This Thing of Ours (The Gamblers Spin-off Novel)

by Sarah Curtis

  She’d done the cooking. Marco hadn’t been lying about only knowing how to cook the basics, so it’d been up to her if they’d wanted anything other than dried pasta and jar sauce—a meal that would have her nonna turning in her grave if it passed Gabby’s lips. As she’d liked to say, no respectable Italian woman used sauce from a jar. And as a good Italian boy, Marco had gushed over her cooking even when Gabby had accidentally burned the garlic bread.

  And though Gabby was excited to get out and once again join society, she would miss the peaceful seclusion she and Marco had shared. It had been a week of perfection that she hoped was a sneak peek into what their married life would be like.

  Had she known it would be the calm right before the storm, she would have cherished that time a little more.

  Standing with a group of women, Gabby watched Marco approach, wine cooler in one hand, beer in the other, a smile lifting his lips. A smirk tugged at hers as she enjoyed the view. Marco looked great in his jeans. Soft denim, snug at his hips and thighs. Pair that with the black, vee-neck, cashmere sweater he wore and he was a sight to behold. He made casual look good. The sigh emitted from the woman beside her told Gabby she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

  “You’re one lucky bitch, you know that?”

  Gabby eyed the woman, Christy or Chrissy, she couldn’t remember. What she did know was she was Ricky’s flavor of the month and a different woman from the one she’d last seen him with a few weeks before. What she also knew was she didn’t like the gleam in her eye as she watched Marco. It gave her a new appreciation for Marco’s reaction to her and other men.

  “Excuse me.” Gabby stepped away from the group and met Marco before he could draw near. She latched onto his arm, pulling him in the opposite direction.

  Marco raised an inquiring brow. “Problem?”

  “Let’s just say, I don’t find your jealousy as foolish as I once did.”

  “And what’s brought on this change of heart?” He handed over the wine cooler, and she nodded her thanks.

  “Christy,” she all but spat.

  Marco looked confused for a second before he said, “Oh, you mean Chrissy?”

  “And how do you know her name?” She knew she was acting irrational, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself, nor to be honest, did she want to.

  Marco took a tiny step back, holding up his hands in surrender, the fingers of one hand splayed, the other still holding his beer. “Ricky talks about her a lot. I think he really likes this one.”

  “Well, he should be warned. She has roving eyes.”

  Marco chuckled. “And you,” he inched forward so he was in her personal bubble, “look very becoming in that particular shade of green.”

  Gabby narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get too cocky. You were wearing this particular shade not too long ago, yourself.”

  He nodded. “I’m not ashamed to admit I was. I’m also not ashamed to admit, seeing you jealous is making my dick hard.”

  Gabby rolled her eyes. “Everything makes your dick hard.”

  He took a swig of his beer. “Only when I’m around you.”

  Gabby followed suit, taking a sip of her wine cooler. She liked it and took a look at the label. Wild cherry. “Well, I’ll have to take your word for that since I can’t prove otherwise when you’re not around.”

  He chuckled then tipped his head back, taking another swig of his beer.

  “Food’s ready!” Gabby heard Olivia yell from somewhere over by the barbecue.

  “Oh, good. I’m starving,” Gabby said, setting her bottle down on the closest table so she would have both hands free for food.

  “We just ate breakfast a few hours ago. You sure you’re not eating for two?”

  That wasn’t the first time he’d made a pregnancy joke or hinted to the fact he wouldn’t mind if she got pregnant even though she’d assured him, on more than one occasion, she was on the pill and had been for years.

  She ignored his remark instead stating, “Fruit and toast don’t have staying power. Besides, having to smell cooking meat for the past hour has been slowly driving me insane.”

  Marco captured her hand. “Well then, I’d better feed you before I need to commit you.”

  They made their way to Nico, and Gabby’s mouth started to water as she watched him carving a large roast.

  Nico glanced over at them and smiled. “First in line, I see.”

