by M. Leighton
I might never get used to having a boss that looks like a heftier Denzel Washington and sounds like Barry White. He’s almost as tall as me and, if I were a lesser man, he might actually intimidate me.
I walk in and stand stiffly in front of his desk until he turns his shrewd gaze up to me. “What is it, Locke?”
“Sir, I stopped to help a woman with a flat tire along the highway yesterday. We kind of hit it off. Flirted a little. I gave her a ride since her spare was flat, too.”
His expression turns dubious. “Have I ever given you the impression that I give a damn about your love life?”
I laugh. “No, sir.”
“Does that mean there’s a point to this?”
“Yes, sir.”
He turns his hand in a circular motion like he’s manually speeding me up. “Then get to it. I’ve got work to do.”
“The woman, she’s Lance Tonin’s girlfriend.” That gets his full attention.
He sets down his pen, watching me for a few seconds before he narrows his eyes on me. “And?”
“Look, you know my goal is to be an under cover. I’m willing to put in the time, just like everybody else, but this is an opportunity I don’t think you would want to miss out on.”
“Is that right?” he asks, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his barrel chest.
“Sir, I know how long we’ve been after Tonin. And I know how hard it’s been for anyone to figure out how he works, even with someone on the inside. But maybe we’ve been working the wrong angle. Maybe trying to get close to him isn’t the way in.”
“And you think you could get Lance Tonin’s girlfriend to turn on him.”
“Yes, I do,” I reply confidently. “And even if she’s loyal to him, if I could just get inside with her for a little while, I think I could get something useful. She might not willingly turn on him, but…”
“And just how do you think you’d get inside?”
“Well, I know we have a guy on his crew…”
“And you know this how?”
I shrug. “I keep my ears open.” I smile. That’ll bug the shit out of him, but I’d never rat out one of my brothers for telling me.
He lets that go. For now. “So you’re asking me to compromise my man inside to get you in with his bimbo?”
“No, it’s not like he needs to recommend me for anything important or anything that might require much trust. If he could get me in doing some menial shit, I think it could work. As long as I have a way to spend a little time with her. I know I can do this, sir. I can feel it.”
“You feel it, huh? No chance that could be ego you’re feeling, is there?”
“Maybe a little, but we’re definitely friendly. If it doesn’t work, I’ll move on. No harm, no foul.”
“People don’t just ‘move on’ from Lance Tonin. He runs his organization in more of a blood-in, blood-out way. We’d have to extract you very carefully.”
“Okay, fine. If I fail. But only if.”
He watches me for at least a full minute, his sharp brown eyes digging all the way in, like he’s looking for evidence of the Locke worth behind the Locke name on the left side of my chest. I stand up taller. I’m Locke all right. Through and through. And I have no problem proving it.
“I’ll think about it.”
I glance down at my watch. “Well, not to be pushy, sir, but I’ll need to know something pretty soon. I’m meeting her in half an hour to return her phone. If I go dressed like this…”
He takes less time to consider something this simple. “Go in street clothes. Just in case. Come straight back and let me know if you still think you’ve got a way in.”
“Yes, sir,” I say to the top of his head. He’s already dismissed me.
CHAPTER SEVEN- TOMMI
I try not to fidget as I wait, but it’s hard. I feel like I’m playing with dynamite just by being here. Of course, there’s the concern about my phone and concern about Lance finding out what really happened yesterday, but there’s also just Sig himself. Something about him disconcerts me. I’m not even sure what it is.
I’ve thought about it a million times this morning, and I’ve all but convinced myself that his attractiveness and our chemistry was a result of my heightened anxiety, nothing more. For that reason, I’m ready to get my phone and put the whole thing behind me as soon as possible. Whatever it is about him that disconcerts me–if there even is such a thing today–will be a moot point in about ten more minutes. He’ll be out of my life for good. No harm done.
