by Mia Madison
When he spoons with me at night, it just means he’s affectionate and tactile. When his lovemaking turns gentle and he stares into my eyes, when he comes with his face buried in my neck, groaning my name, it proves he’s an attentive lover. When he rubs noses with me, or keeps his truck and his house too warm for his comfort for my sake, or buys me a little stuffed panther after I mention they’re my favorite big cat, it tells me he’s a good guy.
One who is not, in any way, in love with me.
I’m doing my best to be a good fuck buddy in return. Lando won’t get any leading questions from me, like whether he’s had any thoughts about settling down, or what his plans are for the future. I keep my focus on the amazing sex, the good conversation, and the easy company, and when those mushy feelings threaten to erupt, I shove them away as fast as I can.
Last night he had to do a stakeout — another effort to catch the drug dealer he’s after. I spent the night in my room in Carlotta’s house, all alone. It should have been the perfect opportunity to catch up on sleep.
Except I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned, and felt terribly lonely and unaccountably weepy. It was ridiculous. Now here we are in his truck, and I’m determined to keep it together and not let him get to me.
“Where are we headed?” I ask when he doesn’t head for the police station or make the turn toward his house.
“Tonio and Cait invited us over for dinner.”
“Oh. Okay, cool.”
Why did they do that? Do they think we’re a couple? Did Lando say something to them?
For fuck’s sake, Bree, stop it. It’s no big deal. “So the goodie bag is our contribution to the meal?”
“Yeah.” He glances at me. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not. Why would I mind?”
“I know how you like expanding the waistlines of the local police force.”
I scoff. “I only did that so I could flirt with you.”
“Oh, is that why.”
He’s grinning. I jab him in the arm. “Wiseass.”
“I am very wise about asses. For instance, I know that yours is fantastic.”
He can still make me blush at odd moments. “Well, thank you, sir. I am also a connoisseur of prime posteriors, and can testify that yours is superlative.”
We’ve been following a winding road up into the foothills, past what I can only call estates — grand houses, when I can see them at all, on huge lots. Lando pulls up to a wrought-iron gate across a driveway, and it swings silently open. The driveway forks past the gate, and he takes the right-hand fork, which curves around and ends in front of a beautiful house.
It’s not as grand as some of the others, though it’s not small. All wood and glass, it’s surrounded by majestic trees, as if they’d all grown up together and the house were not a manmade structure at all.
“That’s gorgeous.”
Lando slings an arm around my shoulders as we walk to the front door. “Yeah, Tonio has good taste. One reason his developments always do well.”
“Did he design it himself?”
“He did. An architect drew up the blueprints, but the ideas are all his.”
A beaming Cait opens the door. “Hi there. So glad you could make it; come on in.”
Lando hands her the goodie bag. “Dessert from Callahan’s.”
“Score! Come this way.” She takes the bag and leads us past the dividing wall that separates the foyer from —
“Surprise!” The enormous living room is full of people: my sisters, and a few gazillion Adamos.
Lando smiles at me. “Happy birthday, Red.”
“You brat!” I half-punch, half-hug him. “You never said a word all day!”
“That would have spoiled the surprise.” And then he kisses me, right there in front of his whole family, a kiss that is in no way chaste or platonic and involves quite a lot of tongue. “I’ll make it up to you.”
The way he’s looking at me makes me feel all squishy inside, and I’m far too aware of all the Adamos watching us. “Okay then,” I say, and pull back a little as I cut my eyes to Jade. “So, all that ice cream you had Quinn make today …”
She laughs. “I told her we had a client who wanted a bunch of flavors for a big party. I just didn’t mention Rome was the client.”
“Sneaky, sis.”
Jade pulls me into a hug. “Happy birthday again, Brianna. I love you more than words can say.”
I hug her hard. We already exchanged birthday wishes at the bakery, but I love that she put this together for me and Quinn. “I love you too.” She lets me go, and then I’m surrounded by well-wishers. I try not to look at Lando too much.
There’s food everywhere. Someone presses a drink into my hand, and I don’t even ask what’s in it. There are plenty of kids here along with all the grownups, so the punch probably isn’t spiked, so to speak.
I find myself next to Gina, Carlo’s wife. “I’m a little surprised at the turnout,” I say to her in an undertone. “I’ve never met most of these people. I guess Adamos like to party.”
Gina smiles. “It’s your invasion, hon.”
“My what?”
“Remember that night when all those Adamos turned up at your farmhouse?”
I frown. “Romero said it was their way of being supportive.”
“Well, it was. But it was also their way of checking out Rome’s new girl.” I feel myself pale. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re not …” I look around to make sure no one can hear us, and lower my voice even more. “We’re just friends with benefits. That’s all.”
“Okay,” she says, like she doesn’t quite believe me.
“They’re not gonna start buying us toasters, are they?” The look on her face is putting knots in my stomach. “Oh, geez.”
“Look, it’s fine. This doesn’t come with any obligations. It’s just a tradition.”
“What aren’t you saying?”
Gina shakes her head. “If I told you, it might freak you out.”
