Dirty Empire

by Nina West

  “A chocolate body wrap,” he echoes, inhaling. “So that’s what I smell.” His hand pushes the hem of my skirt up. “Do you taste like chocolate, too?”

  Longing stirs in my lower belly, despite everything. “I don’t know. I might taste like oil and body cream.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad, either.” His gaze is searing as it drags over my bare legs, as he pushes my skirt even higher, revealing the lace of my panties. I know that look. He’s pondering the idea of pushing my thighs apart and finding out what my skin tastes like. In this short sundress, it wouldn’t take much work on his part. With my frazzled nerves, I think it’d be a welcomed distraction.

  But then he sighs heavily, his attention veering to the door. A soft curse slips from his lips.

  “You have somewhere you need to be?”

  “I shouldn’t leave Caleb alone with them. He’s liable to say something fucking stupid and tear this whole deal to shreds.”

  “The hotel deal?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  He hesitates a moment before shaking his head.

  The “family” business, then.

  Their drug enterprise.

  “You’re going into business with them?” I can’t help the accusation in my tone. “What happened to going legit?” Was he lying to me? Am I a fool to believe that will ever happen?

  “We’re not going into business with the Perris.” A dark chuckle escapes his lips, as if the idea is absurd. “It’s just…. It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated how?”

  His gaze drifts out past the wall of windows that overlooks the city. “Merrick and Vince are like us. They want out, too. But their father and older brothers are…” His brow pulls tights. “They’re like my father.”

  “They want them to carry on the family business.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What is it with these old crime bosses being so desperate to breed more criminals?” I mutter, earning his chuckle.

  “Anyway, we need their help to break free of my father’s reach, and they need our help, too. So we’re helping each other. That’s all this is.” He guides my skirt back down, flattening it with his palm.

  I bite my tongue against the urge to ask how. The less I know, the better. That way I’ll have nothing to tell the FBI and the Easton family won’t label me a witness in need of extermination.

  But what surprises me is how freely Gabriel is speaking to me about his family’s business now. Granted, he’s still guarded, but it’s like a switch has been flipped with him lately, where he actually wants to divulge his secrets to me.

  Like he trusts me.

  Like he might get comfortable enough to complain about his day, to get “careless,” as Agent Lewis suggested.

  Maybe it’s a residual of nearly dying together last night. Or maybe this is what happens when a guy like him falls in love. In any case, a few more weeks of this and there is a real possibility that Gabriel will divulge something that the FBI can use to bring down their entire dirty empire. Something that will earn my father’s freedom from prison.

  That prospect doesn’t bring the wave of excitement and hope that I would have expected it to. Instead, a sharp pang of guilt stirs in my chest.

  I swallow against the sickly feeling. “I’m sure I’m better off not knowing.” My voice sounds off, shaky.

  “You are.” Gabriel stands. “Will you be up to dinner in a few hours?”

  “I hope so. Why?”

  “We have reservations for seven, and then you and Michelle are going to a show after.” A small smile touches his lips. “She said you’ve been dying to see Cirque du Soleil, so I got you tickets. They’re good ones.”

  “You won’t be coming?” My voice is laced with disappointment.

  “No, but don’t worry, Moe will be with you.”

  “Fantastic,” I mutter.

  “Don’t worry, he’ll blend in. You won’t even notice him.”

  “Like at the spa today?” The receptionist looked only too happy to wave goodbye to our backs.

  Gabriel rubs his forehead. “I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. I’m not doing this again. Until we have a handle on my uncle, you’re not leaving here without protection, and that’s final.”

  Normally, I might be irritated with this domineering side of him, but for once I don’t mind. In fact, if I go back there tomorrow, I’m going to ask Moe to stand outside my treatment door. “It’s not him. Well, part of it is him.”

  “And what’s the other part?”

  I hesitate. “I just thought this trip was about us and I’m beginning to feel like an accessory.” One that could be swapped out for any number of females. That bothers me far more than I’d like to admit.

