I had very little to work with, and this seemed like as good an excuse as any.
Tom’s brows dipped into a V. “I read your hospital report. You don’t suffer from amnesia.”
“Selective amnesia,” I amended.
“Selective bullshit,” he snapped back, his jaw clenching.
The air between us scorched with tension, but it wasn’t sexual. More like we both knew he wanted to throttle me.
The Ferrantes really were in trouble. This guy was a dog with a bone.
“You don’t want to get on my shit list, Miss Callaghan.”
“What happens to people who find themselves there?” I purred, making a show of shimmying my shoulders. Life was too short to be intimidated by egotistical men in positions of power.
His nose very nearly brushed mine when he whispered, “If they’re lucky? I put them in prison.”
“And if they’re unlucky?”
He just smiled. Every bone in my body turned to ice. This bastard was more formidable than any mobster I’d come across.
Wanting some distraction, I turned back around and poured his coffee with shaking hands. By some miracle, I only spilled a few drops on the counter. I passed him his cup. “Here you go.”
Tom took the cup from me, downed the hot coffee like a shot, and handed it back to me, leaning into my personal space.
“Don’t keep me waiting, Callaghan,” he whispered sardonically into my ear, his lip brushing my lobe. “Deception is not a trait I tolerate well.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Achilles
No partof me wanted to leave Tierney and go to Naples to deal with Coppola.
No part andespeciallynot my cock. It’d been almost a week since she’d moved in, and true to her word, she slept in the spare room.
At least she was seeing Dr. Andrews. And I was seeing Dr. Clark. With a little luck (and a lot of fucking therapy), we’d be having a healthy relationship in no time.
“You’ll take care of yourself, right?” Tierney tapped the wheel of my car, munching on her bottom lip. No one, including God himself, was allowed to drive my custom Porsche 550 Spyder. Which put Tierney above God tier. This woman was in the habit of making me break every word and promise I’d ever made to myself.
“Always do.” I reached for my backpack, going over my stash of weapons and magazines.
For the first time since I was eighteen, I was reluctant to insert myself into a bloodbath. What if I didn’t make it back to New York? The thought of being so close to having Tierney just to die a senseless death made my skin crawl. “Why? You worried about me?”
“Of course I’m worried. You’re my nephew’s favorite uncle,” she snarled.
“If Tom Rothwell pays you another visit?—”
“I’ll exercise my Second Amendment rights. He won’t break into our place again.”
Our. She saidour. My chest tightened.
A heart attack? Maybe. Still worth it.
“That’s my girl. And you’re sure I can’t persuade you to have security, just until I get back from Italy?”
“Positive,” she ground out. “You’re not keeping me in chains anymore, Achilles.”
I had no one but myself to blame for the fact Tierney didn’t have security up the wazoo while I was in Italy, finishing a bloody war. I did this to myself, by pushing her for years and surveilling her every move. Now I had to remind myself she was a big girl, not an innocent, helpless damsel like Lila or Sofia. She could take down grown men without smearing her lipstick.