“Well, now I’m going to freak out wondering what you’re not telling me.”
She studies me for a moment. “It’s just, they don’t automatically invade whenever two people are dating or whatever.” Her shoulder hitches up in a half-shrug. “They’ve never actually done an invasion for a couple who didn’t end up together.”
The knots tighten. “Well, we’re not a couple. So they’ve got it wrong already.”
“Okay. Like I said, it’s no big deal. No one’s going to whip out a marriage license and make you sign it.” Gina pats my arm and smiles gently. “Try to enjoy the party.”
“Right. Sorry. Didn’t mean to overreact.”
“No worries; the Adamos can be pretty overwhelming. I’ll catch you later.” She moves off, and I try not to hyperventilate.
Just a tradition. No obligation.
So why do I feel like I’m defrauding the smiling people all around me?
Lando’s arm circles my waist and his lips graze my shoulder. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” I try to sound casual, like I’m not aware of his family’s possibly momentous intentions for us. “Quite a spread.”
“You okay?”
Damn. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
He turns me to face him, eyes narrowed. “You’re all keyed up. Like you’re about to audition for The Voice or something.”
The man is far too perceptive. I search for a half-truth to divert him. “I couldn’t sleep last night.”
It works; his face softens. “You miss me?”
“Uh-huh.” I wrap my arms around his waist and lean in. “Do you have another stakeout tonight?”
“Nope.”
He doesn’t look happy. “Uh-oh. Last night’s didn’t go well?”
“Another dead end. Sometimes I feel like the bastard’s dancing circles around us.”
I hesitate. “Lando …” My voice trails off.
“What?”
“I may be way off base with th
is. But is it possible he’s got an informant?”
His face darkens. “Someone on the force, you mean. It’s crossed my mind. I don’t want to believe it, but I checked around, discreetly, and no one on the squad shows signs of being on the take.”
“That’s a relief. It’s an awful thought, I know.”
“Yeah. You’ve got to be able to trust people to work with them.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, you’re right, Red. In order to eliminate the possibility, I had to take a look. Right now, though …” He takes my hand. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Another one?” I follow him back through the living room, past the foyer, the dining room, and then kitchen, and into the family room. My mouth falls open.
“Oh my god!” The room’s set up for a band, with a drum set, microphones, guitars, a bass, and speakers. And standing by the equipment are my fellow band members from high school.
“Hey girl!” Tina says. “Long time no gig!”
After a round of hugs with all of them, I turn to Lando, stunned. “How on earth …”
“Your sisters helped me track down the band.”
Now that I’m over the initial shock, I take a closer look at the gear. “This all looks brand new.”
“It is,” Lando says. “Part of your birthday present.”
“Part of it?” I stare at him. “What the hell, Lando. You got a custom cake for your birthday.”
His eyes twinkle. “You can make it up to me next year.”
Next year? I’m feeling faintly dizzy. Since when does the world’s best fuck buddy talk like that?
10
Help Me
Bree and the band are tuning up when my work phone vibrates. The text, from an unknown number, says Back yard.
The skin at the back of my neck prickles. I ease back through the crowd gathering in the family room and slip outside. There’s no sign of anyone in the back, but I wait, in the shadows myself.
I’m listening as intently as I can, but I still don’t hear him until he speaks from just a few feet away. “Santiago’s got you in his sights.”
“Matteo.” My cousin, like a brother growing up, who dropped out of sight two years ago. Besides his twin brother Brando, I’m probably the only person in the whole family who has a damn good idea what he’s been up to.
He’s all but invisible in the darkness, only his outline faintly detectable. “What bug is up Santiago’s ass now?” I ask.
“The Adamos interfered with his takeover of the Callahan farm. He doesn’t forgive or forget.”
“We didn’t torch the place.”
“Doesn’t matter. You interviewed his lawyer, put law enforcement eyes on something he wanted to keep under the radar. The Adamos are officially his enemy number one.”
In the house, the band starts to play. I mutter a few choice curses. “Not a surprise, given that the man’s batshit crazy. Is there a particular reason you’re telling me this now?”
“You’re his first target. He hates cops almost as much as he hates Adamos.”
“Lucky me. Any idea what he has planned?”
“He’s going after your woman.”
Incandescent rage flares in an instant. “Fuck that. I will hunt him down and separate his head from his body with a rusty saw.”
“No, you won’t. Remember which side you’re on.”
“Fuck you. Where do you, of all people, get off telling me that?”
“Trust me, Lando. You don’t want that mark on your soul.”
His voice holds the chill of the grave, and for half a second I entertain the wild thought that my cousin is a ghost, come from the afterlife to warn the living. Then a twig snaps on my other side, and Quinn joins us.
She’s looking right at my cousin. It’s as if, after that first encounter they had at the farmhouse, her radar’s tuned to him. Matteo doesn’t speak, but the energy pouring off of him is that of a man who’s burning up for one particular woman. I know the feeling well; but in his case, it seems closer to the torment of hell than the heat of passion.
“Quinn,” I say. “What are you doing out here?”
