by Cindy Skaggs
“No, you weren’t.” Eddie handed her the keys. “They’ve seen you use the kubotan now. They’ll be prepared if anything like this happens again. Remember the Krav Maga moves I taught you?”
She nodded. The Israeli hand-to-hand was equal parts efficient and brutal. She knew the moves much the way she vaguely remembered geometry. It had been years since she’d practiced. The pain in her temple was four-alarm and climbing. She could barely see to ram the key and start the engine. Migraines were the reason she’d turned to hypnosis in the beginning, but no amount of self-hypnosis had helped eliminate the pain over the last few months. The headache was getting worse by the minute, and she wasn’t certain she could get across town to her house. Or if it was safe to do so.
She’d nearly forgotten the intruder and Uncle Manny. The crazy old man had sent her into an explosive meeting with some of the worst criminals since her brother. Why had he done it? Why had he sent her to the club? There were easier ways to kill her, although seeing Blake—the one who got away—came close to hammering the last nail in her coffin. Finding out he was a crook ticked her off. She’d left him on the right path, and he’d mucked it up.
Whatever. Blake was a grown man. He could do what he wanted.
A muscle in her eyelid twitched.
What else had she learned on this dangerous goose chase? That Eddie, the head of personal security for the Calvetti family, was now living and working in Colorado? The unexpectedness of his presence blew her mind. She thought his loyalty a personal thing, but it had been a family thing. A power thing. Maybe just a paycheck thing. “Who are you working for, Eddie?”
He shook his head and closed the car door. She lowered the window and grabbed his arm. While her grip was no longer strong after wielding the kubotan, Eddie didn’t break away. Keeping his gaze downcast, he rubbed her wrist with his free hand. “I’d never hurt you, Miss Vicki. I’d never bring shame on you or your family.”
The hesitation in his voice was unmistakable. “But?”
“No buts.” He shook his head in denial. “I won’t hurt you, but if you come back here, you heard him. The punishment comes out of my hide. So take me into consideration before you return.”
“Are you trying to guilt me?” she asked, voice raised. Guilt was typically her move.
He smiled, roughed her hair in a move so paternal the words stuck in her throat. “Just stay out of it, Little Miss, for all our sakes.”
Little Miss? She’d forgotten his pet name. The only one she’d had in a childhood devoid of normal. Eddie stepped across the street and into the club before she regained her composure. Eddie had been with the Calvetti family since she’d been born. Longer even, but a man had to eat, and any job security Eddie had had, died with her brother.
Last summer, she’d freed herself and her best friend from all mob ties. She was pragmatic. She didn’t feel a lick of guilt for the tactics she’d employed and the people she’d manipulated. The ends justified the means. She’d freed Sofia, because it was Vicki’s fault Sofia had fallen into Nick’s twisted hands in the first place. In the process, she had even managed to get Vince—her occasional boyfriend—into a non-extradition country so he wouldn’t face trial for his participation in the scheme. She’d been proud of her planning, of the control she exerted in a chaotic world, but she hadn’t thought big enough. There were others involved in the family business, and they weren’t safe.
Starbursts exploded behind her eyes in the mother of all migraines as the truth hit her.
The end of the Calvetti dynasty created a vacuum. Who or what filled the void?
…
“Want to tell me how you know Manhattan’s most wanted?” Dez asked.
Not particularly. Dez and Blake met in the back hall while Mick restrained Wayne downstairs. “She’s not on anyone’s wanted list, and you know it.”
“She’s not an innocent bystander,” Mick said, jogging up the stairs. “You could have left her to the natural consequences of her dumbass actions.”
“That’s not how we work.” Blake glared.
Dez shared a saucy look with Mick. “I’m okay with it. You?”
“I’d sleep at night.”
He couldn’t believe what his friends were saying. “Fuck that.” Now he’d devolved into the language of a lowlife street hood, but the adrenaline hadn’t cleared his system. He was agitated and ready for a fight, and his friends were apparently ready to let Victoria swing. He bunched his hands into fists. He didn’t mind using Wayne as a punching bag, but he wasn’t looking forward to hitting his best friend.
