Fire with Fire (New York Syndicate Book 1)

by Michelle St. James

  “What about the police?” she asked.

  “We have quite a few on our payroll,” Damian said. “I imagine Primo does as well. We can’t hold them off forever, but a few well-placed bribes mean they’re willing to look the other way until the heat from above gets too hot to handle.”

  “What will happen to Primo when it’s over?” she asked.

  He hesitated. “I don’t know. It depends on how he handles it at the end.”

  “The end?”

  “Primo’s organization will fall,” Damian said. “That’s a forgone conclusion. The only thing left to determine is how many resources I’ll have to call in to end it quickly. If it were just me, it might take longer, but with the backing of the Syndicate, I don’t expect it to last long.”

  “Will you kill him?” she asked.

  “Not if you don’t want me to.”

  It was the first admission he’d made that she had sway over him. She didn’t know what to make of it. Wasn’t ready to further define her power and its limitations.

  “What about me?”

  “First you get rid of your cell phone,” he said.

  “Already done.”

  He reached into his pocket, handed her a phone. She recognized it as a burner phone that couldn’t be traced.

  “Call Primo,” he said. “Tell him you’re safe and leaving the country, that he shouldn’t bother looking for you. You won’t be back until this is over.”

  She laughed a little, tucked her legs up under her. “I’m not leaving the country.”

  He met her gaze, his voice steely. “Yes, you are.”

  She stood, walked to the edge of the terrace, crossed her arms over her body. “Fucking me doesn’t give you authority over me.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth when he spun her around to face him, his hands firmly on her shoulders. “No, but the way I feel about you does. The city is on fire right now, Aria, and this isn’t far enough away for me to guarantee your safety.”

  Her mind skipped over the first part of his sentence. She didn’t know what it meant, didn’t have the clarity of thought to figure it out, let alone to decipher the way she felt about him in return.

  “I’ve never asked you to guarantee my safety.”

  “Maybe not, but we’re in this together now.” He rubbed a hand over his face, and she saw suddenly how tired he was, wondered if he’d slept at all the night before. “And god help me, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  She reached up, touched his face. “What are we doing, Damian?”

  He shook his head, took her face in his hands. “I don’t know, but tell me you don’t feel it too.”

  She met his eyes, tried to summon the words.

  I don’t feel it. It was just sex. Nothing more.

  She couldn’t. It was a lie.

  She was still trying to figure out how it was possible to have feelings for a man she’d only met days earlier, a man who was the sworn enemy of her brother, who should therefore be her enemy as well. But with all the things she didn’t know, there was something she did.

  There was something between them.

  She didn’t know what it was or where it would lead, but it was there.

  “I feel it too,” she finally said. “I can’t explain it, but I do.” She wondered if she was imagining the relief in his eyes.

  “If you go back, there will be hell to pay. That’s if you can find Primo at all. My men haven’t even been able to find him yet, and there are hits out on every location you might try — the club, the apartment, all of it. It’s not safe for you anywhere near the city.”

  She thought she should feel some sense of loss at the thought of the apartment, the club she’d decorated so lovingly, being torn apart by Damian’s men. Instead she felt absolutely nothing. It belonged to another person.

  Another life.

  She held out her hand. “Give me the phone.”

  He handed it to her. “Keep it short. No details.”

  She looked at the display for a few seconds before dialing. She was beginning to wonder if Primo would pick up on his private line — the burner phone would be an unknown number — when she heard his voice.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s me.”

  “Ari?” There was a lift of hope in his voice that broke her heart. It wouldn’t last long. “Is that you?”

  “It’s me,” she said. “I’m calling to tell you that I’m okay, but I’m leaving town… leaving the country for awhile.”

  “What are you talking about?” A cold edge had crept into his voice. “You’re being ridiculous. We had a fight, that’s all. Tell me where you are and I’ll send someone for you.”

  “I can’t do that, Primo. Not this time.” She drew in a breath, turned away from Damian like not looking at him would somehow make it less of a betrayal to Primo. “Do what you have to do, but leave me out of it.”

  “Are you with him right now?” His voice was dangerously low. It was the way he talked when he was on the verge of losing control. When he was barely holding it together. “Is that why you’re doing this? Because you let him fuck you like a whore?”

  “This is between you and me, Primo. It’s always been between you and me. Just let me go.”

  “We’re family,” he yelled into the phone. “We don’t let each other go. Not now or ever.”

  It was the one thing he could have said that made her second-guess her decision. Because he was right: they were family. They’d lost everything together. Had rebuilt it together too. They’d saved each other a hundred times.

  And now she was leaving him when he was under siege.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find Damian looking at her. The concern in his eyes was completely unfamiliar to her. How long had it been since she’d seen anything but anger or fear in Primo’s eyes? Since he’d cared about something besides impressing Malcolm or making more money or improving his standing among the men?

  “That’s not your decision to make,” she said into the phone. “I’ll be in touch.”

