Fearless: Mob Boss Book Two (Volume 2) (16 page)

40

He sat on the beach below the house, rolling the rosary beads between his fingers and thinking about his mother. She wouldn’t call him a hypocrite for returning to the old habit in a time of trouble.

“That’s what faith is, Nico,”
she would say.
“The one thing that never fails if you hold tight enough.”

It was true in a way, which wasn’t to say it guaranteed a specific outcome. The rosary was still there after months away from it. The beads were smooth and cool in his hand, just like he remembered, the ritual as calming as the waves rushing toward his bare feet.

He looked out over the water. He couldn’t see the moon, but somewhere high above the earth, it lit enough of the sky to cast shimmering light over the surface of the sea. He felt strangely detached from the activity going on inside the house—the gathering of weapons and cameras, the loading of ammunition. Soon enough they would be on their way north to the South Bay, the string of beaches west of Los Angeles where Dante had been holding David. Nico would have a chance to redeem himself by saving David, and he would see it done, even if the aftermath meant leaving Angel for good.

She would have her brother, her family. It was what he wanted for her.

He felt the eventual loss of her like an ever-widening hole in his heart. The family was no place for her, and he didn’t delude himself into thinking saving David would change anything.

It would only be the beginning.

They would rescue Angel’s brother, but his kidnapping was only a symptom of a much bigger problem. There were many in the family—and in the Syndicate as a whole—that didn’t agree with Nico’s vision. That was obvious now, and he’d been foolish to discount the dissenters as a powerless minority.

Everyone makes mistakes, Nico.

It was something his father had said Nico when Nico fucked up, when he’d beaten himself up over every misstep. And of course, his father had been right. Nico wasn’t narcissistic enough to believe he was an exception. But acknowledging the mistake wasn’t enough.

That was something his father had taught him as well.

Once David was safe, Nico would need to rectify the bigger problem, and that would make things even more dangerous for Angel.

Would removing Dante from the equation make her safer? Undoubtedly. She would go back to her quiet life, maybe move someplace new, start over with her brother. It was a gift he would give her by killing Dante once and for all. Then she would be free.

He rolled the rosary beads between his fingers, searching for the words he hadn’t spoken in more than two years.

“Our father, who art in heaven…” he murmured.

Did he believe it? Fuck, he didn’t know. But it was worth a shot.

41

Angel found him on the beach, speaking softly to himself while he stared out over the water. She approached him slowly, wondering if he was angry. She’d pushed him in front of the men, had undermined his authority. She wouldn’t blame him if he was mad, but she couldn’t let that stop her from being there for David.

“Hey,” she said, dropping next to him on the sand.

“Hey.” He didn’t look at her, just kept staring out over the water.

She noticed his hand moving, and when she looked closer she saw that he was holding something in his palm, working it between his fingers. Mala beads? Unlikely. She thought of her own Catholic upbringing and realized he had been saying the rosary.

“Would you like me to leave you alone?” she asked.

He took her hand in his own. “No.”

She followed his gaze across the water. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m trying to protect you, Angel. That’s all I’m ever trying to do.”

“I understand that,” she said. “But I need to be there for my brother, and I guess that means our goals aren’t always aligned.”

He turned to look at her, his panther eyes piercing hers through the darkness. “You don’t trust me to save him.”

She shook her head. “There’s no one I trust more. I just…” She faltered, trying to find the words to explain.

“Continue,” he prompted.

“I just need to be there,” she said. “When you save him, I need to be there. And if something goes wrong…” She hardly dared to voice the fear. “I’ll want to be there then, too.”

“It’s a mistake,” he said stonily.

“Then it’s my mistake,” she snapped.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” he said tightly.

“Just because you disagree with me, doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” she said.

“In this case, I’m afraid it does.”

Anger swelled through her body. There were times when his Alpha male, domineering, know-it-all attitude was a turn on—but this was not one of them.

She stood, brushing the sand off her legs, bare under a long skirt. “Then I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

She headed for the path leading back to the house. She made it to the base of the staircase before she felt his hand on her arm. He spun her around, pinned her against a flat piece of rock that rose to the cliffs on Locke’s property.

