Savage

by Krista Holt

  But it’s too much. I can’t burn up, not now. It’s too soon. I grasp his arm, squeezing the muscle.

  He pulls back, slowly releasing me, his eyes blazing. “One day.”

  “Maybe.” My grin falters in the aftermath of what’s coursing through my body.

  He smiles wryly. “You’re missing something.” His finger brushes against the inside of my wrist.

  Retracing my steps, I dig around in my dresser drawer until I find the black leather case that holds his gift. Nic takes it out and carefully clasps it around my wrist, gently pressing a kiss to my skin.

  “We’re going to have problems if you take this off.”

  “Don’t give me a reason to.” I grab his tie, bringing him lower so I can kiss him again.

  He chuckles, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Let’s go then.”

  He takes me to a Cuban restaurant downtown. The interior is decorated in brightly colored building facades, giving the diner the impression of being outside in a courtyard. Live palm trees and functioning streetlights are scattered between the wrought iron tables and chairs. Stained glass and booming salsa music provide an element of escapism from the dreary D.C. winter streets.

  Nic requests a table toward the back of restaurant and sits in the chair that faces the door. He waits for me to order a mojito before telling the waitress to bring two.

  His hand rests on the table, open to me. I lean forward and put my hand in his. “Rough day?”

  “It was.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No,” he smirks, “I want to know why you’re on that side of the table.” I start to pull back, but his grip tightens. “Come here.”

  “You’re so bossy,” I groan before moving into the seat next to him. His hand lands possessively on my leg as he kisses my cheek.

  “You don’t seem to mind,” he whispers in my ear. “In fact, I think you enjoy it.” His lips brush against my neck.

  I close my eyes, trying to get control over the emotions his touch releases. He can so easily undo me. It’s maddening, but I remind myself that two can play his game.

  I run a hand along the back of his neck, lightly scratching his hairline. His eyes slide to me, and he arches a brow.

  “What?” I give him a smug smile, and kiss his skin where his jaw meets his throat. Slowly working my way toward his lips, kiss after kiss. His hand tightens on my leg, and then, he meets my lips with a sense of urgency I wasn’t expecting. He holds me tight, holds me close, kissing me until I’m pretty sure my brain overheats.

  “Wow.” My mouth drops open.

  “Exactly.” He sits back in his chair, looking at me through heated eyes.

  The waitress drops off our drinks just as Nic’s phone rings. It takes him a moment to hear it; we’re so distracted by each other. He reaches into his jacket pocket and silences it in one smooth movement. But it rings again, the sound muted through the fabric.

  “You can get that.” I nudge his side. “It’s fine.”

  “I don’t want to.” He takes a few lengthy sips of his mojito. “Dance with me.”

  I glance at the dance floor. It’s crowded with couples and bathed in red light. The DJ is playing something I wouldn’t even have the slightest clue how to dance to.

  “No,” I shake my head, “I will fall, or trip, or something equally embarrassing.”

  “Come on.” He stands, holding his hand out to me.

  “Nic,” I draw his name out in protest even as I place my hand in his.

  He tucks me into his side as his phone goes off again. He reaches inside his jacket pocket and tosses it onto the table without a second glance.

  “This way, Miss Cooper.” He leads me to the dance floor, spinning me around a few times.

  “You’re ridiculous.” I laugh at him, trying to keep my balance.

  He smirks, pulling me close as the music slows. I rest my head on his chest, and he tightens his hold as we sway back and forth. I almost lose myself in the music, in him. Almost forgetting the world around me still exists, until he stiffens, every muscle going tense.

  “Reagan . . .” He stares at something behind me.

  I turn around, but don’t notice anything unusual.

  “There’s someone I need to talk to.” He hurries me off the floor and back to our table. “Stay here.”

  I lean out of my chair, trying to catch a glimpse of this mystery man, but Nic’s frame blocks the guy. He turns as Nic approaches and they both disappear outside. I look to windows, but they’re shuttered, blocking everything. Damn it.

