In the Crossfire

by L. P. Dover

  Ian scoffed. “Are you fucking serious? Do you think it’s the FBI?”

  My intuition said no. “I don’t think so, but I think whoever’s responsible might have ties to our people.”

  Ian huffed. “That’s not good. If your cover gets blown, you’re as good as dead.”

  “No shit. And with Corsino in hiding, I don’t have access to him.”

  “Come home then, or at least let me come out there and help you.”

  As much as I wanted him with him, I couldn’t give in. “You can’t, Ian. I haven’t mentioned anything about having a brother. Although, there is someone I’m going to reach out to. Having another Collman on hand might be just what I need.”

  “Who?” he asked, sounding curious.

  Besides my own brothers, there was another man I knew to be just as lethal as I was. I had no doubt he’d be up for the challenge. “Micah Perry,” I replied. “I worked with him on a case a few years ago. This job is right up his alley.”

  “Yeah, I know who he is. If it doesn’t work out, let me know, and I’ll make my way to New York.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I’ll keep in touch as much as I can, but I can’t promise anything.”

  Ian sighed. “Like I always say, be careful. Don’t know why you had to be a fuckin’ idiot and do that job on your own.”

  That made me laugh. “Everyone else was too afraid.”

  “Whatever, asshole. Don’t get yourself killed.”

  We hung up, and I looked out the window again to make sure Layla was still in the pool. She slid off her float and swam over to the edge, where Francis held out a cocktail to her. He sat down and put his feet in the water while they laughed and talked. A pang of jealousy sparked in my gut, and it pissed me off. I had no right to be angry. It wasn’t because of her spending time with Francis; it was because I wanted to be down there with her. I’d slipped up one too many times where she was concerned. I comforted her when I needed to keep my distance. I let her see a glimpse of the other side of me.

  Not anymore. I couldn’t allow that to happen again.

  Moving away from the window, I called Micah’s number. It’d been almost a year since I’d talked to him last.

  “Bryce fucking Chandler,” he answered. “Long time no talk. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  He chuckled, and I smiled. “I could use some help in New York. Interested?”

  “Last I heard, you were balls-deep in the mob.”

  “You heard right. Think you got the balls to join me?”

  He laughed again. “Hell yeah. I’m up for kicking some gangster ass. Just tell me what I gotta do.”

  I quickly explained everything and ended the call. He knew what he had to do, and in two weeks, he’d be arriving as Micah Collman.

  *

  An hour had passed, and I’d hoped Layla would’ve been done in the pool, but she wasn’t. I heard music coming from downstairs, so I decided to see what was going on before joining her outside. Francis was in the kitchen, singing along to a French song as he diced up an onion. He hadn’t seen me yet, but when he did, he startled and grabbed his chest.

  “Merde,” he gasped. He set his knife down, and fanned himself. “You scared me. I swear you weren’t there a second ago.”

  I held up my hands. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  The music still played from the radio, but he turned it off and smiled. “No worries. Is there something I can get you?”

  “No,” I replied, shaking my head. “I was just looking around before I headed outside.”

  Francis grinned as if he knew something I didn’t. “Layla wanted spaghetti tonight. Hopefully, that’s okay with you? It’s one of my specialties.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He beamed. “Great. I’m starting it early so the flavors can really make an impact. I made sandwiches for lunch if you want one.” He nodded toward the refrigerator. “They’re in there.”

  It just so happened my stomach growled at that exact moment. I grabbed one of the ham sandwiches off the platter in the refrigerator and unwrapped it as I sat down at the bar. Francis continued to chop up the onion, grinning like an idiot as he did it.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  Shaking his head, he dumped the diced onions in the pot with the hamburger meat. “Nothing. I’m just wondering why you’re in here talking to me when you could be outside with Layla. She doesn’t take a liking to just anyone.”

  I ate a bite of the sandwich. “That’s the problem. Nothing’s gonna happen between us.”