“I don’t think you get it,” he said, his voice ragged, face only inches from hers.

“Get what?” She had to force the question from her mouth, force her brain to formulate the words. She was back in Nico’s orbit, struggling to maintain contact with the ground when the pull of his gaze, his hands, his body, threatened to set her loose in space.

He lowered his face to her neck, inhaling like an animal sniffing its prey, nuzzling the tender skin at her collarbone. “I can’t think straight when you’re around, Angel. Can’t worry about anyone but you. Can’t see anyone but you.”

Her head fell to the side, giving Nico better access to the side of her neck as he moved closer, insinuating one thigh between her legs until it pressed against her warmth.

“I… I’m sorry,” she said as he nipped at her ear, the heat of his breath sending a jolt of heat to her center.

“Sorry for what?” His voice was a growl. “For doing this to me?”

She gasped as he pressed his hard-on into her. Her belly tightened in response, and a swell of desire rolled through her.

“I don’t know,” she choked out as his hips ground into hers. She was nearing the point of no return; that familiar place with Nico where none of their differences mattered, where she couldn’t think about anything but the feel of him driving into her.

“For making me so fucking crazy about you that I can’t think straight?” he said, kissing his way across her cheek until he reached the corner of her mouth. “For making me want to walk away from everything but you?”

“I’m just sorry everything’s so… hard,” she said, trying to keep her focus on the conversation. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she knew it was important, but that part of her brain was so far away from the feel of Nico’s mouth on her skin, his knuckles brushing her cheek on their way down her neck.

“Oh, it’s hard alright,” he said, sliding his hands down the side of her body.

She felt the heat of his palms on her legs as he moved his hands under her skirt, lifting it on his way back up her body. The cool ocean air brushed against her bare skin as the fabric bunched around her waist. Then he was lifting her off the ground, wrapping her legs around his waist as he pressed her against the rock. They were in a world of their own making, sheltered from the house above by the craggy cliffs, the moonless night.

He positioned himself so his cock was pressed into the “V” between her legs, and she gasped at the exquisite torture of it. He was so close, his erection only separated from her heat by his jeans and the thin satin of her underwear.

She grabbed his ass and pressed him harder into her. He groaned, his breath a whisper against her lips in the moment before he captured her mouth with his.

There was no build to the kiss. He dove into her mouth like he did everything else; devouring, occupying, owning. There was no half-measure with Nico, and definitely not with her. He took the kiss deep, pressing his whole body into hers as he tasted her. She met his passion with a ferociousness of her own, sinking her hands into the silky hair at the back of his head while he pulled down her tank top, freed her breasts from her bra.

The air hit her already sensitive nipples, and she moaned as he cupped her breasts, thumbing one of the nipples while he gently pinched the other one.

He pulled his mouth from hers and bent his head, closing his lips over one of the tiny buds. The heat of it against her cool skin was like a stone thrown at her center, the desire rippling outward in waves. She arched her back, offering herself to him as she pushed her hips against the length of his shaft through his jeans.

She moved one hand between them as he sucked, the feel of his tongue against her erect nipple like a match to a flame. Reaching for the top button of his jeans, she freed his cock, reveling at the smoothness of it, hard and heavy with his need for her.

“Fuck, Angel,” he grunted, lifting his head to look at her. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Show me,” she said, stroking him, feeling him lengthen in her palm.

He lowered one hand between them and ripped away her underwear. Then he was right there, his cock hot and silky against the folds of her sex.

“Nico…” She pushed against him, seeking the connection, the moment when his head was poised at her entrance, the moment right afterwards when filled her.

“You want it?” He was grinding against her, his tip rubbing against her clit until she thought she might come before he ever entered her.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Please.”

“Please?” His voice low and laced with sex. “Don’t get polite on me now, Angel.”

She reached for him then, positioned him at her opening. “Shut up and fuck me, Nico.”

He growled, then plunged his tongue into her mouth as he thrust into her.

He pulled almost all the way out and drove into her again, her cries snatched by the sound of the waves rushing up the beach, the crashing of water against the rocky cliffs.

He cupped her ass, spreading her wider while she locked her legs around his waist, forcing him deeper. Then he was moving fast and sure inside of her, letting her feel the length of him every time he withdrew, every time he pushed into her again.

