water.
She glances warily at me, her eyes perusing my body from my head to my feet, and I almost don’t have the wits to be wary.
I know she’s challenging me to make a choice.
I can put my trust in Dani’s hands the way she’d once put hers in mine in Annecy or… I can do what I’ve always done…
Walk away.
Go back to the FBI. Accept the consequences of going AWOL.
And live the rest of my days in misery without her.
She’s leaving the decision up to me. I can see it in her angry but beautiful eyes.
I decide to accept the dare.
I wait.
“Are you going to get in or not?” she asks, dipping a hand inside the filled bathtub.
I roll over, placing my feet on the floor with more determination than I actually feel. When I finally stand, my body is weak… but my mind is made up.
“I’m in.”
To my surprise, she walks over to me.
Reaching her hands out, she takes my jacket off, avoiding my wounds before placing it carefully at the edge of the bed. Her hands inching downwards, she places them on my jeans, unzipping and unbuttoning silently as I hold my breath, letting her fingertips brush below my navel.
Dani kneels beside my knees, her fingertips brushing my thighs, skimming as she pulls my pants down past my hips.
One zip, one swoop, two ruffles and I am out of the pants, dropping them to my ankles before I toss them to the side.
Last to go… are my black boxer briefs.
Staring Dani in the face, holding her gaze all the while, she and I slide them down my legs, pulling them gently over each foot.
She doesn’t bat an eyelash as I walk, stark naked, towards the bathroom. I tower over her as she watches. I step into her cold bathtub without another word.
The heat of her gaze keeps me warm the entire time.
***
DANI
He tries to hold his composure as long as he possibly can before his teeth begin to chatter.
The bullets, the ones that tore through the most beautiful combination of ligaments, muscle and flesh I have ever seen, bear their mark on Bishop’s blazing hot skin, and my fingers involuntarily flinch as they touch him.
I try to steep his body beneath the icy layer of the cold water, but it hardly works. The muscle that divides his body into beautifully cut lines is too dense to keep him submerged, and I must admit…
Some part of me finds too much pleasure in putting my hands all over it.
I touch his strong shoulders, letting my hand linger at the blood that begins to tinge the water through his soaked bandages.
“Are you going to try to kill me?” he asks, startling me.
He never opens his eyes.
“No,” I answer.
“I’m half-dead and probably delusional, Dani. My defenses are down, my dick is out in the cold, and I’d rather not die with my balls shrunken to the size of raisins in this artic-cold bath.”
He keeps his face as solid as steel.
“How do I know you haven’t already tried?”
I wipe his face. “Have I tried to cook for you… tried to feed you at all?”
“No.”
“Then I think you’ve answered your own question.”
He smiles slightly, but the expression is more grimace than grin.
He starts to talk.
“I need to tell you something, Dani…” he grunts.
I settle on the edge of the tub, sitting. “I already know, Bishop.”
His eyes shoot open.
“Know what?”
“Know about Delaney. I know he’s the man who helped you growing up.”
He sighs.
“Yeah, he did. He’d straightened me up. Had me set sights on your father and convinced me to take his ass down.”
He looks straight at me.
“To take down all of the Gafanellis.”
“Well,” I comment dryly. “Congratu-fucking-lations. You’re a tenth of the way there.”
He tries to sit up. He almost fails.
He hunches forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
His eyes are amber-green flames, licking at my skin, making it grow hot.
“You think that’s what I’m here to do, Dani? To take you down?”
“You’re FBI,” I say unblinkingly. “The FBI, the government… they’re one of the biggest mafia syndicates there is. What goes on between ‘them’ and us… is simply a big turf war on steroids.”
I shake my head, lowering my gaze from Bishop’s.
“And you are ‘them.’”
“Don’t,” Bishop growls. “Don’t talk about ‘us’ or ‘them’ like it’s you and me. It isn’t… and it never will be. We? We are just you and me, Dani. That’s it… and that’s fucking all.”
“Does Delaney know that?”
Bishop simply glowers, and I look away from him, feeling my defenses soften, trying desperately to keep them high and hard.
One night’s stay, one crumpled-up note in a jean pocket and suddenly I’m convinced that I can trust him again?
Talking to him? Letting him in here? Helping him?
The second he gets better, he could throw my ass back in cuffs. And this time the cuffs won’t come off until I’m rotting away behind the bars of some American penitentiary.
He needs to leave.
“Looks like your fever is breaking… I’ll drain the water. Replace it with a colder batch. And then you can be on your way.”
Sitting, Bishop looks up at me.
“I’m not going anywhere, Dani.”
I balk.
“Yes, you are.”
His voice is calm. Too calm. “No, kitten, I’m not.”
My lips begin to tremble with anger. “You’re mistaking my kindness for weakness. Just because I’d rather not see you die in the middle of my hotel room doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you die.”
I point a finger in his direction.
“You’re nothing but a liar and a fraud.” I clench my teeth together.
I turn, storming out of the bathroom, and to my horror, Bishop—half-bloodied and fully angry—follows on my heels.
Naked and dripping wet from head to toe, he yells at me from behind.
“Why do you want to hold onto who you were, Dani?”
I don’t face him.
“Get out,” I say into the air.
“No. You’re going to stay and fucking talk to me.”
I explode, whirling on him.
“No, Bishop. Fuck you! Despite what you may think and what you’ve tried to do, you don’t own me!”
And then he grabs me, shaking me by the shoulders, as water droplets go flying and my lips clamp shut in surprise.
“Yes, I do,” he rasps, his voice ground with pure grit and gravel.
“From the moment I took one look at you, from the second I put my hands on your skin and claimed your body for myself, you have been mine, Dani. And mine, alone.
Fool's Gold: A Kisses and Crimes Novel Page 16