  He snorted. “Could’ve fooled me. From what I’ve seen, there’s obviously a spark.”

  Gaze narrowed, I set my sandwich down, curiosity getting the better of me. I knew she confided in him, since he was all she had at the estate who could be classified as a friend. “What has she said to you?”

  That sly grin of his was back, and he held up his hands. “Nothing, really. I’m just going to mind my own business.” He turned his back to me and focused on the pot of spaghetti. “Dinner will be served on the patio tonight. The weather’s supposed to be perfect.”

  Groaning, I finished my sandwich and walked out of the kitchen. I could see it in Layla’s eyes when she left my room. She was a woman who always got what she wanted. Maybe if I showed her the darker side of me, she’d think twice. As much as I hated the fact, it was what I had to do.

  I walked outside, and Layla waved at me from the pool steps. “Hey! I was beginning to think you got lost.” She stepped out of the pool and grabbed her towel off one of the lounge chairs. I turned my head to keep from looking at her sun-kissed body.

  Once she wrapped up in her large pink-and-black polka-dot towel, I turned to her. “I had some calls to make. Figured I’d let you know what’s going on.”

  Brows furrowed, she lifted her sunglasses and rested them on top of her head, her greenish-brown eyes staring right at me. “What is it?”

  I felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of lying to her, but it had to be done. She was a Corsino, end of story. “Your brother asked me to reach out to my family for help. I have a cousin who’s coming this way in two weeks. He’ll be able to help me here.”

  Her eyes widened. “Does my father know?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet. I wanted to tell you first, since it mainly involves you.” Actually, I hadn’t told him yet so Micah would have a chance to get a paper trail going in case Anthony decided to look him up. All we needed was proof that there was a Micah Collman in the world.

  Layla smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate you coming to me first. At least, with having him here, it’ll give you a chance to take a break.”

  “Not likely,” I replied. “I still have to be on guard.”

  Her lips pursed. “We have a security system that alerts you if anything or anyone comes near the perimeter. No one is getting in.”

  She was right. I knew she’d come back on me with that. “Still,” I said, “I have to stay focused.” In more ways than one.

  “Okay.” She tried not to smile and failed. “I want to ask you a favor though.”

  “What?” Getting her to hate me was going to be difficult.

  “Dominic was supposed to start training with me when we got back home, but he’s not here. I was wondering if you’d be able to? I was a pretty good fighter back in the day.” She was definitely a stubborn ass, but a fighter? This I had to see. As much as I needed to keep my distance, she had me intrigued. She held out her hand and smiled. “What do you say? Do we have a deal?”

  I shook her hand. “We do.” Although, she probably wasn’t going to want to see me again after dinner tonight. I didn’t want her afraid of me, but there was no other way to get her to see that I wasn’t the man for her.

  She beamed and slowly withdrew her hand. “Great. Guess I’ll see you at dinner time then?”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  Turning on her heel, she disappeared inside. I was way past ready to get the nigh
t over with.

  Chapter Eleven

  Layla

  Once out of the shower, I wrapped my hair into a bun and slipped into my favorite green sundress. I’d heard Bryce go into his room about an hour ago, but he had yet to leave. What I didn’t understand was how he could be hot one minute and cold the next. To be honest, it was starting to piss me off. He was keeping me at a distance for a reason, and something inside me told me that it wasn’t my father. He’d already said he wasn’t afraid of him. The only other thing would be that he wasn’t interested in me, but I had seen the heat in his eyes on more than one occasion.

  Then again, I could be wrong. It could always be pity he felt for me, being locked away in a house with no access to the outer world, cut off from my life. Grabbing my cell off the bed, I walked over to the window. I didn’t realize I’d been squeezing it so hard until my hand went numb.

  I looked out at the gardens, at the thousands of colorful flowers that bloomed every year. It used to be a welcome sight, but now all I could feel was anger and resentment. I shouldn’t have to put my life on hold because of my father. If someone was after him, there had to be a reason why. The Cartwrights were shady as hell so it didn’t surprise me that someone targeted them…but my father? And Michael?

