Lady and the Champ (34 page)

Settled in the dress, I take a long look at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. I look good, I have to admit, but at the same time I don’t want to leave the house in this. Because I can tell it’s all part of Nick’s agenda.

He wants us to be noticed.

And we are, from about five seconds after we walk in the front door of Lloyd’s. Nick hands a few bills to the maître d’, and we’re led to a table that’s far too centrally located for my tastes. There’s no way anybody will overlook us, here smack in the middle of the dining room, me in my bright-red dress and Nick smirking like he’s the cat that ate all the canaries.

I can feel attention shifting to us almost before we get seated. I stare fixedly at the menu, not daring to look up to see who might be watching, not even daring to look up at Nick.

Nick pulls the top of my menu down with one finger, smiling at me. “Don’t worry, Sarah. It’ll be all right. Trust me.”

Right. Trust him. What the hell was I thinking, letting him talk me into this craziness? I slide my eyes sidelong and see a couple of guys I’ve seen before at Sal’s place. They’re muttering to each other, then one of them pulls his phone out and starts poking buttons. It’s only a matter of time before everybody knows.

Including Sal.

“Do you know what you want?” Nick asks, pulling my attention back to him. “Or would you like me to order for both of us?”

I can barely see the words on the menu, I’m getting so worked up. I feel like I’m starting to hyperventilate. “You can pick.”

“All right, then. Steak or fish?”

“Fish.” I don’t think I could stomach a steak right now. I’m not even sure I can manage fish.

The waiter joins us, and Nick orders wine and some kind of appetizer. I’m not really listening. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s just waiting for Sal to walk in the door. I’m queasy, bile burning at the back of my throat. The slightest movement anywhere near the door makes adrenaline soak through me.

Nick, though, sweeps his gaze across the room and offers a smile and a nod to someone. He picks up his napkin, unfolds it, and lays it across his lap. I’ve never seen anybody so cool and collected. I take a long, slow breath, telling myself, if he can be calm then I can, too.

The waiter brings the wine, pours it, takes our food order, and departs. Nick lifts his glass, offering me a toast.

“To our new family,” he says.

And that’s when Sal shows up.

I see the ruckus starting out of the corner of my eye as I move my glass toward Nick’s. Automatically I glance that way. There are about four men near the front of the restaurant, holding on to Sal, who’s struggling with them. His jacket’s about half off, his tie askew as he tries to tear himself free. All eyes go toward him, even those that were overly focused on Nick and me just minutes earlier.

Sal finally starts calming down, gathering himself, as if he’s realized he’ll never get all the way into the restaurant if he doesn’t stop acting like a psycho. He exchanges words with the maître d’, who finally nods and waves to the men to let Sal go. Straightening his tie and shrugging his jacket back into place, Sal heads for our table.

I freeze. I don’t know what to do; I’m like a deer caught in the headlights. Sal’s calmer on the outside, but I can see the anger and the hatred in his eyes. His jaw is clenched. Automatically I shrink back, but Nick leans over the table and kisses me. “It’ll be okay,” he says and then stands, shooting his cuffs as he faces the oncoming Sal. He looks deadly calm. It’s sexy, and I can’t believe I’m thinking that way right now.

“Can I help you?” Nick asks, but Sal’s not looking at him. All the hatred in his eyes is focused right on me.

“Sarah, you need to come with me. Right now.”

Automatically my eyes go to Nick. Nick’s not looking at me—he’s looking at Sal—but the fact I turned to him seems to have lit another fuse on Sal’s temper. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, his gaze flicking from me to Nick and back again. One hand balls into a fist.

“She’s not going with you,” Nick tells him.

“I’m not talking to you, asshole,” Sal shoots back. He faces me again. “Come with me. Now. Or it’s over. All of it. And you know exactly what I mean.”

Yes, I do know exactly what he means. Still, I shake my head. “No.”

“No?” Sal actually laughs at me. “You’re telling me no?”

Nick moves very slightly, positioning himself almost between me and Sal’s line of sight. Protective. Regardless, I don’t feel safe.

“That’s what I heard her say. Now, maybe you should leave.”

“I’m not leaving without my
fiancée
.” Sal practically spits the word. It’s nothing but a term of ownership to him; it has nothing to do with any feelings he might have for me.

“She’s not your fiancée anymore, De Luca.” Nick crosses his arms over his shoulders and stands there, legs slightly apart, looking like a big, handsome brick wall. “She’s mine now. So you can turn around and get the fuck out.”

“Yours?” Sal’s almost screaming now. “
Yours
? Who the fuck do you think you are, Angelino? You saw me put a ring on her finger. You know better than to touch what’s not yours.”

