My hand finds his. Our fingers thread together. I can tell he doesn’t want to do anything more right now, even though I know he’s still hard.
It worries me. I thought this was connection. It was, I guess, but it’s not enough, not on its own.
I lift my hips, and Roman fixes my pants, then I sit up. Sitting on the counter brings my face almost level with his. I lean forward and rest my face against the crook of his neck. He pets my hair.
“I love you,” I whisper.
His hand splays on my head, holding me against him. He’s saying that he loves me too.
Words have gotten hard for him again. He hasn’t spoken since I told him not to leave me. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but how could I not have?
When the electric kettle clicks off, Roman draws away from me. He’s only gone a few steps before he freezes, instantly alert. His body language completely changes, and his gaze cuts through the open doorway into the sitting room. My scalp prickles at his sudden predatoriness. I haven’t seen it for a while, not like this. I trust him so completely that I’d almost forgotten how dangerous he can be.
Then I hear it too: a raised voice coming from far off. From downstairs, I think.
Roman motions for me to come to him. I slide off the counter. As I reach him, he indicates for me to follow.
My heart pounds as we leave the kitchen and move through the dark sitting room. We reach the stairway to the lowest level, but I don’t hear anything now. We creep down the stairs.
Light is glowing along the bottom edge of a door. I can’t tell which room it is until we’re close and I hear voices again. They’re sharp, arguing.
I sag with relief. “It’s just Vitali and Quinn,” I say, but Roman doesn’t stop. He doesn’t break down the door, but he does throw it open.
I hear wordless shouts then Quinn barking, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ!”
I peer around the edge of the doorframe to see Quinn lowering a gun. My heart jumps. Thank god he didn’t just fire.
Roman’s gaze sweeps across the office. He’s still looking for threats. He switched into his predatory mode so easily, so instantly, but it’s harder for him to switch back out of it.
Vitali says, “It’s just us, Roman.” His voice is sharp. He didn’t like being startled.
Quinn didn’t like it either, and I watch him struggle with his temper as he sets the gun on Vitali’s desk.
As I step into the office behind Roman, his arm sweeps out and hooks me around behind him.There’s no danger here, and maybe I should be embarrassed to be so submissive with Roman, but I love his protectiveness, even when it’s not needed. There’s some deep, sore part of me that’s always soothed by it.
“What’s going on?” Roman demands.
I relax somewhat at his words. He’s speaking. He’s calming down.
“We’re just discussing something,” Vitali replies, still with an edge in his voice.
I hear the evasiveness and feel like we should leave. I feel like we’ve walked into something personal. Roman, however, just waits.
Quinn glances at Vitali, and that’s when I realize that Roman has read something in his brother that I missed. With the distance I often sense between the two of them, it’s easy to forget what a long history, a lifelong history, they actually have.
Vitali is keeping something from Roman, and Quinn’s glance says that he thinks Vitali should tell him.
Vitali catches that too and isn’t pleased. He exhales irritably to make sure Quinn knows that, but he gives in.
“Gavino DiMaggio went into the hospital two days ago,” Vitali says, “but he just got transferred home with a crew of nurses. Word is, he doesn’t have long. And that means Alesso, who hasn’t been seen in months, will likely be drawn out of hiding. When that happens, I want to grab him.”
Roman takes that in. The longer Roman is silent, the tenser Vitali gets. I don’t understand what’s passing unspoken between them, but I don’t like it.
Finally, Roman asks, “Why not just kill Alesso?” His tone is sharp, which I’m not used to hearing from him. Harsh, yes. Sharp, no. He’s angry but in a different way than I’m used to.
“Things have gotten more complicated,” Vitali says with obvious reluctance. “That big fucker who showed up at Arete the other night is Paulo DiMaggio. He’s a nephew of Gavino, cousin of Alesso. The reason none of us recognized him is that he’s been on the outs with the family for something like twenty years. I guess he did some fucked-up shit here. Sick shit. So he’s been in Chicago working freelance. I don’t have much intel on that, but it sounds like mostly hits.
“Gavino bringing him in is obviously desperation. Regardless,we need to get rid of Paulo before he takes too much control of the DiMaggio operation—which he will undoubtedly do as soon as Gavino’s gone.”
