The Muscle Part One

L
ucas Cassano took
a swig of his beer, watching with interest as a balding middle-aged man tried desperately for the affection of a much younger woman at the outdoor bar. The man sat too close to her, his gleaming pate shining with sweat as he laughed too loud and touched her knee one too many times. The woman was obviously not impressed, and Luca watched as she leaned away each time the man got close, her body language shouting at him to leave her alone.

Luca wanted to tell the man to back off — both as a Public Service Announcement to him and as a favor to the woman — but he held himself in check. After months working to bring down the Syndicate and Raneiro Donati, he was in need of some much needed downtime. He loved Nico Vitale like a brother — and had grown to love Angel, the love of Nico’s life, just as much — but the running and traveling and watching his back had taken its toll. Luca thought he’d been under the radar as Nico’s second-in-command, but it hadn’t turned out that way, and Luca had found himself out of a job and signing amnesty papers with the Feds after Raneiro was killed in Rome.

He was looking forward to his new job as a bodyguard for the progeny of one of Miami’s most affluent families. That the child in question was the daughter of a well known drug kingpin didn’t bother him in the least. He was done taking a personal interest in the goings-on of his employer. Now he would be nothing but hired muscle, and he was totally fine with that.

He took another drink of the beer and turned to survey the hotel property. Situated on the beach in Miami, the hotel was small compared to the monstrosities that surrounded it. He didn’t mind. It felt more personal, and he admired the pool gleaming blue under the roof of the building, the sound of the ocean rushing the sand in the darkness beyond the bar.

He finished his beer and set down the empty bottle, giving the woman and older man a cursory glance as he walked past them. He wished them well, though he doubted either of them would get what they wanted tonight.

He headed toward the hotel, the property immaculately landscaped with palm trees and white lights, the pool glowing in the distance. It was early to be calling it a night, but he had to report to the Fuentes estate first thing in the morning, and he wanted to be refreshed and ready to go. The job would be an easy one, but it was always draining to start over.

He knew that better than anyone.

He’d thought his years of starting over were behind him, but he didn’t bemoan the change of plan. Shit happened. You adapted and survived or you didn’t survive at all. And Luca always survived. He survived as a kid, dodging his father’s drunken fists, and again as an adolescent on the streets, trying to avoid social services after his father was put in jail. It hadn’t been easy, but Luca had quickly learned how to protect himself using both brain and brawn.

Joining the Vitale family had been a turning point. There he’d found brotherhood, family. The fact that the Vitale’s were the East Coast arm of the Syndicate, a consortium that controlled organized crime across the globe, hadn’t mattered. Luca had done his share of illegal things in the name of survival, and the Vitale family was more conscionable than most. Luca had pledged his loyalty to Nico without question, even when it meant making an enemy of Raneiro Donati after Nico fell in love with Angel Rossi.

Now Raneiro was dead and the Syndicate was in chaos. Those who had received amnesty were scattered to the wind, looking over their shoulders, hoping no one came after them. Everyone else was in jail awaiting trial. Nico and Angel were on a beach somewhere, finally getting the happy ending they deserved with their infant daughter. Luca was happy for them, but he wanted no part of love. He’d seen what that kind of vulnerability did to a man. He was good at being alone, and while he’d had his share of affairs over the years, they’d always been brief, eventually ending because he couldn’t — wouldn’t — open up.

Luca had no hard feelings. The women he’d known had been good to the last. They deserved to be with someone who loved them, heart and soul, and Luca wasn’t sure he had enough of either to go around.

He continued toward the glow of the pool. He would need to find a place to rent if he was going to stay in Miami, preferably someplace close to the beach. It was the same ocean he’d seen every day in New York, but it felt entirely different. Here the water was as blue as azure, as warm as a kiss. The breeze was balmy, even a little heavy, and there was something comforting in the way it blew across his face off the water. He didn’t know how long he’d stay, but right now, it felt like just what he needed.

He had almost reached the pool on his way to the lobby when something caught his eye near the roofline of the hotel. Glancing up, he had to blink to make sure he wasn’t imagining the woman, standing on the edge of the roof over the pool. But no, she was there all right.

And it looked like she was about to jump.

I
sabel had been
about to take a running jump when the man appeared in her line of vision. He’d stepped out of the shadows like a ghost, emerging from the backdrop of music and conversation emanating from the outdoor bar.

Damn.

She froze when he came to a stop, his head tilted upward. He’d seen her, and now she only had two choices; disappear before he could try to stop her or do what she came to do.

And she was no quitter.

She inched toward the edge of the roof. It wasn’t the craziest thing she’d done. There was the time she’d taken Diego’s Audi and tested it at 160 MPH on the highway, despite the fact that three cop cars were right behind her, lights on and sirens blaring. And the time she’d danced at a strip club just for the fun of it. That had only been one night, and she’d done it in a vain attempt to take back some kind of control over her body, her life. But Diego had called her a slut for weeks afterward, threatening to send her to Columbia where she’d see what it really meant to be a whore.