It’s when I’m glancing casually around the coffee shop, sipping my coffee, that I look up and I realize how very wrong I was. The instant my eyes fall on Sig’s tall form weaving through the tables, my stomach clenches. And when he winks in recognition, it bursts into a knot of fluttering flames like he’s my first crush and he’s about to ask me to go to a dance.
Carefully, I set my hot drink down and clasp my shaking hands tightly in my lap, my mantra for the moment something to the effect of be cool and stay out of trouble.
He’s dressed in faded jeans that hug his long, thick thighs and a chambray shirt that’s stretched tight across his wide shoulders and cuffed up his forearms. His hair is still damp from his shower and his face is even more handsome than I remember. I didn’t think that was actually possible.
Pulling out a chair and lowering his big body into it, Sig smiles at me across the table and I’m forced to acknowledge just how dramatically I underestimated my attraction to him. I feel his smile from my wide eyes to my trembling lips and on down to places below my waist that haven’t felt this needy in years.
And that’s not good.
Before I get too anxious, I remind myself once more that I won’t have to see him after today. He can’t be a problem for me if I never see him again, now can he?
Nope.
I scoot the cup of coffee that I ordered for him across the table just as he slaps a brown paper bag onto it. “For me?” he asks in his rumbly voice.
“For you.”
He takes a brave gulp and then unwraps a huge burger as I’m left to wonder if he has any skin left on his tongue. “Mmmm. Just when I thought you couldn’t possibly be any more attractive.”
I warm over his compliment. “I assume you like cream and sugar?”
“I like coffee. Any way it comes.”
“Even with a burger?”
“Especially with a burger.” He takes a voracious bite. I’m not surprised when he lowers the sandwich and about one third is missing. As big as he is, it makes sense that he’s a big eater with a big bite. I wonder vaguely if all his appetites are so…healthy.
I suck in a little breath at the train of my thoughts, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip to give me something unpleasant to think about. It usually works, but when Sig’s dark brown eyes fall to my mouth and his chewing slows, all I can think about is what it would feel like if he kissed me. Right here, right now. Before we go our separate ways forever.
“Are you hungry?” His voice is low, hypnotic, his eyes flipping up to capture mine and hold them relentlessly.
“I’ve already eaten. Thank you.” His eyes don’t leave mine as he takes another bite and chews. We sit in silence, watching each other, lost in thoughts that I can somehow imagine that we share. And that’s dangerous. Very, very dangerous.
With great effort, I glance away. “So, do you always eat like this for breakfast?”
“I have a big appetite. What can I say?”
I feel like groaning, his words playing into my thoughts as if he can read them. He has a way of doing that. “You’re a big boy.”
As soon as the words are out, I wish I could take them back. Why couldn’t I just not comment.
“I’m big, yeah, but there’s not a single boy part on me.” His grin is so wicked, so proud, so very…male, I can’t help laughing and rolling my eyes.
“Right. I forgot how modest you are.”
“I’ll try to remind you regularly then.�
��
That brings me back to the situation with a jarring jolt. There won’t be any “regularly” for us. There won’t be anything for us. Because of Lance. “Not to be rude, but you did bring my phone, right?”
Sig reaches into his pocket and produces my phone. I reach for it with both hands, trying to ignore that it’s warm from being close to his body. I try hard to focus only on how much trouble this could’ve caused me. I have got to be more careful.
“Thank you so much.”
“I’m all about smart phones and safety and shit, but you seem a little more…relieved than the average person. I mean, it is just a phone. Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I just…I rely pretty heavily on my phone.”
“Work?”
“Uhhhh, well, just life.”
Balling up his wrapper in his large hands, Sig’s eyes lock on mine, suddenly serious. “Boyfriend?”
I don’t know why I’m surprised that he’s perceptive. Those dark chocolate eyes seem to see everything.
I gulp. “Yes.”
Much to my surprise, he grins. “Good!”
That wasn’t what I was expecting. “Good?”
“Yes, good. That I can handle. I won’t feel bad. I couldn’t live with myself if I wrecked a home, but boyfriends are fair game.”