  She hung up and gave Damian the phone. He took it from her shaking hand and pulled her into his arms. She stood stiff against him for a moment before relaxing into him. It felt good to let go.

  Strange, but good.

  His arms were big and powerful, the kind of arms that could block out the world. She lay her head on his chest, breathed in the scent of him as he touched his lips to her hair.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know this can’t be easy.”

  “I shouldn’t care,” she said. “Not after everything that’s happened.”

  He pulled back a little, touched her face with his knuckles. “If it’s one thing I understand, it’s the complexity of family. He’s your brother. It’s understandable that you’d care. But right now you have to take care of you. I’d like to help if you’ll let me.”

  It was a dangerously attractive offer. Let go. Let someone else take care of her. Let someone else keep making the decisions. Let herself be carried along by the decisions of others. It’s what she’d been doing since her parents died, long past the age when she should have willingly given up her agency to Primo.

  She wasn’t a child anymore. At some point she would have to start making her own decisions, but right now there were precious few open to her. Damian was right; she had to take care of herself, and the best way she could do that was to remove herself from the war between him and Primo. Go someplace where she could regroup and figure out what was next.

  And then there was him.

  Damian.

  There was something between them. She wanted to know what it was, what it meant, where it would lead.

  She owed herself that much, didn’t she?

  She looked up at him. “What do we do now?”

  24

  Damian spent most of the flight on the phone with Cole, keeping tabs on the deteriorating conditions in the city. Primo’s men were putting up a fight despite the fact that they were
outmanned and outgunned, but Cole reported that they were slowly bringing things under control and beginning to expand their reach in the surrounding areas.

  He’d urged Aria to take advantage of the sleeping cabin on the plane and was relieved when she agreed shortly after takeoff. The conversation with Primo had taken a toll on her and the smudges under her eyes had darkened in the time it had taken them to get to the airport and board the plane. He wanted to wipe away the sadness in her eyes, smooth the worry on her brow. The impulse was unfamiliar and not entirely welcome. He felt strangely exposed, like he was stumbling naked in the snow and it was only a matter of time before he fell and froze to death.

  The steward came back and told him they would be landing, and Damian stood to get Aria. He was glad he still had access to the fleet of private planes kept by Cavallo Financial. It would be harder for Primo to separate the flight plans of this plane from the others used by executives on a regular basis, and it offered a comfortable overseas flight.

  He knocked lightly on the rear cabin door, then opened it. She was asleep on her side, her dark hair fanned out on the pillow around her head, a lock falling over her forehead. Her face looked innocent in repose, almost childlike, and he entered quietly, sat on the edge of the bed carefully in an effort to keep from startling her.

  He’d been stealing glances at her whenever he could, endlessly fascinated with her beauty, but now he had a chance to really look and he felt a tug of emotion deep inside him. It was more than the appeal of her features. It was a kind of familiarity he’d never experienced with anyone. Like they’d met once long ago and he’d been looking for her ever since without realizing it.

  Like she was the remnant of a beautiful dream.

  He reached out, brushed the piece of hair back from her forehead. “Aria…”

  Her eyelashes fluttered in the moment before she opened her eyes. He thought she might be startled or confused. He wouldn’t blame her. They’d been on the move ever since she’d come to his apartment in the city.

  But she seemed perfectly at ease, her eyes meeting his, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth. She reached for his hand, still near her face, and kissed it. It was a surprisingly tender gesture, and his throat constricted around a swell of emotion.

  How long had it been since someone had touched him like that?

  “Hello,” she said softly.

  “Hi.” He bent down to kiss her forehead. “We’re going to land soon. You should come buckle in.”

  She sat up and stretched, and his eyes were pulled to the long line of her torso, the perfect jut of her breasts. It had only been twenty-four hours since he’d been inside her and the impulse to take her again was already overpowering. It was more than lust — although there was plenty of that. It was a primal kind of possession that made him want to write MINE on her body.

  How very enlightened of him.

  He stood, forcing his thoughts away from the idea of taking her on the bed before they landed. She took his hand and they made their way back into the main cabin where they got settled for landing.

  He watched her face as they came in over the city below, the ocean stretched out on either side.

  “So this is Naples,” she said.

  He nodded. She wasn’t about to board a plane with no idea where they were going. “Not our final stop though.”

  She glanced over at him with a scolding smile. “You cheated.”

  “Just a little,” he said. “You asked me where we were going. I said Naples. Here we are in Naples.”

  He was happy she didn’t ask any more questions. Theirs was an unconventional trip, not exactly a romantic getaway, but he had a feeling it had been a long time since anyone had done anything special for her. He couldn’t change the reason for their trip, but he could make the best of it by surprising her with the next leg of it.

  The landing gear came down under the plane as they approached the tarmac. Less than five minutes later they stepped onto the concrete and made their way toward a black car, the suited driver leaning against the trunk.

  “Ciao, Signore Cavallo,” he said when they approached.