“Something you want to share with the rest of the class?” Mick asked Blake.
Blake shoved Mick into the nearest wall. “There are limits, damn normal limits to how far I’m willing to go to take Sully down. The day we watch men beat a woman is the day I quit.”
Mick shrugged. “Wayne seemed all right.”
“For an ex-con,” Dez muttered. “I think he was just looking for a good time.”
Blake spun to face Dez. He couldn’t hit her, but the need to hit something amped up the tension bunching his shoulders. The aches from his earlier fight didn’t deter him from wanting to mix it up here and now. “Wayne’s idea of a good time is torture. The man has a history. There is something very wrong with you two. You know what would have happened if I hadn’t intervened and—”
Mick laughed, his big voice booming down the stairwell. Dez’s soft laughter joined, echoing against the cement.
“And you’re fucking with me. Asshole.” Blake tucked Dez under his arm. “You, too.”
“I’m an asshole?” She looked at Mick. “Did he just call me an asshole?”
“Want me to take him out?” Mick offered.
Dez shook her head, sending her dark hair bouncing on her shoulders. Her red dress fairly glowed in the dark hallway where they whispered. “That little surprise took a year off my life.”
Blake rubbed his chest. “Damn near gave me a heart attack.”
Mick grinned like an idiot. “Did you see the way our boy flexed for her? Like watching a wildlife film. Mating rituals of the—”
“Shut up.” Blake shoulder-checked Mick, but not as hard as he wanted to. He let the teasing wash away his agitation. “We need to get back, save what we can of this clusterfuck.”
Dez grabbed Blake when he would have returned to the bar. “We need to debrief.” Her blue eyes lit with ferocious intensity. “What just happened could have gotten us killed. I don’t mind dying, but not without a good cause. No secrets. We need to know, factor it into the plan.”
Blake nodded, but his gut tightened. Victoria wasn’t someone he talked about with anyone. Not even Mick. Definitely not Dez. “Finish this first,” he said, gesturing toward the club. “Before they drink all my booze.”
If they survived, he’d have time to figure out what to do about Victoria. And what to tell his friends.
…
Vicki’s brain throbbed, and she couldn’t think through the pain. Fog blanketed her vision as she hit the call button on the security gate. They might not let her through. Another cheery thought, but after a moment’s hesitation, the gate swung open and she cruised the neighborhood like a little old lady driving after dark.
Even in this much pain, she knew she had no right to show up out of the blue, but the gated community would help her ride out the migraine in relative security. The house belonged to her former sister-in-law, college roommate, and onetime best friend. Their friendship had cooled after last year when Sofia’s son—Vicki’s nephew—had been kidnapped. While Eli was now home safe, and Sofia was living the kind of life she’d never thought to have—with an FBI agent no less—she still hadn’t fully warmed back up to Vicki. Trust was an issue, but Sofia was the best friend she’d ever had, and the only one who knew about her family connections. Like it or not, she needed to crash at Sofia’s until the nuclear fusion in her brain cooled.
They hadn’t spoken much since the events of last summer, but Sof
ia’s was the only safe house she knew. Sofia came out with a smile on her lips and Eli on her hip. She dropped both when she caught sight of Vicki. Sofia bent to Eli. “Get Logan.”
Eli raced up the front steps like a whirlwind and skidded on the wood in the entryway.
Sofia moved to the driver’s side and propped open the door. “Migraine? How bad?” she asked without waiting for an answer to the first question.
“Eight point nine on the Richter scale.”
“Meds?”
Thank God for old friends. If she’d had to explain what was wrong, she’d never make it. “In my bag.” She pointed to the passenger seat. God, she hoped the pills were in her bag. She couldn’t send Sofia to deal with the intruder and Uncle Manny.