  Marco nodded. “She said the smell was slowly driving her insane.”

  Nico chuckled. “Yeah, Gabby always did lose her cool around a big slab of beef.”

  Gabby heard Marco choke on a laugh and felt her cheeks catch fire. “You did not just say that, Nicoló Conti.”

  Nico’s brow furrowed. “What?” Then his own cheeks heated. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Marco finally lost it, tipping his head back, laughing.

  “Fuck you, Bianchi.” Nico pointed the knife he was holding at him.

  But that just made Marco laugh harder.

  Olivia appeared. “Boys, stop bickering. Nico, put down the knife.” She held out a plate and unaware of the previous conversation, unwisely said, “Be sure to give Gabby a piece from the center. You know she likes her meat tender.”

  Both Marco and Nico lost it that time.

  Olivia looked confused. “What’s so funny?”

  Gabby felt two strong arms encircle her and she looked up at Marco’s mirth-filled expression before looking back at Olivia. Then said the only thing she could possibly say at that point. “I think I’ll just have the salad.”

  “Do you mind handing me a Corona?”

  Bent over, digging through the cooler, looking for another wild cherry wine cooler, Gabby heard the unmistakable voice of Chrissy or was it Christy—shit, she’d forgotten again. She looked over her shoulder. “Sure.”

  “Thanks, hon.”

  Gabby gritted her teeth. She hated being called hon. Giving up on finding the flavor she was looking for, she just grabbed the beer, plastering a smile on her face before standing back up. “Here you go.”

  Awkward silence commenced. Then Christy/Chrissy said, “Ricky talks about you so much, I feel like I know you.”

  Surprised, Gabby said, “He does?”

  Christy/Chrissy laughed and waved a dismissive hand. “I guess it’s really not that unusual seeing as he’s your bodyguard and all.”

  While that had been true in the past, it hadn’t been lately. At least not since Marco had taken over. Not liking the fact she’d been talked about behind her back especially to a total stranger, she asked, “What, um… What does he say?”

  “Oh, just what you guys do, where you go eat. You know, stuff like that. You go out for Thai a lot. Must be your favorite, huh?”

  At that, things clicked. Ricky was using Gabby as a cover story when he didn’t want to see Christy/Chrissy. She couldn’t say what Ricky was doing in the time he said he was guarding her, but whatever it was, it probably wasn’t good. At least not for Christy/Chrissy.

  Not knowing what to say, Gabby settled on, “I do like Thai—”

  Loud popping filled the air, cutting her off mid-sentence, followed by Christy/Chrissy screaming in her ear.

  At first, Gabby assumed someone had shot off some fireworks early, which she found strange because it wasn’t near dark yet. But then she felt a body collide with hers—Marco’s body. She’d know it anywhere. He took them to the ground and rolled, so his body covered hers. And with a sickening truth, she realized what was happening.

  They were being fired upon.

  Objects shattered around her. She wasn’t sure what because Marco had her head completely covered, but she felt the vibrations of them hitting the ground. The various noises were deafening and blended to create one disjointed sound. Though, she found, if she concentrated hard enough, she could differentiate between some of them. The whoosh of helicopter rotors. The stuttering of machine gun fire. The tinkling sound of shattered glass as it hit the concrete. The thumps
of bullets hitting wood. The roughly growled shouts. The echo of lingering screams. Marco’s breath rasping in her ear.

  She found herself growing lightheaded, her heartbeat growing louder and louder in her ears and drowning out the other sounds around her. Thinking Marco’s weight was to blame, she opened her mouth to tell him she couldn’t breathe, only to discover she’d been holding her breath. She took in lungfuls of air and the arms surrounding her tightened.

  “I’ve got you, cara mia.”

  She believed him. How could she not? His body covered hers from head to toe.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t handle the situation one second longer without completely losing it, all went silent except for the low hum of the helicopter fading away.