  I take a sip of my mojito, and notice his phone on the table. My fingers itch to grab it, open it, and find out if it can tell me anything. Tell me his secrets. But I don’t. I keep my hands on the glass until Nic returns.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  “It is.” He grabs the phone and tucks it inside his jacket. “There’s something work related I need to handle. Our night has to end now, unfortunately.”

  “Who was that?”

  “A colleague.” He tosses a couple hundred-dollar bills on the table, and holds his hand out to me, summoning me.

  Outside, I rub my hands together, trying to keep warm while we wait for the valet to bring the Mercedes.

  “I could take a cab, you know,” I tell him.

  “No, It’s fine. I’d rather know you’re home.” Safe. He doesn’t say it, but it’s implied.

  My eyes flick up and down the street, catching on a shadow at the corner of the building. It’s a man, but I can’t see his face. He’s certainly intent on watching us though.

  He brings a cigarette to his lips. The end flares bright red as he inhales, bathing the edges of his face in amber light. Our eyes meet in a disconcerting pause, and a shiver races up my spine, clenching my stomach.

  Nic grabs me, breaking the moment. I turn to see him staring at the same man.

  “A friend of yours?”

  “No,” he frowns, “he’s not.”

  The valet brings the car to the curb and opens the door for me. “Get in, Reagan.” Nic presses a firm hand to my back.

  I glance over my shoulder, trying to find the man again, but he’s gone.

  CHAPTER 27

  Nic

  I take a deep breath before I get into the car with her, needing to calm down. “Sorry about this.”

  “It’s fine,” she utters automatically, still looking over her shoulder.

  I check too, wanting to make sure Saul is gone. He is, and that poses its own set of problems, like him following me. I fling the car into drive and pull a u-turn that earns me a few honks.

  “Are you sure everything is okay?” She grasps at the door handle.

  “Yes.” I weave around slow drivers right and left, trying to get on the freeway before he can.

  She talks about something. I don’t know what though, I’m not really paying attention. I try to nod and agree in the right places, all while raising my speed in small increments.

  Gripping the steering wheel, I try to focus. Why did my father have me followed? I mean, I know things have been tense between us, but even for him this seems extreme. Maybe he doesn’t trust me.

  My eyes skim over the traffic in front of me, and I use the mirrors to check any signs of Saul’s car behind me.

  “Nic!” she gasps.

  I whip my eyes forward just as an old Buick slamming on its brakes in front of us. With a flick of my wrists, I toss the Mercedes into the next lane, accelerating past the stalled car. The Pentagon flashes by as we curve with the freeway. D.C. sprawls outside her window, a straight shot of monuments light up across the river, but it passes in a blur.

  She mumbles something under her breath, and clenches her hands in her lap. My conscience nags at me, forcing me to ease my foot off the pedal slightly. I check the rearview mirror again, but there’s still no sign of him. This seems too easy.

  “You need to tell me what’s going on, right now,” she snaps me back to the present.

&nbs
p; “It’s work. It’s time sensitive, which means I need to get you home, quickly.”

  “You’re lying,” she argues. “I thought we agreed that wouldn’t be happening anymore.”

  “What have I lied about?” I shift in my seat.

  “Oh, I believe you, I’m sure it is work related. But you’re not telling me everything. Omission is basically the same thing.”

  “Perhaps, but I didn’t agree to that. I agreed to tell you the truth, which I have.”

  I pull off the freeway a couple of exits early, wanting to take the back streets to her apartment. It’ll be easier to notice if someone is tailing me.

  “I told you I couldn’t tell you everything,” I remind her. “Just know this is important.”

  Like really damn important. My fingers twitch against the steering wheel. The anger is so intense I’m actually twitching, but there’s something else underneath it. Something more.

  Fear.

  “Nic!” she shouts.

  “What?” I snap, checking the mirrors again. The coast is clear, but his words are there. “Did you think you’d get away with it? Keeping her from us.” I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts as I stop the car in front of her apartment.