Sofia walked to the other side, stopping at the front of the car to have a quick conversation with Logan. Vicki was too out of it to overhear the conversation, which bent her out of shape. She hated missing out. She hadn’t seen Logan face-to-face since the kidnapping, and no matter what Sofia said, the man wasn’t likely to forgive and forget all the trouble Vicki had caused, even though her intentions had been honorable. Still, she’d faced worse than a pissed-off Fed.
Logan came around looking all manly in dress pants and a white button-down. His outfit could have walked off the pages of GQ magazine. She felt like the bottom of a garbage can. “Well,” he said with a smile. “If it isn’t the mob princess.”
She attempted a smile. “Well if it isn’t Logan No-Name.” She’d called him that from the moment they met, after Eli’s kidnapping, when Sofia had come to her for help.
Logan lifted her from the driver’s seat, keeping his movement slow and controlled.
“Into the guest bedroom,” Sofia ordered, carrying Vicki’s oversize bag.
“No.” Vicki nearly lurched out of Logan’s arms. If anything followed her here, she didn’t want it to land on Sofia. By staying in the garage apartment, she would isolate them from trouble. “The apartment.”
Sofia glanced up at the garage apartment Vince had once occupied. “I’d feel better if I could keep a close eye on you.”
Vicki shook her head, and nausea rolled through her gut. She ground her teeth. “Too much noise. Too much light. The apartment has blackout shades.”
Sofia’s brown eyes filled with worry. “Fine, but once the worst of it passes, I want you in the house.”
Vicki didn’t bother to argue. She had no intention of staying—endangering Sofia and Eli—once she was well enough to step out on her own two feet. They walked around the outside of the garage to the back door, and then up the stairs to the apartment. Logan’s movements were slow as if he understood the extreme pain jolting through her with each bump.
“Hey, handsome, are you trying to sweep me off my feet?” Teasing was the only way she knew how to handle Logan. He had every right to hate her. He certainly disapproved of her.
“If I thought it would work, I would have tried months ago,” he teased right back.
She rested her head on his broad shoulder. “If she weren’t my best friend, I’d let you.”
Logan carried her over the threshold to Vince’s former apartment. As he set her down, she smiled, thankful she’d stayed awake and aware until she’d made it to safety. With one last glance at Logan to say thank you, she threw up all over his beautiful red tie.
“Still trying for charming, I see.”
It was the last thing she remembered.
Chapter Four
Vicki’s dreams morphed Blake into her life, nursing her to health as he had when her mother died. In her agony, she let the fantasy continue, too weak to banish him as she did every other day of her life. In the time when she had known him, she’d never asked anything of him, but he’d done for her anyway. The only person she’d ever let get too close. She drifted, wondering vaguely if their lives would have turned out differently if…
If.
She asked him, but dream Blake didn’t answer. He placed a cool cloth on her head, forced a pill down her throat, and then held her until she drifted into a drug-induced slumber that left her wanting Blake, the boy she’d fallen for at nineteen, young enough to believe distance from her family made her safe. Wrong. She’d given him up as an act of penance, like counting the beads on a rosary. Isolation from anyone and everyone protected those she loved.
When she woke again, she was alone in Vince’s old bed, but her former boyfriend wasn’t the man on her mind. The bed smelled of Blake, a mellow, masculine scent that invaded her fevered imagination. She hadn’t let herself remember, but seeing him had brought the memories front and center. She called herself an idiot as she swished the smell away like a wisp of smoke.
In a hurry to escape the memories, she rinsed off in a cool shower and dressed in the jeans Sofia had laid out for her along with a note.
Had a meeting at a gallery. Job interview. Finally getting my life on track, thanks to you. I’ll be home in a couple hours. Help yourself to something from the kitchen.
Wait for me.
xoxo
Sofia
Wait around? Not a chance. The longer she stayed, the more she endangered Sofia and Eli, the two people she loved more than her own safety. Sofia would be hurt, and the guilt tugged at Vicki as she finished dressing, but an emotional hurt would fade. The trouble following her was too dangerous for her former sister-in-law, who had survived her own traumas. She deserved whatever happiness she had with Logan, and that meant Vicki had to leave. She grabbed the pen off the counter and added a line at the bottom of Sofia’s note.