I smile politely. “As much as I appreciate the thought, I’m not interested.” That almost sounded convincing. Almost.
“Liar.”
“No, I’m not.”
Actually, I am. A really good one, too. Usually.
Sig watches me carefully, his fingers toying with his coffee cup. He leans slowly toward me, bracing his elbows on the table as he tilts his head to study me more closely. “I don’t believe you.”
“You should.”
“There’s something between us, Tommi. Whether you admit it or not.”
“There’s not. There can’t be.”
He relaxes back into this chair, his expression undaunted. “We’ll see.”
“Unfortunately, we will not. I doubt we’ll ever see each other again after today.”
“Let’s leave it up to fate. What do you say?”
I see no harm in agreeing, especially since I know that I won’t be seeing him again. If I ever spot him coming, I’ll run the other way. Sig is a risk I can’t afford.
“Fate’s a cruel woman. Or didn’t you know that?”
“That’s mother nature. Fate is a man. And he’s on my side. Trust me.”
I rise to my feet, draping my purse strap over my shoulder. “Well, it’s been a pleasure, Sig. Thank you for all your help.”
“Until next time,” he says, also standing.
I say nothing as I make my way toward the exit. The thing is, I’m disappointed that I won’t be seeing him again. I feel his eyes on me as I leave and I miss the heat of them already.
CHAPTER EIGHT- SIG
I head back to the station, walking right to Captain Brevard’s office. I knock and then walk on in. “I’m in, sir. You’ve gotta let me do this.”
“Locke, I–”
“Just trust me. I can pull this off.”
His sharp eyes dig in again, like two pointed shovels. They’ve been known to make a full-grown man fidget, but I’m confident that I can do this, so I hold his gaze, unwavering.
“Alright. You’ve got your shot. I’ll get word to Finch and set it up. But let me tell you, son, if you so much as–”
“I know, sir. You don’t need to warn me. I’m not messing this up. You have my word.”
He sighs. “Look, Locke, I know you’ve been a cop since the damn womb, but going under is different. Are you sure you’re ready for this? To give up all contact with your family for a while? Live on the wrong side of town, consort with the scum of society? To be someone you’re not, to be the type of person you’ve dedicated your life to getting off the streets?”
“I was born ready, sir. Just give me the details of my cover and I’ll bring this assface down.”
“I like the confidence. Just don’t let it turn into overconfidence. I’ve seen good men get killed over preventable mistakes.”
“I’ve got this, Cap. I’ve got this.”
“I sure as hell hope so,” he says, resigned.
I smile. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was born ready. I was born to do this right here. And I’m gonna do the shit out of it.
CHAPTER NINE- TOMMI
Three weeks later
“I told you I wanted someone to look out for you when I’m not around. Why are you surprised by this?”
I can tell by the look on his face that Lance suspects that I’m doing something I shouldn’t be, which I am, and that I have a devious reason for not wanting one of his men watching my every move, which I do. But I need to disabuse him of the notion or it could cripple my plans.
“I know how small you like to keep your crew and how much you value each one.” Not! “I just hate to feel like I’m taking away from the business. I’m not a helpless female.” Even though that’s what he wants me to be.
Lance smiles in that tolerant way he has, the way that says I’m like a wayward child who exasperates him. All he needs to do is cluck his tongue and say Tommi, Tommi, Tommi in a disapproving parent way.
“I don’t mind that you’re a helpless female. I don’t want you taking chances or having to work hard or get dirty. That’s not who you are.”
Not true. That’s not who he wants me to be, but it is who I am, actually. The fact that he can’t see it just assures me that I’m a good actress. A good liar. But I already knew that.
“I won’t. I promise to call if I ever need a hand. Then you can send someone right over.”
“Now you won’t have to call. The new guy’s sole purpose in life is to protect you, to be there when I can’t be.”
My lips wobble with the effort I’m putting into maintaining my pleasant smile. “Wh-when do I get to meet him then? I hope he isn’t too scary.” I widen my eyes, like a good little helpless girl would, and resist the urge to vomit.