  Leaning against the window, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I was beginning to think I didn’t know anything about my family. Looking down at my phone, I started to call my father, but then Faith’s name popped up on my screen.

  “Hey,” I answered.

  “Girl, I have been so worried about you. How’s your father?” She sounded frantic, and before I could respond, she kept going. “How are you? Oh my God, I can’t believe what all happened. Julian Cartwright is dead. You used to complain about him all the time.”

  “Everything’s fine, Faith, I promise,” I assured her. “My father’s okay, and I’m at the estate.”

  “Did you talk to Julian at the gala?” Memories of the gala flashed in my mind. I wanted to erase the visions of Julian getting shot right before my eyes, but I knew it’d never happen.

  “I did. We had just finished a dance when he was killed.”

  She gasped. “Holy shit, that’s insane. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Not really, but I’ll manage. I’m basically a prisoner in my own house right now, at least until the police find out who the shooter was.”

  The line went silent for a second, but then she cleared her throat. “Have you seen the news, Layla?”

  I walked over to the Victorian sofa at the foot of my bed, and sat down. “Nope. I’ve been trying to forget it all happened. Why? What’s the media saying?”

  “Well,” she began, sounding uneasy, “they’re bringing up the word mafia a lot. They’re even saying it when referring to your family.”

  Faith had been my friend for a long time, but I knew it was only a matter of time before she’d know the truth. I didn’t want her being afraid of what being my friend might entail. Just having dinner with her the night Michael went missing could’ve put her in danger.

  “Are you really that surprised?” I asked.

  She snorted. “Not really. I mean, your dad looks the part, and so does all the men he has following him around. Not to mention, you’ve had your fair share of bodyguards. That’s not how normal families are.”

  “If you don’t want to be associated with me, that’s fine. I completely understand.”

  “Seriously,” she snapped. “Have you lost your ever-loving mind? You’re my best friend, and I love you. I just hate that you kept it from me all these years. I wouldn’t have thought of you any differently. You’re still the same kind-hearted, stubborn, and hard-working girl I met ten years ago. You’re stuck with me.”

  I blew out a relieved sigh. “Thanks, Faith. You have no idea how much that means to me. I’d give anything to have a girls weekend right now. I need to vent.”

  “Go for it. I’m listening.”

  I’d always wanted to confide in her, and for the first time it felt like I could. I lowered my voice so Bryce couldn’t hear me from across the hall. “Okay,” I replied, “long story short, I’m at the estate with this guy. His name’s Bryce Collman. Apparently, everyone used to be afraid of his family back in the day. Anyway, he told my father he’d keep me safe until everything blows over.”

  Faith gasped. “Please don’t tell me you’re falling for this guy?” I bit my lip, and didn’t respond. She obviously understood the meaning of my silence. “Wow. I don’t know what to say. Is he hot?”

  That made me snicker. “Very. He’s…different. When we first met, I knew he was dangerous. The man’s smarter than anyone I’ve ever met.” I looked over at my clock, and my heart raced; it was almost time to see him again. “We have a connection. I can feel it.”

  “What’s the problem then?” Faith asked.

  I shrugged even though she couldn’t see me. “Don’t know. When he touches me, it’s like my whole body comes alive. I know he feels it too, but here recently he’s put me at a distance. I don’t know what happened. I know he’s not afraid of my father. In fact, I don’t think he’s afraid of anything.”

  “Why don’t you just ask him? You’ve never been afraid of speaking your mind.”

  Hearing her words gave me hope. She was right. I’d never been one to back down from anything. “I think I will,” I said as I stood and looked at myself in the stand-up mirror. “I may not like the answers, but it’s time I find out the truth, not only from Bryce, but my father as well. With him being targeted, I have a feeling he did something to deserve it.”

  “Good luck, Layla. I’m sorry you have to go through all of this alone.”

  “Thanks. I’ll call you later and let you know how it goes.”