Had to go feed the cat.
She had no idea how long Sofia had been gone, but decided to risk a trip into the house. She needed some herbal tea and toast before heading back to her messed-up life.
The back door to the main house was unlocked, which showed some pretty major progress in Sofia’s recovery. Vicki entered the mudroom and tripped over Eli’s backpack. She picked it up and hung it on a large hook next to her oversize handbag. Familiar with the house, she put the teakettle on to boil and found the tea bags. A stack of dishes sat in the sink, and the table was loaded with coloring books and toys. She smiled. The house now felt like a home. She wandered into the living room and saw it clean but cluttered with toys that Sofia had once restricted to Eli’s room. From the looks of the house, Sofia no longer tried for perfection.
As she moved around the living room, picking up Eli’s mess and tossing it in a toy box, she heard Eli giggling upstairs. The low tones of a male voice answered Eli’s laughter.
Certain Sofia’s car wasn’t in the garage, Vicki figured it was Logan and headed up the central staircase. If she explained to him why she couldn’t stay, she wouldn’t have to make excuses to Sofia. Logan wouldn’t care if she left. The by-the-book FBI agent didn’t much care for her family connections. Somehow, she felt safer in the confrontational relationship with Logan than she did with Sofia. Pasting a smile on her face, she stepped into a room cluttered with stuffed animals and a little boy growling on the floor. Next to him, with his back to the door, was a man who wasn’t Logan Stone, FBI agent extraordinaire.
It was a man with sinfully sexy hair, soulful eyes, and just enough scruff to look rough around the edges. Untamed, the way she’d left him. She thought never to see him again.
Of all that was holy, how bad could one week get?
Thoughts spun through her head too fast to grab. She clenched a fist to her side. “Blake?”
He turned, pierced her heart with his nearly translucent green gaze. “Hello, darlin’.”
That’s all he had to say after yesterday? Was it yesterday? She didn’t know how long she’d been out. She turned, but before she made it to the door, Eli jumped up and clung to her leg. “Auntie Vicki!”
She combed her fingers through the boy’s dark curls. They were thick and soft, longer than the last time she’d seen him. Emotion clogged her throat. Children weren’t in her future. Eli had nearly died because he was a Calvetti. Vicki wouldn’t bring
another child into their crazy world, but she had thought of children once, when she’d been naive enough to think she could escape her family. The mere thought of it sent her gaze to Blake, who rose slowly to his feet. His presence filled the room, sent her pulse higher. She forced her gaze back to Eli.
The Calvetti family dynamic was too dysfunctional to bring an innocent child into, so she channeled her love into her only nephew, the son of her now-dead brother and her best friend. Eli was a true innocent, and with her brother the mob boss out of the picture, the boy would stay innocent. He’d never know the fear and intrigue of the Calvetti way of life. According to the counselors, he’d probably never remember his biological father, which she considered a blessing. Nick had been a psychopath of epic proportions.
“Hello, angel.” She hoisted the boy to her hip and wrapped him in a giant hug. It took more muscle to hold him now. He’d grown in the last few months, looking more like a little boy than the baby she wanted to call him. “I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you.” He looked up at her with those big brown eyes and silky lashes that guaranteed he’d get anything within her power to give. He shoved a plastic toy in her face. “Look what Bake gave me.”
“Awesome.” Vicki picked up the T. rex, turning it over as if rapt. “How do you know Bake?” Over Eli’s shoulder, she glared at the offender.
Eli shrugged, took back his toy. “Logan.”
The implications seized in her chest and sent her pulse racing with something deeper than fear. The connection between Logan—an FBI agent—and a man running drugs from a bar short-circuited her still-muddy thoughts. Maybe she wasn’t over the migraine. Even if she was, she needed time to process, because when she’d left the bar, she’d been angry that he’d joined the mob. His presence in Sofia’s house made things worse than Vicki had originally feared. The man obviously had a death wish, and here he was playing dinosaurs with her nephew. She set Eli to the soft beige carpet, never taking her eyes off Blake.