  Damian gave him the one bag they had between them. “Ciao, Carlo.”

  He opened the door for Aria, let her slide in, and stepped in after her. They made their way out of the airport and through the narrow streets of the city, a riot of color, cars, pedestrians, and scooters. He watched her face as she looked through the window. It was like seeing the city for the first time, and he suddenly had a sense of what he’d been missing by being alone. The opportunity to share everything with someone, but also the opportunity to see everything through fresh eyes, to experience something again and again as if it were the first time.

  Half an hour after they left the airport, they came to a marina, boats bobbing next to the docks. Damian opened the door for Aria, got their bags, and paid his respects to Carlo before taking Aria’s hand.

  “Wait… are we going on a boat?” she asked as she followed along behind him.

  “Very perceptive, Miss Fiore.”

  She laughed. “Don’t be a smart ass.”

  He was surprised to feel a smile on his face. It was nice to pretend they were like everyone else for a moment. That they were just another couple spending the day together, getting to know each other.

  It wasn’t true, but there was no harm in enjoying it while they could.

  They came to a motorboat at the end of the dock.

  “Ready for the next part of our journey?” he asked.

  He held out a hand to help her into the boat, then followed her aboard. He spent a couple minutes getting everything situated and cast off before starting the motor. Then they were headed out across the azure waters toward the island of Capri.

  25

  She was suspended over the water, somewhere between heaven and the nightmare she’d left behind in New York. She hadn’t been a hundred percent sure of her decision right up until the moment she’d stepped onto the plush private jet on Long Island. But once they’d risen into the air she’d vowed to leave behind her uncertainty. She didn’t know what the future held — no one did — but she’d never felt safer than she did with Damian.

  She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t define it, but she knew that much was true.

  She was going to trust herself for once.

  She looked over at him standing on the bridge, the wheel of the ship resting lightly in his hand. Sunglasses shaded his eyes, a strip of bare skin visible at the top of his chest where his shirt was unbuttoned. His strong jaw was uncharacteristically relaxed, his dark hair blown back by the wind, and she felt a primitive tug at the center of her body, the pull of her body to his even though they’d only spent one night together.

  Now they were speeding toward an island that she could only assume was Capri. A shiver ran through her at the thought of being alone with him again. Of being naked with him again. Had she imagined the intensity of their lovemaking? Amplified it in the aftermath?

  She didn’t think so, but she was looking forward to testing the theory.

  The boat bounced over a wake as they approached the island. An invigorating spray of salt water hit her face. She laughed and Damian looked over at her with a grin as he downshifted.

  The island was picture-perfect, the seaside town a series of slender, brightly hued buildings nestled closely together on a sloping hill under a mountain of rock. Sailboat masts rose out of the water like primitive church spires, their vessels bobbing in the water. She thought they would head into the marina, but Damian took a hard left, navigating around the village to a more remote and rocky shore.

  The house seemed to rise up out of the water. The bottom was built of stone, the sea almost level with a walkway leading to an arched doorway. The structure was obviously old, rising four stories to a stucco facade with a patio that jutted perilously out over the water below.

  Damian steered the boat toward a dock at the front of the house where a small man waited. He waved as t
hey approached, then jumped onboard to grab two ropes before stepping back onto the dock and tying the boat to the metal cleats there.

  “Buenasera, Signore Cavallo,” he said when Damian cut the engine.

  Damian reached over the edge of the boat to clasp his hand. “Buenasera, Santino.”

  They exchanged a few words in rapid-fire Italian and the other man jumped into a small skiff and began rowing away, grinning all the while.

  “A friend of yours?” Aria asked, watching him go.

  Damian took her hand. “Everyone is a friend here. Come on.”

  He led her along the stone walkway, the ocean lapping inches from their feet, and into the arched stone doorway she’d spotted from the water. They were in a kind of cavern, the smell damp and moldy but not unpleasant.

  “You’re not going to throw me in the dungeon, are you?” she asked.

  His laughter echoed off the walls. “Not unless you’re very, very naughty.”

  He tugged her up a narrow, winding staircase, soundless except for the strange rush of the tide which seemed to be all around them. She was beginning to think they would ascend forever, an infinite staircase into the sky, when a beam of light appeared above and they stepped into a spacious, sunlit room.

  She blinked against the sudden brightness, taking in the expansive space, the cool tile floors, the stucco arches that were open to the sea. She walked to the edge and looked down, realized they were standing in the patio she’d seen from the water.

  She was right, it did jut out over the sea, the stone walkway where they’d entered the building somewhere far below beyond her line of sight.

  “Is it yours?” she asked, turning to look at him.

  “Having to run is always a possibility in our business,” he said. “I wanted to make sure I had options if it came to that.”

  She let her eyes travel the high ceilings, awash with sunlight, the old world furnishings that somehow managed to look modern too. “I have to admit this is a good one,” she said.

  “I’m glad you approve.” He took her hand. “But we’re not done yet.”