“You see a ring on her finger now?” Nick is icy calm. Sal’s mouth hardens when he catches a glimpse of my bare finger. Self-consciously I fold my hands together, covering my ring finger. I haven’t thought much about what happened to the ring, but now I feel naked under Sal’s scrutiny.

Nick notices the exchange but keeps his focus on Sal. “Now, we’re trying to have a date here, and you’ve rudely interrupted.”

I see a movement out of the corner of my eye. It’s the restaurant manager, easing toward us, looking like he’d rather be trying to fish a dead rabbit out of a cage full of tigers. “Excuse me. Is something wrong? May I help either of you gentlemen?”

Sal wheels on him and shoves him, hard, with his forearm. The manager staggers back. “Yeah. You can get the fuck out of here and go mind your own fucking business, is what you can do.”

The manager loses his balance and falls backward into a table, where the patrons catch him and get him back onto his feet. He stares at Sal and Nick, obviously trying to figure out what to do. Behind him, the woman at the table pulls out her cell phone. I see her poking the screen; she’s calling 9-1-1.

Sal wheels back toward me, but Nick’s between me and him, and I’m happy to keep it that way. Fists clenched and half raised, Sal takes a stalking step toward Nick.

“You really want to do that?” Nick’s voice is so calm. “Pretty sure the police are on their way. I’ve seen at least a half-dozen people calling 9-1-1.”

His fists opening and closing now, Sal glances from side to side. Everybody in the restaurant is watching us, and, yes, I’ve seen quite a few of them calling the cops. I’m surprised I don’t hear any sirens yet. Then again, sometimes the cops around here will wait before they head for a mob hangout, to give those involved time to work things out on their own. Everybody’s a little safer that way, most of the time.

Nick just waits. Sal takes a step back. For a second I think he’s actually going to back down, but then he jumps Nick, his fist headed straight for Nick’s face.

Nick ducks. It’s only after Sal’s fist has hissed past his jaw that Nick retaliates, landing a solid punch right to Sal’s gut. Sal doubles over, and Nick goes after him, hit after hit, until a couple of Sal’s men finally intervene. Now, finally, I hear sirens.

It doesn’t take much to get Nick off Sal. I think Nick was waiting for the other guys to move in and drag him off. Now that they have, he’s happy to leave Sal be. A couple of policemen appear toward the front of the restaurant, asking what’s going on. After a quick discussion with the maître d’, they head toward us.

Nick takes a step back as Sal’s men release him. He straightens his jacket, shoots his cuffs, and sits back down at the table.

Then, of all things, he winks at me. “Nothing like a little entertainment with dinner, huh?”

 
I
wake
up the next morning feeling pretty damn good. I feel even better when I see Sarah curled up next to me, all pink, bare skin and tousled hair. She’s asleep, but she’s got her arms folded around herself as if for protection. That bothers me. She should feel safe here.

I shift toward her, feeling her warmth. It’s nice waking up with someone else in your bed. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that. Usually women aren’t in my bed much longer than it takes for me to get my rocks off, and then they go home. But I want Sarah here. Just looking at her reminds me of what I’ve accomplished—taking her right from under Sal’s nose, making her mine.

Fucking my baby inside her.

I wonder how long it’ll be before she’s knocked up. Seems like a few weeks, at least, although I’m not sure. I’ve always been more concerned about making sure a woman’s
not
pregnant, so I haven’t thought all that much about what it takes to be sure she is. I don’t think even a doctor would know this soon.

I have a feeling, though. The way she responded to me, the way it felt when I came inside her—I just have a gut feeling I’ll be seeing her grow thick and heavy with my child over the next few months.

The thought makes me smile. I reach toward her, tracing my fingers over her shoulder. Her skin is so soft. I don’t really want to wake her, but on the other hand I do, because I want her under me again—want to be inside her again.

She shifts a little, but it’s to curl closer around herself.

“Oh, no, that won’t do at all, baby,” I murmur, and stroke her shoulder again. This time it’s a little more forceful—just a little—moving her more toward me and opening that hunched body. She needs to learn to trust me even when she’s sleeping.

She makes a small sound. I’d think she’s protesting, but she’s obviously not awake. I keep stroking her, moving her, shifting her shoulders and her arms so she’s more open to me. After a while I bend to kiss her face, her shoulders, her belly.

Finally I look up, and her eyes are open. She’s regarding me under partially lowered lashes, her expression neutral. I want to see her smile. Better, I want to hear her scream out my name.

“Good morning,” I tell her, and lick from her belly button up to between her breasts. “Feeling okay?”

She nods but says nothing. Doesn’t move. Just lies there watching me. I wonder if she’s completely awake.

Then one hand lands on the back of my head, her fingers combing into my hair, and I know she’s both awake and willing.