  She felt hands on her face, and she opened eyes she hadn’t realized were closed. She was greeted by Marco’s face hovering above hers. “You okay?”

  She did a mental calculation, discovering nothing pained her. “I think so. What about you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  That answer didn’t lessen her concern. “My definition of fine or yours?”

  He frowned. “What?”

  Gabby clarified. “Are you hurt? Bleeding?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. “My definition then.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” Concern blanketed his expression.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Now he had her saying it.

  “Okay. I need to go. Check on everyone.”

  Her family! Panic replaced the fog of denial she was living in as her brain switched back on and the horror of what had just happened finally started to sink in. Nico. Olivia. Oh, God, Angelica. Had she been outside or in the house? She couldn’t remember. How could she have forgotten them even for a second? She felt like the lowest form of human being. A lump formed in her throat and she nodded, pushing against his chest, unable to form words, but telling him to go.

  He kissed her softly on the lips, whispering, “I love you,” against them before rolling off her.

  Marco’s face was replaced with the underside of a wooden table. She hadn’t even noticed he rolled them under it for cover.

  She scurried from under the table’s protection and did a quick scan trying to pinpoint if anyone needed help. She looked around her, feeling numb. Though she’d heard it, she still wasn’t prepared for the amount of destruction she encountered.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “We’ve gotta find this fucker.” Nico’s voice was low, his words intended for Marco’s ears alone.

  Marco couldn’t agree more. He looked around at the destruction. The place was fucked up. Almost every window along the back of the house had been blown out. And that included the ones on the second level. Holes and scars marred the siding. The concrete walkways were chipped along with the tile edging the pool.

  Thankfully, none of the women or children and only two of their men had been hurt thanks to the protective patio cover that most had been standing under. And of the two men who had been injured, neither were serious. Frankie had taken a bullet to the arm, and Dino got clipped, taking off part of his ear. He’d been a lucky fucker. A few more inches to the left and he wouldn’t still be around, producing the racket he was currently making.

  “Fuck, Dino. Shut the fuck up. You sound like a girl.” Slight pause. “Fuck, man, I take that back. Even girls don’t bitch as much as you.” Apparently, Ricky’d had enough, too.

  “Fuck you, Ricky. Like you wouldn’t complain if half your fuckin’ ear was gone.”

  “I don’t know what you’re bitchin’ about. They were too fuckin’ big to begin with. Fuckin’ Dumbo.”

  “Fuck you. How’d you like me to shoot your fuckin’ ear? See what it feels like.”

  “How about I shoot your other fuckin’ ear and make ‘em even?”

  Marco ignored their bickering. He knew they were just blowing off steam. He didn’t really fear for the state of anyone’s ears. At least not until Dino pulled out his gun.

  Marco gave him a glare. “Put that shit away, Dino. Now.”

  Nico turned and looked over his shoulder at the two, a frown pulling his brow. “Knock it off, or I’ll shoot you both myself.”

  “Yes, boss,” they replied, practically in unison.

  Nico picked up his conversation with Marco as if they hadn’t been interrupted. “We need all eyes on the street and that includes yours and mine. I want to flush Volkov out, and if it takes me showing my face to do it, so be it.”

  And Nico knew Marco would have his back. “What about the women? I’m not sure I trust anyone else to watch out for Gabriella.” That was an understatement. Marco wasn’t only sure, he was positive he didn’t trust anyone but himself to keep Gabriella safe.

  “I’m sending them to the safe house.”

  The safe house was about a half hour outside Vegas in Boulder City. Marco raised a brow. “You think they’ll go for that?”

  Nico gave him a look. The one he knew meant business. “They don’t have a choice.”

  Marco nodded. He understood. He just hoped Gabriella would too.

  She didn’t.

  “I don’t see why I can’t stay here.”

  Marco watched, fascinated, as Gabriella crammed item after item into an already overfilled duffle bag. They made the detour to his condo so Gabriella could pack before meeting up with Nico and family in Boulder City. “It’s not safe.”