“I knew you wouldn’t miss Bree’s jam session if it wasn’t something important.” She looks back at Matteo. “What’s your name?”
“Woman.” It comes out a furious, almost subhuman growl. “Stay away from me.”
Quinn smiles sweetly. “I’m not very good at doing what I’m told.”
Entertaining as this is, I have other priorities. Before Matteo can explode, I ask him, “Specifics? Timeline?”
“He’ll decide the details at the last moment and notify only the principals. Based on his past methodology, he’ll want to take her. Keep her. Torture you with the knowledge of what he’s doing to her.”
“Who?” Quinn says sharply. “Is he talking about Bree?”
“Quinn,” I say through gritted teeth, “get inside.” She glares at me, then at Matteo, then whirls on her heel and goes back to the house.
Despite Matteo’s earlier warning, I want to find Santiago and tear him limb from limb with my bare hands, and it does not feel at all like something that will scar my soul. “This can’t go on, Teo. We need to end him.”
I sense his attention shift back to me. He must have been staring at the house, where Quinn is now. “Brando called me that, a few months ago,” he says. “Hadn’t heard that name in a long time.”
I’m not sure why I used it, his old nickname. The man he’s become, with his scarred face and haunted voice, seems more than a lifetime removed from the boy I grew up with. “Remember that time we were out riding our bikes, the four of us” — me, Romero, Matteo, and Brando — “and we found that bird with its wing broken? You took it home, nursed it back to health.”
His voice is like gravel. “I’m not that boy anymore.”
“None of us are the boys we were. But they still live inside us. Even you,” I say before he can contradict me.
“I appreciate the effort, cousin. But it’s too late for me.”
“Fuck that.” A different kind of fury fuels me, and I get right in his face. “You will never not be part of this family.”
He’s silent for a moment. “I have to go. Keep your woman safe.” His gaze moves to the house. “Keep them all safe.”
He melts away from me and is gone. Matteo might not be a ghost, but he fucking well knows how to imitate one.
I head for the house to find Romero; my phone vibrates. The readout says it’s Jeeter.
Suppressing a twinge of impatience, I answer it. “Hey, Jeeter. What’s up?”
“Help me.” The terrified whimper chills my blood.
And then he screams.
11
Already Warm
It’s been great jamming with my old band, but I haven’t been able to fully enjoy it since Lando’s disappearance. Part of my brain is wondering what he’s up to and if everything’s okay. We’re just finishing up a song when a ripple moves through the crowd and I see Lando pushing through.
He grabs Romero and they huddle together, throwing occasional glances my way. I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Rome goes over to Carlo, and Lando comes to me.
“Jeeter’s in trouble. I’ve got to go.”
“Fuck, Lando.” After our earlier discussion, my mind can conjure all sorts of awful possibilities. “Be careful.”
“I’m going to be very careful. I’m bringing backup. I need you to stay here and stay safe, so I’m not worried about you.”
I nod. “I will. I promise.”
He gives me a quick, hard kiss. “I’ll see you soon.”
Carlo’s on his phone. I know from our problems with Santiago and the farm that he’s an ex-military guy who has his own team of commando types now. Despite my worry, it’s fascinating to see how different he looks when he’s in work mode. It’s as if the civilized veneer has dropped away, and he’s all dark danger.
I bet Gina finds that r
eally hot.
There’s a blur of activity around me now, everyone packing up to leave. Then Lando says something to Tonio, who says something to one of the other men, and within seconds they’ve all settled in again. A chill runs down my spine. What exactly are we dealing with, that they want everyone to stay here instead of going home?
Then Tonio comes over to me, his face grim. “Lando tells me you’re a good shot.”
Holy shit. I answer him with the same seriousness. “Yes. I am.”
“You know how to use a rifle?”
Oh fuck fuck fuck. “I do.”
“There’s a chance — remote, but not nonexistent — that some bad guys could turn up here. If they do, we might need you.”
My heart is pounding. “I understand.”
He turns to the band, who are huddled a few feet away. “Are you okay with hanging here for a little while?” They nod, faces pale. They’ve got even less of an idea what’s happening than I do, but maybe they caught part of my conversation with Tonio.
“If you feel like playing some more, that’d be good. Help keep everyone distracted.”
“Did you bring any acoustic guitars?” I ask them.
“Yeah,” Tina says. “We’ve got a lot more stuff out in our cars, that we brought just in case.”
I look at Tonio. “Can they get an escort out to their cars?”
“Yeah. I’ll set that up.”
When he’s gone, the band huddles around me. “Bree,” Tina whispers, “what the fuck is going on?”
“I’m not sure, exactly.” There’s a crazed criminal causing trouble is not a conversation we really need to have. “We’re just being extra cautious for now.”
When the band gets back with their instruments, we start an acoustic set. Most of the men have left now, but some new guys I don’t recognize have arrived. They must be private security for Tonio, because they confer with him and then disperse.
Food is not a problem; there’s enough to feed two armies. Children fuss and are soothed; people drift in and out of the room, occasionally bringing back plates of food to graze on. No one’s saying much.