Encouraged, I kiss up from between her breasts to her nipples, laving them with my tongue, suckling, then nipping.

“Nick…” I like hearing my name on her lips. She says it again. “Nick…”

I don’t answer, my mouth busy on her breast, sucking its softness deep. Her nipple is hard against my tongue. Her fingers dig into my scalp, pushing me closer.

We’re both already naked, which is handy. Her body is warm and soft, and as I ease myself over her, she fits against me like she’s meant to be there. I finally release her breast and kiss farther up, across her chest, her collarbones, finally to her mouth. She opens to me, letting my tongue come deep. I stroke then thrust into her mouth. Her thighs fall open under me, and I move between them.

Reaching down between us, I tease her clit with my fingers and thumb, feeling it harden and swell under my touch. Her belly begins to shiver, and again I wonder if my seed has rooted there, the cells beginning to grow into the beginning of what will be my son. Under my fingers, she’s wet and ready, so slick and hot.

“Yes,” she whispers. “Nick, please.”

Her thighs press against my sides as my hips fall farther down between her legs. My cock’s resting right against her entrance, ready to move inside her at the slightest shift. No, there’ll be no condom this time, either. I’ll fuck her bare until I’m sure she’s carrying my baby.

She’s come to understand that this is her side of the bargain, apparently, because her heels press against the small of my back, pushing me closer. The head of my cock slides on her moisture, bringing it closer to the penetration I’m craving. But I need to be sure she’s ready.

Ignoring my dick for the moment—not the easiest thing to do—I slip my fingers inside her instead, rubbing, thrusting, letting her wetness cover my hand. She stiffens, her hips pulsing up toward me. Never taking my gaze from her face, I let my thumb rub a circle around her clit.

“Come for me, Sarah,” I whisper, and she does, right on command. Her hands clutch at my shoulders, her whole body shaking under the force of the orgasm. “Good girl. Good. Keep going…”

I keep rubbing, keep teasing until her back arches and her head presses into the pillow. She’s clenching on my hand, the muscles tight and pulsing. Finally, as the spasms ease, I slide my fingers free.

“Now?” I murmur.

“Now.”

And I move inside. My cock moves deep into her in a slow thrust. I close my eyes, feeling every inch of her around me. Her body milks me, squeezing, releasing. She’s tight, like a fist. The tightness makes me take her faster, harder, until finally I’m fucking her into the mattress, hearing the bed thump against the wall with each pounding thrust.

She’s so quiet I wonder if she’s feeling anything at all now, but when I look into her face I see her teeth clamped on her lower lip, her head tipped back as she rides whatever wave has taken her over. And then, suddenly, she explodes into another orgasm, clenching so tight on me I can’t hold back anymore, either. I pump into her and release, sending hot seed deep against the mouth of her womb.

It’s a long, suspended moment, both of us caught in it, and as I’m watching her face her eyes open and meet mine. She smiles.

I smile back and then I almost laugh. Her smile becomes a question on her face, but I just shake my head and let my face fall to her shoulder.

We’re quiet like that for a few seconds, then she rolls away from me, lying on her side with her back against my chest. I wrap my arms around her, spooning her and stroking her hair. She’s still shaking a little from her orgasm, but there’s a tension in her back that makes me think she’s got her mind on something I’d rather she didn’t.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, tracing a finger down the length of her spine.

“I’m still…” She breaks off and then shakes her head. “Never mind.”

“You’re still worried about Sal.” I’d rather not hear his name, much less speak it, but I’d also prefer that she be honest with me about what’s bothering her.

She nods. “He’s not going to let this go.”

“I told you I’d take care of it.”

“It’s just getting worse. After what happened at the restaurant, he probably wants to kill us both.”

“I’m sure he does. But I’m going to beat him to that punch.”

She rolls over, her face pale. “You’re going to kill him?”

“You act like that surprises you.” It shouldn’t. She’s been in this world long enough to understand how we sort out our differences. Sometimes it comes to bloodshed. That’s just the way it is.

“I just… I guess I just wish it didn’t have to come to that.”

“Are you telling me you have feelings for him?” I’m pretty sure she doesn’t, but again, best to get the air clear.

“Of course I have feelings for him,” she says, surprising me, but she adds, “all of them bad. I hate him, Nick. Seriously. But it bothers me that you’d kill him.”

“What do you expect me to do? Try to make nice?”

“I guess not, but…” She trails off. I can tell she’s trying to reconcile things in her head and not having much luck with it. It’s hard, coming into this world from the outside. Or at least I suppose it must be. I’ve never had that experience.

“I’m not going to kill him outright,” I explain, not sure even that will ease her mind. “I’m going today to get permission from Spada.”

“Permission to kill him?” Her eyes are wide again.

