Lawless: Mob Boss Book Three (18 page)

T
he sand was
soft under her sandals as Angel stopped at one of the market stands to admire a swath of green silk.

“Ini adalah indah.” Angel spoke in Balinese to the elderly woman manning the kiosk.

“Terima kasih. Itu di desa saya,” the woman replied.

“Harganya berapa?” Angel asked, running the soft fabric between her fingers.

“Dua puluh tujuh tiga puluh tiga rupiah.” The woman’s face was grave as she quoted the price. Negotiating in Bali was serious business.

Angel nodded, handing over the appropriate bills.

Their agreement reached, the woman’s face broke into a wide smile. “Keputusan yang baik.”

A good decision.

Angel returned her smile and scanned the beach in the distance. Tourists mixed with locals, spread out on the sand and playing in the water, their bathing suits and umbrellas and towels dotting the landscape like the prayer flags strung throughout Bali’s landscape. A gentle breeze drifted in off the water, caressing the skin of her shoulders, bare under her tank top, lifting the edges of her long skirt and the loose tendrils of her hair.

A good decision indeed.

She placed the bundle of fabric inside her bag and gave the woman one more smile before turning her attention back to the market. She walked slowly, in no particular hurry. She would go back to the cottage soon, cut up some of the fresh fruit she’d bought for lunch. Later, she and Nico would go to the orphanage where David volunteered his time. Maybe he would finally tell Angel about his love for the soft-eyed Balinese boy who worked there with him.

She was almost to the end of the market when she caught sight of a man moving toward her. He wore linen pants and a loose shirt, the easy flow of the clothes only providing a hint of the strength and muscle that lay under the fabric.

And in his heart.

Nico…

He was a warrior. He’d saved her life. Maybe even her soul.

His eyes were shaded with sunglasses, but she knew the instant he saw her, saw it in the lift of his mouth, the smile that was meant only for her. He moved more quickly, anxious to get to her, and she felt the tug of her body to his. But now there was something else.

The tug of her spirit to his, her heart.

They belonged together. They always had.

She met him halfway, then reached down to touch the bundle cradled in the fabric against his chest.

Their daughter.

Angel touched the soft fuzz of the baby’s head, lowered her lips and inhaled her familiar, sweet scent. She was all the more precious for the fear Angel had felt in Rome when she thought she might have lost her. They had rushed Angel to the hospital, run a little instrument over her belly until they’d heard the soft locomotive of the baby’s heartbeat.

Choo… choo… choo…

Nico had lowered his head to her belly and cried.

She’d been put on bed rest as a precaution, and she and Nico had holed up in London until the danger to the baby had passed. David had joined them a short time later, and they’d even had a brief visit from Luca, who had announced that he always wanted to be an uncle. He was on his way to Miami, and she’d hugged him tight, fighting tears as she said goodbye. She had a feeling they’d see him again someday.

Braden Kane had kept them posted about the trial that had prosecuted Sean Murdock for espionage, illegal trafficking, and a host of other crimes that would keep him in prison for the rest of his life. But the world was used to his software, and his business legacy would survive him. It didn’t seem fair, but it was something Angel could live with. Raneiro Donati was dead, and while she liked to think she wouldn’t have gone for the gun, wouldn’t have pulled the trigger herself, she would never really know.

She and Nico and David had settled in Bali before the baby was born. Angel and Nico had been married in a small ceremony on the beach, and Angel had given birth in their cottage by the sea, aided by one of the local midwives and Nico, who had looked at her with such love when he first held their daughter that Angel had wept.

“Hello, beautiful,” Nico said, touching her hair.

She smiled up at him. “Hello. How is she today?”

“An angel,” he said. “Just like her mother.”

She stood on tiptoe, kissed his lips. “Ready for lunch?”

“I’m ready for you,” he said, his voice low and deep.

She grinned. “Work first, play later.”

He nodded, a slow smile spreading to his lips. “Work first, play later.” He touched his lips to their daughter’s head. “I guess that means lunch for all of us, princess.”

She took his hand, and they turned toward the water and their new beginning.

Toward life. And each other.

A
fter the turf
war that almost got Luca Cassano killed, a job in Miami working as a bodyguard sounds like just what the doctor ordered; sun, sand, and a completely straightforward job.

B
ut as soon as
he lays eyes on Isabel, he knows that being the hired muscle will be more a lot more complicated than he imagined.

I
sabel Fuentes knows
people think she’s spoiled and callous. Being the daughter of a notorious drug lord will do that to a girl, and things have only gotten worse since her father’s death. Now his drug empire is run by her brother, Diego, and while their father might have been a man without a conscious, Diego is a more dangerous animal entirely.

A
t first
, Isabel thinks Luca is just another hired gun. Someone to keep her from pulling the wild stunts that remind her she’s still alive — that there’s still hope for something else. But it doesn’t take long to realize there’s more than meets the eye under Luca’s very hot facade.

A
nd that is
a complication Isabel doesn’t need.

B
ut when Diego
reveals a nefarious reason for keeping Isabel close, she’s forced to rely on Luca instead of keeping her distance. Now he may be the only one who can save her — and the one man who can bring her alive with his touch.