She was moving with him now, rocking in time to the primal ebb and flow of the ocean moving up the beach, retreating back into the ocean, the sounds of it mingling with their passion until they were one with the primitive forces of nature.

She felt the orgasm like a primordial tug at the center of her body, felt Nico getting bigger and harder as she grew tighter around him, her muscles contracting in the build up to finally letting go, the moment when she would they would tumble into the abyss together.

He took her hands, raised them over her head, held them against the rock. She felt the cold stone against her skin in contrast to the heat of Nico’s body against her own. She was stretched out, every inch of her body, every secret corner, open to him as he drove into her again and again.

“Oh, god,” she gasped. “I can’t…”

“Come for me, baby,” he said. “Come for me.”

She looked into his eyes. “You come for me, Nico.”

He growled, thrusting into her with even more force until she came apart in his hands, tumbling over the precipice all at once, feeling him fall with her. She bit down on his shoulder, trying to muffle the cries she couldn’t contain as she shuddered again and again around him, the orgasm going on and on. He didn’t stop moving inside her until he’d wrung every last tremor from her body.

He slumped against her, his head falling against her shoulder while their breathing slowly returned to normal. Finally, he raised his head, looked into her eyes.

“I have to keep you safe, Angel,” he said. “I have to.”

42

They were on the road just after midnight; Angel, Nico, Luca, and Sara in one of the SUVs while Elia, Marco, Mattia, and Aldo followed in another. Angel watched Orange County pass on the other side of the window, lights casting pools of color across the pavement. Everything looked different at night. Darker, like the gloss had been rubbed off a shiny photograph. They pulled off the freeway in Hawthorne, then made their way west toward the beach.

She wanted to be excited. If all went well, she would be back together with David in just a few hours. But it was the “if all went well” part that scared her. There was a lot that had to happen between now and any moment when she had David back.

And a lot that could go wrong.

Nico’s hand closed over hers across the console of the car. “You okay?”

She nodded. Already their moment on the beach seemed a lifetime away. She wanted to go back. To let Nico’s body cover hers—the only time she really felt safe. But she couldn’t hide behind Nico. Not now, and not after David was rescued. She would have to stand on her own two feet, and she wouldn’t be able to do it beside Nico. Her responsibility was to David. And to keep David safe, she would have to distance herself from Nico.

It was after two am as they made their way toward Hermosa Beach, the streets nearly empty, other cars few and far between. The witching hour. Isn’t that what they called it? It seemed strangely appropriate, and she wondered suddenly what it meant, where the figure of speech had come from.

She watched Locke’s second SUV in the rearview mirror. They were all in it now, for better or worse. She felt the weight of it. All these people, trying to save her brother. Was this what it was like for Nico, day in and day out? Knowing that one mistake, one doomed operation, could cost his men—and women like Sara—their lives? How did he stand it?

She shook her head. She was being stupid. Nico and his men did what they did by choice. Sara, too. It wasn’t the same as she and David becoming pawns in a greedy game of chess. She had always been honest with herself about Nico, about what he did and who he was. It hadn’t stopped her from loving him, from wanting him, but she hadn’t been a liar at least. She wouldn’t start now.

The breeze coming in through the window changed as they got closer to the beach. It smelled like Locke’s house, like sea and salt and moisture in the air. They must be close.

Nico turned right on the Esplanade and headed north. They traveled about a half a mile, past apartment buildings, hip sushi restaurants, and a pier that jutted out into the darkness, lights illuminating the water on either side. Finally, Nico turned into a tiny alley, checking in his mirror to make sure the other SUV was still following. They pulled into an empty carport, and Nico turned off the car.

“The house is farther down the Strand,” he said. “I don’t want to park too close. We’ll gear up here.”

They got out and moved to the back of the SUV. Elia, Marco, Aldo, and Mattia got out of the second car, parked alongside the carport. Dressed head to toe in black, the men looked like the criminals they were—either that or like the kind of men who took down criminals. Maybe both. She could tell from their easy movements that this wasn’t the first time they’d been deployed on this kind of mission.

“Keep it down,” Nico said softly. “It’s late.”