  “You’re not an accessory, Mercy.” He bites his bottom lip in thought. “I wish I could be at the show tonight.”

  I snort at the bold-faced lie. “Bullshit.”

  That earns me a smile. “I’d spend the whole time with my hand up your dress.”

  I feel his words between my thighs.

  He sighs. “Caleb and I have something to take care of tonight and I don’t want you around for it.”

  That sounds as ominous as last night’s excursion. “It better not involve any women,” I warn half-heartedly.

  He winks. “Only a few.”

  I spear him with a glare that makes him laugh.

  “No, there won’t be any women at this meeting.” He leans in to press a lingering kiss against my lips before whispering, “And there’s only one woman for me. You know that.”

  My heart skips a beat before beginning to race. His candor with expressing his feelings of late has been a welcome change. “Do I?”

  “You should by now.” Our eyes are inches apart as he regards me, and I see a glimmer of vulnerability in them. “You fucking own me, Mercy.” He presses his forehead to mine. “I never expected to feel about anyone like I do about you.”

  My hand moves of its own accord, reaching up to smooth over his chest, reveling in the plane of hard muscle before stalling over his heart. I think I’m beginning to see it. Why else would he go to all this effort and expense—twisted as it may be—to keep me around? Gabriel is surrounded by beautiful women. He could screw five different women every day. He probably did before I showed up.

  For whatever reason, I’ve held his undivided attention long after he succeeded in his depraved conquest. I’ve seen him shift, soften. I’ve made him bend to my will, agreeing to things that seemed impossible. If I’m being honest with myself, having this kind of influence over Gabriel is addictive. Empowering.

  But it’s also not helping with this dreadful feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “Me neither,” I manage to admit through a shaky voice. Never in a million years would I have expected to fall for this man, but he’s taken up permanent residence in my thoughts.

  He drops a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Get some rest. You’ve had a rough twenty-four hours.”

  I swallow the rising lump in my throat. “I’ll try.” Rest, and a chance to gather my conflicted thoughts.

  I watch him round the bed, biting my tongue against the urge to ask him to forget everything and everyone else and curl up with me in bed. When he’s around, nothing else matters. I don’t think. Right now I desperately need to not think.

  How much would it hurt him if I sold him out in exchange for my father?

  And what happens when a man like Gabriel is hurt like that?

  Betrayed like that.

  He pauses at the door. “I can get you an Ambien, if you want.” The corner of his mouth curls. “I wouldn’t mind another show.”

  I feel my cheeks flush at his teasing. “I flushed my prescription after that night. Jerk.”

  “That’s disappointing,” he murmurs dryly and then ducks out, shutting the door softly behind him.

  I feel his absence immediately.

  I wait a few moments before I dare dig out Agent Lewis’s business card from my purse, my impul
sive fingers itching to rip up the card and keep playing the clueless girlfriend who sees nothing, knows nothing, says nothing. Who has her own reasons for getting enmeshed with a man like Gabriel Easton. That woman doesn’t want Gabriel to go to jail. She doesn’t want him punished. She wants him to detangle himself from his family mess and find an honest path forward.

  With her.

  Is that even possible, or is she a damn fool?

  The practical side of me knows that I need to set aside my growing feelings for Gabriel, because where can things between us possibly go? I mean, he joked about eloping, and in two seconds I had a lengthy mental list of all the reasons he will never be marriage material. I’m only here in the first place because he’s a reprobate who saw my weakness and exploited it.

  I need to think about my father. Duncan Wheeler does not belong in prison.

  Gabriel does.

  And Justin DeHavilland may be the best of the best where pricey lawyers are concerned, but even he can’t guarantee a successful appeal for my dad. What if all the money in the world can’t give him his life back? What if Gabriel paying for his sins is the ticket to getting my father out?

  What if I don’t really have a choice here at all?

  With growing dismay, I tug at a loose seam in my wallet, making the hole just large enough that I can fold the card and slip it in for safekeeping.