Lance kisses my shoulder. “There’s no reason for you to ever fear one of my men, baby. If one ever laid a hand on you or endangered you in any way, he’d be dead within the hour.”
A bit of an exaggeration, I’m sure, but still Lance makes his point. Unfortunately for this guy, whoever he is, when Lance finally finds out what’s been going on, what the new babysitter has failed to catch on to, he’s probably going to be in deep trouble.
“Well, that makes me feel better.”
“Good. He should be here any minute.”
I try not to toy nervously with my hair or my fingers. I strive to appear outwardly calm at all times, even when my insides are on fire. Which they often are in Lance’s presence. “Where did you find him?” I make my question casual, even though I’m interested. I need to learn as much as I can about this man. It will only better serve my purposes if I know him better than he knows me.
“He’s Finch’s cousin. They worked together on the west coast. He used to enforce for a crew out there, so he can handle himself. Should be good security for you.”
“And did you check this guy out?”
Lance’s head snaps up and his suddenly-harsh eyes meet mine. “Of course I did. What the hell kind of fool do you take me for?”
“You’re not a fool. I’m just nervous.”
Lance releases me and I can breathe again. I squelch the shiver that tempts my nerve ends.
“Don’t ever second guess me.”
“I didn’t. I mean, I won’t.”
He says nothing, simply turns away and types something into his phone. Less than three minutes later, there’s a knock at the door and his trusted “Number Two,” Barber walks in. It’s who is following close on his heels that makes my mouth drop open for a second before I can snap it shut. Walking in, big as life, is none other than Sig. My Sig.
I stand, paralyzed, in the center of the room, trying to control my erratic breathing. I feel fear. Of cou
rse I feel fear. If he lets on that we know each other or, heaven forbid, has mentioned what happened three weeks ago on the side of the highway, I’m in for it. Lance will be furious. Furious that I lied to him, furious that I let another man take me dress shopping, furious that I went to such lengths to keep it form him.
But I feel something besides fear, too. I feel breathless, but in a completely different way than what Lance makes me feel. I also feel warm and dewy, like my skin has been misted with hot water. And I feel attracted. Oh god! Over the last three weeks, I’ve managed to convince myself that my memory of him had to be embellished, but now I can plainly see that it was not. He. Is. Gorgeous.
He seems taller than he was that day, all dressed in black from his perfectly fitted jeans to his perfectly fitted tee and blazer, his presence filling the room. He looks like a model for mob-wear or something. His sable eyes twinkle when they meet mine, but he says nothing. Neither do I.
“Randall, this is my lady, Tommi. Tommi, this is Slade Randall.”
I’m not surprised by Sig’s first words. It’s not unusual for men in this community of felons to adopt a nickname.
“I go by Sig. Like the gun,” Sig says, nodding curtly, his deep voice stroking the flesh of my face and chest from all the way across the room. “I don’t tell many people my name, much less go by it.”
Although he is speaking to me, I know the comment was meant for Lance. I almost gasp at his audacity, my eyes flitting to Lance. I see his jaw harden and I brace for his wrath. But it never comes. He merely responds with equal curtness. “Sig then. I don’t give a shit what you call yourself, just as long as you do your job.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Good because you start now. Tommi has a friend’s baby shower to attend. You’ll be taking her. You can drive the Maserati. You go where she goes. No questions. No excuses. She doesn’t leave your sight.”
Oh crap! “That’s not necessary,” I pipe up hurriedly. “I’m sure Sig,” I say, purposely pausing over the name, as though I’m not familiar with it, “would much rather wait in the car than to stand in the shadows, watching a bunch of girls swoon over baby clothes and play games that involve diapering a doll.” I put on my purr face, as I like to call it, and walk to Lance, draping one arm over his shoulder and running my finger down his jawline. “But if you don’t believe me and you’d like to come along, I’d be more than happy to show you.”