They nodded, and Nico opened the trunk. Angel had recognized the two duffel bags when the men loaded them up, but they didn’t scare her now. She just hoped their contents did more good this time than they had at the museum.

Nico unzipped one of the bags and extracted a heavy duty laptop. He handed it to Sara, and she opened the computer in the back of the SUV and started tapping at the keys. While she worked, Nico passed out tiny headsets to the men. After they’d put them in their ears, Nico handed each man a black piece of plastic, which they all proceeded to clip to their shirts. A moment later, a grainy image appeared on the laptop.

“Got you,” Sara said.

Angel peered over her shoulder. It took her a few seconds to orient herself to the image on the screen. Then she got it; she was looking at Nico’s face and chest, projected from the camera clipped to Luca’s shirt.

Sara hit a few more keys, and five more boxes appeared on the screen, each of them broadcasting from one of the body cams.

“All present and accounted for,” she murmured, shutting the laptop.

“Good,” Nico said, turning his attention to the second bag.

A mini-arsenal was inside—big, scary looking weapons that Angel thought must be semi-automatics from Locke’s stash. Nico handed one gun to each of the men, then surprised Angel by handing one to Sara.

“She’s as well trained as the men,” Nico explained when he saw the expression on Angel’s face.

She glanced at Sara, who just shrugged. She had never said she wasn’t trained like the men who worked in the field. In fact, it made sense that she would be; Nico left nothing to chance. He wouldn’t allow anyone on his team—male or female—who couldn’t hold his or her own. Still, Angel felt strangely betrayed, like she’d just found out her best girlfriend was an undercover spy when the truth is, she didn’t know Sara at all, and she was probably a lot closer to a spy than a garden variety computer geek.

Nico handed out extra ammunition, then finished by handing out wicked looking knives and night vision goggles. By the time he was done, Angel’s nerves were strung tight. The show of force represented by the weapons gave her the feeling this wasn’t going to be an easy mission. More like a full on assault.

“Obviously, we want to go in and get out as quietly and as quickly as possible,” Nico said, looking at the others. “But the number one imperative is to get David Bondesan out alive. That will be my job, as we discussed. The rest of you lock down the house. Quietly. The houses are too fucking close together, and we don’t have enough clout out here to keep it quiet like we could in New York.”

“What about Santoro?” Luca asked.

His voice was too even. Angel was scared by the cold fury in it. It was like falling down the rabbit hole all over again; she was surrounded by men who were as chivalrous as they were deadly, who’s capacity for violence was measured not by their lack of control, but by the measure of calm a situation forced them to exercise. A world where the time to be scared was not when one of them was mindless with anger, but when they were brought to quiet stillness by their rage.

“Santoro is mine,” Nico said flatly. “And this time it will get done right.”

She should have been shocked, even disgusted. She knew what Nico meant. Knew that this time, he would kill Dante. But she was surprised to find that she didn’t care. The world would be better off without him.

People will show you who they are if you listen.

She heard her father’s voice, registered with detachment the alteration in her character. It was entirely justified, she thought coldly. Nico would take care of Dante, and he would never hurt someone like he’d hurt David. She would think later about what it meant that she had come to this place. Right now all that mattered was getting David out alive.

Nico put the empty duffel bag in the trunk and handed the one with the laptop to Sara. Then he removed a key from his pocket and handed that to her as well.

“You know the address?”

She nodded.

“The house is empty, but keep the lights off in case a neighbor’s watching.” His gaze flickered to Angel. “And don’t let her out of your sight.”

He withdrew a pistol from the holster strapped to his body. “This is the same gun you fired at Locke’s range,” he said. “Remember; keep the safety on, and don’t point it unless you mean to shoot.”

She nodded, and he gave it to her handle first. She wrapped her hands around it without hesitation, grateful for the cold weight of it.

He looked at her for what seemed like too long given the circumstance, then slipped his hands into the hair at the back of her head, crushed his lips to hers.

“I’m going to get him out,” he said. “But you stay put no matter what.” He looked at the men. “Let’s go.”

They turned away and were swallowed by the night seconds later.

“Come on,” Sara said softly. “We need to get into position, too.”