  “I’d be safe here.”

  “Not as safe as there.” She knew he spoke the truth. The safe house was state of the art and equipped with a panic room. Marco wasn’t taking any chances, especially when it involved something he felt so strongly about.

  Gabriella’s safety.

  He knocked her duffle to the floor then sat on the edge of the bed before grabbing her hips and tugging her down to straddle his lap. “It’ll give me peace of mind, knowing you’re safe.”

  Her hands clutched his shoulders to keep balance. “And what about me? What will put my mind at ease?”

  He was quick with an answer. “Knowing I carry a gun and won’t hesitate to use it.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not good enough. I need you to promise you'll be okay.”

  “I can't make that promise.”

  Tears filled her eyes, threatening to fall over the edge and down her cheeks. But she blinked them away and that fucking broke his heart worse than if she’d let them fall. His girl was so strong and never asked for anything.

  “Promise me, Marco, please, even if you don't mean it, promise me.”

  He sighed, his conscious warring with the need to make her happy. It wasn’t hard to guess what would win. “I promise, cara mia.”

  Relief washed away her tense features, and she closed her eyes dipping her forehead to rest against his. “Thank you.”

  He rubbed a hand up her spine to the back of her neck and squeezed. “I need you.” It could be days until he saw her again, he had to have her one more time.

  “You have me.”

  His lips found hers, gentle at first. Feather-light kisses he dusted along her lower lip before he sucked it into his mouth. He loved the taste of her. The cherry lip gloss she wore combined with a taste that was uniquely Gabriella.

  She scraped her fingernails along his scalp. Fuck that felt good and had his dick needing relief. He fisted the hem of her sweater, pulling it up the length of her back and over her head, dislodging her hands from his hair, but he got them back. Thank fuck.

  Her tits were in his face, beckoning him, and he didn’t have the willpower to resist their allure. He traced along their swells with his tongue until, wanting more, she pressed them into him. He captured a nipple in his mouth and bit.

  She moaned.

  He sucked her through the satin and lace. But he wanted her skin. Her heat. Her scent. Her taste.

  He unclasped her bra, shoved the cups down, and cupping the mounds, he feasted.

  She squirmed in h
is lap, and then he lost her as she stood. He watched as she undid her pants and shimmied them over her hips and down her legs, exposing her creamy skin, kicking her shoes off in the process.

  He captured her again, tossing her on the bed and covering her with his body, taking her mouth and thrusting in with his tongue.

  His hands roamed, followed by his mouth. Over her breasts, down her stomach, to her pussy. She spread her legs, inviting him in and he accepted, licking through her folds and sucking on the nub he found buried within.

  The noises she made amped his excitement to the point he thought he’d burst from his slacks if he didn’t do something soon. He got to work freeing himself, taking himself in hand, and without conscious thought, he was sliding inside her, slamming himself in to the hilt.

  She arched into his thrust, her legs wrapping around his lower back and his ass.

  Fuck, yeah.

  He slammed into her over and over. Her legs clamped him. Her hands clutched at him. His hands held fistfuls of the bedding, his arms locked tight.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was too rough, but he didn’t have the willpower to stop.

  He heard her scream out his name, and a bright light filled his vision right before everything went black and he collapsed, energy spent.

  He came back to himself in fragments.

  He heard his harsh breaths mingled with hers and realized all his weight was on her. He rolled to the side, taking Gabriella with him, so she lay more on him than not.

  Reaching out a hand, he ran it through her hair to brush it away from her face. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

  Her eyes were closed and she… purred? That was the best way to describe the sound she made while she stretched, bringing her already close body that much closer. “That was…”

  He held his breath, waiting for her to answer. While by far the most intense orgasm he’d ever had—hell he thought he might have even blacked out for a second—he wasn’t sure he’d forgive himself if he’d hurt her.