  I pick my way down the stairs to the main floor, acutely aware of Farley’s observant gaze from his post by the elevator. I’d like to think it’s concern for my safety, but the electric-blue silk dress and silver five-inch heels likely have more to do with the attention. Michelle stuffed half her closetful of dresses into her suitcase for this trip—all of them equally short and scandalous.

  “They’re waiting for you outside,” Farley offers in a cartoonishly deep voice that I feel in the pit of my stomach.

  I offer him a polite smile before strolling through the sliding doors into soft music over the speakers and Michelle’s hysterical laughter by the lengthy outdoor bar. The dry August heat envelops me as I take in the expansive terrace and the hundred-and-eighty-degree view of the valley bathed in the setting sun.

  Caleb notices me first while taking a long drag of a cigarette. I don’t remember him smoking as much as he has been these last twenty-four hours. “Look who’s returned to the land of the living.” His hungry gaze is glued to my legs as I approach, and he’s not bothering to hide it. I can only imagine the kinds of filthy thoughts going through that man’s mind. He and his brother seem well in tune in that regard.

  Michelle, looking decadent in a shimmering gold dress that I’ve never seen before, swivels her barstool to face me. She’s beaming, whether because of the martini in her grasp or Caleb’s fingers stroking her shoulder with affection, I can’t be sure. “I knew that one would be perfect for you!”

  “As long as I don’t bend over.”

  “Please do.” Caleb winks at me with his good eye. The swelling has gone down in the other one, leaving him with a more palatable, albeit ugly, bruised appearance.

  “I went shopping. You like?” Michelle kicks her legs up to show off sparkly heels.

  “Love.” I ease onto a barstool. “Where’s Gabriel?” He came to check on me about an hour ago. I hadn’t slept a wink, my conscience spinning for hours, replaying the past weeks, hoping my heart could sink anchors into the ugly, depraved parts of him. But my mind just kept going back to his impish smile, the way our bodies move so well together, and how he’s somehow slowed the downward spiral that had taken over my life, how I feel like I finally have an ounce of control again.

  He ducked out without even attempting to climb on top of me, his thoughts seemingly occupied elsewhere. Likely on whatever he has cooking up with those Perri brothers.

  “He had to grab something downstairs. He should be back soon. So?” Caleb leaves his spot tucked in beside Michelle to round the bar. He holds up a shaker and an empty martini glass. “How dirty do you want it?”

  “Just a little dirty. And not too strong, please.” I haven’t eaten since this morning, and my appetite is nonexistent. I’m liable to be stumbling after my first sip.

  “Really? I’m surprised.” He reaches for the bottle of gin. “Gabriel said you like it really dirty.”

  My face flushes. “Does everything have to be a sexual suggestion with you?” At least he’s back to his easygoing playboy self.

  “Hey, I’m just trying to be a good guy and make you the best martini you’ve ever tasted,” he says with mock innocence.

  “Oh, oh, oh!” Michelle slaps the bar counter with excitement before tipping her glass back to polish off her drink. “Do your thing again!”

  Caleb quirks a brow. “My thing?”

  “Yes. Your thing.” She sets her glass out to be refilled.

  “I don’t know what thing you speak of.” He flips a tumbler in the air, catching it deftly.

  “Yes! That!” Michelle props her chin on her palm and regards Caleb with a drunken, dreamy gaze. “And you can make mine extra dirty this time.”

  “Extra?” he echoes, the beginnings of a sly smirk touching his lips.

  “Yeah. The dirtiest you’ve ever made.” Her eyes twinkle as she delivers that in a seductive voice.

  You have no idea what you’re in for, Michelle.

  With a boyish chuckle that softens the chiseled edges of his face, Caleb sets out making us a round of martinis, glasses and shakers spinning this way and that with skillful precision.

  “Someone’s been practicing their Tom Cruise moves,” I tease, though I’m impressed when he tosses the bottle of gin into the air and catches it by the neck. “How many of those have you broken?”