  She runs a hand over her forehead, pushing her hair back. “I’m such an idiot. I thought this would be different, I thought you had changed. But, no, it’s the same thing, all over again.”

  “It’s not—”

  “No.” She grabs her purse. “No, I can’t listen to yet another excuse.”

  “Don’t do this. Don’t ignore everything else I’m willing to give you. Don’t focus on that one part of me that you don’t know everything about yet. I am not lying to you. I’m simply choosing to not reveal some things.”

  “Your secrets are starting to outweigh your truths.”

  I sigh heavily. I don’t have time for this. I need to get her out of the car and inside her apartment, and with any luck, still have her talking to me in the morning.

  “We can’t keep ignoring this, Nic. Pretending there isn’t a huge gray area that we never discuss. We’ll keep having this fight, over and over. I won’t be able to let it go, and you’ll keep refusing to tell me what I want to know.”

  “We don’t have to have everything figured out.” I pause, subtly checking behind us in the side view mirror again. “I hate to do this, but I really do have to take care of something. Let me walk you up.”

  “I’m fine from here,” she says, nudging her door open with her heel. “Just go.”

  I get out anyway, following her up the path. “I’ll be by later.”

  “Don’t bother, it’s late.” She keeps her back to me.

  “No, I don’t want to leave it like this.”

  She spins around. “You already are, by leaving.”

  “Give me a couple hours.” I tuck my hands in my pockets, hoping I seem sincere. I’d touch her, but if I do, I know she’ll pick up on how tense I am. And I don’t want her to know.

  Her eyes take me in. I don’t know what she sees, but her expression shifts. It’s no longer openly hostile. It’s something else, something I can’t place.

  “No,” she insists. “We can talk tomorrow.”

  I move closer. “You’ll pick up the phone if I call?”

  “I will.”

  “I still might come by later.”

  “Don’t. I can’t guarantee that I’ll be up, and you need a few hours of sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “Reagan.”

  “Go,” she says softly, “before I change my mind.”

  I give her one last glance before I turn around and jog back to the car. I wait until she’s inside before I drive off.

  It takes me longer to get back to my apartment. I drive down a couple of back alleys and unnecessary detours, wanting to be sure no one’s following me. As soon as I close my apartment door behind me, I call my father.

  “You had Saul follow me,” I shout.

  “Nicola—”

  “No,” I cut him off, “tell me why!”

  A pregnant pause passes between us.

  “I can’t afford to have you distracted,” he eventually says. “Saul seems to think you are. And tonight proves it. I’m looking at a picture of a beautiful woman who very clearly has my son wrapped around her finger.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed. My hand slams into the brick fireplace, holding me up. “It’s not what it looks like.”

  “Then tell me what it is, because I’m reconsidering your place in this family if you can be this easily swayed.”

  “How long was he following me?” I push off the wall and head to the closest bottle of liquor.

  “Does that matter?”

  I don’t even bother with a glass. I force swallow after swallow down my throat, embracing the burn. “I need to know if you unwittingly undermined my only plan.”

  He exhales loudly. “Explain.”

  I take another drink, delaying. “I told you I was working another lead.”

  “Yes.”

  “She works for Cameron.”

  “The chairman?” He sounds surprised. “The congressman in charge of this whole investigation?”

  “Yes. One and the same.” My hand squeezes around the neck of the bottle. “So, anything you think you saw on my face was an attempt to get information out of her.”

  “You’re using her.” Understanding dawns in his voice.

  “I’m trying.” I swallow roughly. “But she isn’t an idiot. She’s suspicious. And noticing random men are following us around doesn’t exactly reassure her that I’m trustworthy. I’m not going to get anything out of her if you scare her off.”

  He says nothing.

  “I told you I was handling this.”

  “You should have told me what you were doing,” he replies.

  “I didn’t want to give you a false lead,” I bite back.