  She sighed. “Okay. Hopefully your dad didn’t do anything too unforgiveable. But whatever happens with Bryce, don’t dump him in the lake with cement boots if he pisses you off. I’ve seen a few mafia movies in my time.”

  I rolled my eyes and smiled. “I’ll try not to.” We hung up just as I heard Bryce’s door open. I held my breath the entire time his footsteps echoed down the hall. Once he was gone, I took a deep breath and opened my door. He was the first man to ever make me nervous; it terrified me. I always had the upper hand when it came to men, at least until Julian scared them all away. That was a problem I didn’t have to worry about anymore. Was it bad that I was happy he was gone?

  When I got down to the bottom of the stairs, I could hear Bryce in the kitchen, talking to Francis. I wasn’t ready to see him yet, so I went outside to the patio table, where a bottle of white wine sat in a bucket of ice, waiting for me. There were two covered dishes, two glasses of ice water with lemons, and a basket of warm French bread with softened butter to the side. The wine bottle had already been opened, so I poured a glass and waited for Bryce to join me. I wasn’t a heavy drinker, but I sure did need it. But, I couldn’t get drunk around Bryce. I’d already embarrassed myself by doing that the last time we had dinner together.

  I’d just taken the first sip when Bryce walked out the patio door, wearing a pair of khaki pants and a pale green polo shirt. The air was thick around him, almost like he was uncomfortable. Francis followed behind him and grinned at me as he approached.

  “You look lovely tonight, Layla.” He waggled his eyebrows behind Bryce’s back and winked. I smiled at him, but I obviously didn’t do a good job because his faded, a look of concern in his eyes.

  Bryce sat down, but I kept my focus on Francis. “Thanks, Francis. Everything smells amazing.”

  He nodded and took the covers off our dishes. We each had a salad and a huge bowl of spaghetti. “You should have everything you need out here, but if not, I’ll be just inside.”

  Bryce held out his hand. “It looks delicious. Thank you for putting it all together.”

  Francis shook his hand. “You’re welcome. I’m happy to finally have Layla home.”

  He winked at me again, and I blew him a kiss. “Tell
Mark I said hello. I haven’t seen him around yet.”

  Francis sighed. “That’s because he’s in London for fashion week. He’ll be back in a few days, but I’ll tell him you said hi.” He smiled once more, and then disappeared inside.

  I grabbed a slice of French bread and spread some butter on it. “Don’t look too excited about eating dinner with me. I know it’s agony.” I was hoping to get one of his smirks, but all I got was nothing.

  He stared at me with an annoyed expression on his face, like I was a nuisance he couldn’t get rid of. “What exactly do you want from me?”

  I shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the guy you were yesterday and a few days before that. Not the hard-ass you are now.”

  His jaw clenched. “This is who I am.”

  Gaze narrowed, I crossed my arms over my chest. “I see that. Guess I just imagined you were different.”

  “I’m not,” he replied, his eyes hard and unwavering. “Whatever you think is going on between us isn’t going to happen. It can’t.”

  “Then why do I feel a connection between us? I know you feel it too.”

  He averted his gaze, and sighed. “It’s complicated. You don’t even know anything about me.”

  “That’s because you don’t tell me. See, this is how it goes.” I moved closer to the table and rested on my elbows. “My name’s Layla Madison Corsino. I’m a twenty-eight-year-old lawyer who graduated from Columbia. Red velvet is my favorite cake, I love the color green, and I could listen to Phil Collins all day long.” Even though his look of disinterest infuriated me, I smiled and waved a hand for him to talk. “Your turn.”

  Bryce huffed. “Fine. My name’s Bryce. I’m thirty years old, and I kill people for a living. Is that what you wanted to hear?” Mouth gaping, I was at a loss for words, but something in his eyes screamed the truth. My brain shouted at me to get away from him, but I couldn’t.

  Swallowing hard, I sat frozen under his icy blue stare. “Is that the truth?”