  “Too many to count.” Caleb reaches for the vermouth. “Gabe was so pissed when he figured out the insane breakage report was because of me and not the staff.” He spins the bottle once before pouring a shot. “He only lets me play with the bar well shit.”

  I spy the shelf behind him that holds several bottles. I don’t recognize the brand names. “The stuff you’re playing with now isn’t bar well.”

  “Come on, Mercy,” he drawls. “You know me well enough by now.”

  “Unfortunately.” The guy’s favorite morning pastime is indecent exposure.

  I know you won’t handle prison well.

  If the FBI is building a case against Gabriel, they’re also targeting his brother and partner in crime, which means I wouldn’t just be betraying Gabriel by working with them.

  A fresh wave of dread swirls in my stomach. Tucked away neatly beneath Caleb’s playboy charm is a man with a scalding temper. I’ve only seen glimpses of it—that night at Empire before they met with Merrick and Vince Perri; last night, as he was downing scotch and loading guns.

  What lengths would Caleb go to protect not only himself but his brother?

  What is he capable of?

  My eyes graze the handgun set on the edge of the bar. At least the safety’s on—my father taught me enough that I can identify the indicator—but it’s within easy reach.

  I’m so deep in thought that I don’t notice anyone approaching until a hand glides against my bare back, startling me enough that I jump.

  “Easy,” Gabriel purrs, pulling me backward into his body.

  I close my eyes and try to relax as he slips his arm around my waist, flattening his palm against my belly.

  “You still smell like chocolate.” He leans in to press hot lips against my neck. “You’re up for dinner?”

  Eating is the absolute last thing I can think of right now. “Something small, maybe?”

  “Whatever you feel like, babe.” Fingers hook my chin, guiding my face to his. “You look beautiful tonight.” Gabriel seems unfazed by our audience as his mouth captures mine in a slow, seductive kiss, his tongue slipping along the seam of my lips in a teasing stroke. It stirs an instant ache in my body, and I feel myself melting into his chest, wanting to skip dinner and the show and hid in the bedroom with him for the rest
of our trip.

  “Two martinis for the ladies. One lame missionary style”—Caleb sets a glass in front of me and then slides one toward Michelle, complete with three fat green olives on a spike—“and one so dirty, you’ll still feel it in the morning.”

  “Promises, promises.” Michelle makes a provocative show of popping all three olives into her mouth, earning Caleb’s groan and playful knuckle-bite.

  I distract myself from this little act of foreplay with a sip of my drink, turning my undivided attention back to Gabriel. “So, what have you been up to?”

  “This and that,” he answers evasively.

  “That doesn’t sound suspicious at all.” What time did their “guests” leave?

  He slips his hand into his pocket to pull out a small square black velvet box with Michelle’s family jewelry store insignia and holds it out for me.

  My stomach drops. “What is that?” Sharp accusation cuts into my tone. It looks a hell of a lot like a ring box. I glare at Michelle, who can’t contain her knowing grin. She’s in on this.

  Gabriel chuckles. “Relax, Mercy. It’s just a graduation gift.”

  “Damn, bro. I don’t think she has high hopes for you two.” Caleb sets a tumbler of something amber on the counter in front of Gabriel.

  “Yeah, I’m starting to get that vibe. Should I be worried?”

  “Open it!” Michelle demands, still giddy.

  With a mixture of apprehension and excitement, I crack open the lid. My jaw drops.

  “I remembered you noticing it when you came into the store last,” she says by way of explanation.

  “Well, yeah.” Of course I noticed it. The price tag on the stunning diamond paloma ring was mind-blowing. I couldn’t fathom anyone having that kind of disposable income. Her dad keeps a decoy of it in a special glass case in the wall. The real one, he keeps in the vault.

  Kept in the vault.

  Gabriel collects the piece from its secure resting spot and deftly slips it onto the middle finger of my left hand. “It fits perfectly.”

  “I can’t accept this,” I begin to say, stumbling over my words as I stretch my hand in front of me to regard the countless diamonds. It’s more beautiful than I imagined.