  “Be careful of your tone, my son. I may be your father, but you still work for me.”

  As if he’d let me forget it. “I haven’t forgotten. But when I tell you I’m working on it, I am. No matter what lies Saul spreads in your ear.”

  “She is very pretty. Are you sure it isn’t something more?”

  “No. It isn’t. She’s of use to me, that’s all.”

  “What’s her name?”

  The answer catches in my throat. I could lie. But if he finds out, it’ll chip away at what little trust he has in me. I can’t afford to lose anymore.

  “Reagan Cooper,” I force out.

  “Hmm, how old is she?”

  “Old enough.”

  He laughs. “Are you sleeping with her?”

  The knuckles in my hand turn white as I grip the bottle even harder. “Why would you care if you get what you want from her?”

  “Will I?”

  “I will.” It has to be me. I don’t want him anywhere near her.

  “Who does she think you are?”

  “She thinks I’m a lobbyist for the family business.”

  “Ah,” he gloats, “simple and close enough to the truth, it’s nearly impossible to separate fact from fiction.”

  “You taught me well,” I grind the words out from between clenched teeth.

  “Have you gotten anything out of her so far?”

  “No, Congress is in recess. I’m hoping to get my foot in the door so when they return I’ll have access to any new information. If it works, I’ll know about things even before Arnoldo does.”

  “How did you find out about her?”

  “Cameron’s website can be very informative.”

  “It’s good to know your education wasn’t a waste.”

  Thanks, I think. “Do you need anything else from me, or can I keep doing my job?”

  “Michael is dead.”

  “I told you that would happen.” I set the bottle down.

  “The money is gone.”

  “Did you think Goretti would give it back?”

  “No, between him and Vince, I’
m sure their mistresses are well taken care of.”

  “Goretti’s wife died,” I remind him.

  “Did she? Or did she meet an unfortunate end?”

  Something squeezes at my throat. “She had cancer.”

  “Yes, but it was early stages.”

  “Does Bella know?” Does she know her father killed her mother?

  “Why? Do you plan on sharing this with her?”

  I pause. “No, she was just angrier than I’ve ever seen her.”

  “We stay out of Goretti’s affairs, and they stay out of ours. That was the agreement.”

  “If you want to keep that truce, you probably shouldn’t have made a show out of buying product from his guy.”

  “I think you’re forgetting your position, Nicola. I am the head of this family, not you. I make the decisions.”

  “You had me followed,” I push back. “Forgive me if I’m wondering about your priorities.”

  “Everyone is being watched. Everyone. You aren’t special.” The familiar creak of his leather chair travels through the line. “We have a rat. This congressional investigation is proof that someone out there is talking. I’m simply taking precautions.”

  My hand grips my forehead. I know what he’s really worried about. Someone’s loyalties are shifting. Someone within our organization is talking to the authorities, and that’s how people get killed. It’s how people like me get sent to prison.

  I take a deep breath. “I am loyal to you.”

  He clears his throat. “Perhaps I was too hasty. I’ll pull Saul back. Continue as you want, but I don’t recommend keeping things from me in the future. That’s for your benefit as well as mine.” He disconnects the call.

  I throw the phone, and it hits the wall, shattering into pieces. He’s not sure he can trust me and I need him to. Everything revolves around that. If he doubts my allegiance, for whatever reason, he’ll kill me. Son or not.

  Squatting on the floor, I gather up the pieces of the phone. It’s beyond saving. I pull out the SIM card and drop the rest of the broken plastic into the trash, suddenly regretting my fit of anger. No one can get ahold of me now, including Reagan. I doubt she will though, not after tonight. Hell, I have no memory of what she even said on the way home. I’ll pay for that tomorrow, no doubt.

  I grab the bottle and turn on the gas fireplace as I drop onto the leather couch. I keep drinking until my eyelids grow heavy. The combination of heat and liquor make it hard to stay awake. Maybe I’ll close my eyes for just a second.