“Yeah. It’s the way it’s done. That’s why I let him hit me first last night. He attacked me. Now I have a case. Next step—I go to Spada. He gives me permission, I take Sal out—chances are good Spada makes me his second.”

She shrinks away from me a little. “That’s what this is all about? You’re planning to kill a man for a promotion?”

I can see how that might seem a little unpleasant. “That’s not all it is, Sarah. This is part of protecting you. He’s not going to forget what I did to him. I made him look like an idiot in front of his men. In front of everybody. He’s not going to stop coming after you. I kill him, you’re safe, and you’re mine. Plain and simple.”

She’s silent for a long few seconds. Then, finally, she nods. “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it.” I pull her against me, stroking her hair, trying to take some of the sting out of my words. She lets me hold her. “I don’t have to like it, either. It’s just the way it is, and it’s the best way for me to keep you safe.” Kissing the top of her head, I breathe in her scent. “Now, I’ve got to get going, so how about I treat you to breakfast before I head off?”

She looks at me like she thinks she might never see me again. Then she nods and gets up to get dressed.

* * *

I
’m feeling pretty
damn sure of myself by the time I arrive at the restaurant where Spada told me to meet him. I’d gotten the impression it would be a mostly informal lunch, me airing my grievances, him listening and then granting me free rein in regard to Sal. When I get there, though, I’m escorted to a reserved room in the back, much larger than what would be necessary for just Spada and I to talk.

Sure enough, there’s a big table in the back room, and there are about a half dozen of his men occupying the seats. And, sitting right next to Spada…

Sal comes to his feet just as I walk into the room, obviously as taken aback by my presence as I am by his. Before I can quite process the fact he’s here, Sal’s in my face, fists up. I’m barely able to move fast enough to duck the blow he swings at me. Behind him, Spada comes to his feet as well.

“The fuck, De Luca!” I grab his forearm as he tries to hit me again.

“It’s over, Angelino,” Sal snarls back. “You’re going to pay for what you did.”

I twist his arm behind his back and focus on Spada. “What the fuck is this? You didn’t say anything about him being here.”

Spada stands, calm. Behind him, a couple of his men also come to their feet, the bulge of firearms clear beneath their suit jackets.

“Both of you, sit,” Spada says.

I don’t want to, but with it being a direct order, I don’t have much choice. I shoot Sal one last glare then take the seat Spada waves me to. At least he doesn’t sit Sal down right next to me.

“Now,” Spada starts when Sal and I have both taken our seats, “I’m tired of this bullshit.”

Again, not what I was expecting. Trying not to look angry or, worse, sullen, I lean into the table and wait for him to continue. Sal looks like he’s on the verge of a full-fledged pout. I clench one fist under the table, the other hand loose on top of it as I try to maintain my composure.

Spada never loses his. He smoothes his tie and regards both of us evenly. “You, Angelino, are asking for my blessings to eliminate De Luca because he attacked you, am I correct?”

“Yes,” I answer steadily.

“And you, De Luca, want permission to eliminate Angelino because, what? He stole your girlfriend?”

“My fiancée,” Sal snaps back. “He kidnapped her from our engagement party.”

Spada turns to me. “Is this true, Angelino?”

“She came of her own accord.” I give Sal a smug grin. “No kidnapping required.”

“You motherfucking piece of shit,” Sal growls back, then Spada lifts a hand.

“I said enough.” One of his men has laid a hand on the butt of his gun. Spada gives him a meaningful look, and the man lowers his hand with a slight nod. Spada turns back to Sal and me. “Angelino, I understand your case, but there’s no way in hell you’re killing De Luca.”

“Sir—”

“No. That’s my final word on the subject. Sal makes too much of a profit for this organization for me to allow you to end him over this petty bullshit. So he hit you. Man up and get over it. And you…” He swings toward Sal, who’s building up a smirk of his own. “If you can’t keep your own woman under control then you deserve to lose her.”

“Sir, you can’t expect me to just accept what he did—”

“Enough, De Luca.” Spada’s voice remains calm. “Maybe if you’d held on to your temper at the restaurant, kept your hands off Angelino, then maybe I’d consider it. But you attacked him, and Angelino’s also an important part of this organization, and I depend on his earnings, so I’m denying your petition as well.”

So that’s it. Neither one of us can eliminate the other without the wrath of Spada coming down on our heads. The question is, how much will the wrath of Spada mean in the near future? That particular currency has been on a decline for a while.

Spada’s not done. In fact, he’s turned back to me. “Now, this doesn’t mean I condone what you did, Angelino. You should know better. And with the problems we’ve got developing, which are putting this organization in much more danger than I’m comfortable with, the last thing I need is an internal squabble like this. So I expect the two of you to at least lay off, if you can’t bring yourselves to make peace.”