She knew Diego thought she was crazy. And maybe she was. Maybe losing their father and everything that happened afterward had done that to her. She’d been happy when he’d been alive. At least she thought she’d been.

Now everything was different. Diego was running the family business, and while it had never been exactly legal, it had taken a decidedly darker turn since he took over. At first Isabel tried to ignore it, burying herself in her art and avoiding the subject of the business with her brother. But then he’d started using the drugs her father made millions selling. The house in Coral Gables was increasingly patrolled by the violent, cold-eyed men who did her brother’s dirty work and the drugged out women who kept him company. Days turned into weeks, which turned too quickly into months as she tried to shield her little sister, Sofia, from the worst of it. Pretty soon it got harder and harder to feel like she was alive. Harder and harder to feel like there was a point to it all. A future for her beyond the gilded walls of the house that hadn’t felt like a home in longer than she remembered.

She was only twenty-three. From the outside, it must have looked like she had options: college, travel, even getting a job just to keep busy. She had plenty of money.

But Sofia needed to be in school, needed routine and stability, and Diego always had an excuse to keep Isabel close. He sounded rational enough when he explained it all to her — the fact that she and Sofia were his responsibility. That since Isabel was the executor of their father’s estate, only she could authorize the expenditures that kept the business going.

But she knew they were lies.

Diego did need her to gain access to the money, but it wasn’t the only reason he kept her close. The truth is, he enjoyed hurting her. Enjoyed her suffering and knowing he was the one who had inflicted it. The one with the power to inflict it again.

“Hey!” the man called up from below. “What are you doing?”

His voice forced her back to the present. She froze, trying to decide what to do. The pool was just below her, the warm breeze coming off the water a caress through the flimsy fabric of her nightgown. She wasn’t scared. The pool was right there. The water would welcome her with open arms. It wouldn't be so bad. And at least she would feel alive, if only for a few minutes.

She continued to the edge of the roof.

H
e squinted
, trying to get a better look at her, but all he got were impressions — a young woman, dark hair billowing around her, a white slip or nightgown blowing against her skin in the breeze that rose up off the water.

He stopped in his tracks as she inched closer to the edge of the roof. What was she doing up there? Trying to kill herself?

He tried to gauge the distance from the roof to the pool. The hotel was only six stories high, and the roof above the pool was over an interior courtyard that dipped even lower than the rest of the building. He guessed it was one, maybe two stories.

Could she survive a fall from that distance if she landed in the pool?

She froze, and even from a distance he could feel her eyes connect with his, like some kind of beacon that transcended the shadows between them. She seemed to hesitate in the moment before she inched closer to the edge.

“Stop!” he shouted. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

It was a stupid thing to say — especially if that’s what she intended to do — but the words were out of his mouth before he could analyze them. His mind paged through his options, but it didn’t take long to realize there weren’t very many. He could make a run for the roof or stay here and try to talk her down.

Running for the roof didn’t seem very smart. He’d have to take the elevator or the stairs, during which time she’d be completely out of his line of sight. She could hit the pool — or the ground — before he ever got to her. On the other hand, standing here and yelling up at the roof wasn’t productive either. He wasn’t even sure she could hear him.

He held out his hands and raised his voice. “Just… wait there! I’ll come up.”

He eased toward the hotel, his eyes still on the girl. The clouds parted and a sliver of moonlight gave him a glimpse of her face. It wasn’t what he expected. Not tortured or sad. Just serene. Like she knew exactly what she was doing and was there to get it done. The certainty on her face got him moving faster toward the hotel.

He was almost to the doors, almost to the point where she would disappear from view as he entered the lobby, when she reached the very edge of the roof. Dread hit his gut like a stone, and he wasn’t even surprised when she leapt off the building a couple of seconds later.

He watched helplessly as she fell through the air, way too graceful for what she was doing, the white fabric of her dress billowing around her body. He wasn’t aware of making the decision to run for the pool, but he reached it just as she splashed into the deep end.

He dove in without a second thought, registering with surprise that the water was warm, like everything else about Miami. He opened his eyes, trying to orient himself to the blurry underwater landscape. A moment later, she came into view, her body floating across the deep end, drifting through the water, tinged blue-green from the lights.

He swam toward her, thinking she might already be dead. But then she opened her eyes, her gaze connecting with his before she started swimming for the edge.

She was alive.

He barely had time to register the fact before anger surged through his body. What the hell had she been doing? What had she been thinking?

He swam hurriedly toward her, slowed down by the weight of his clothes, but by the time he reached her, she was already lifting herself out of the pool. Water dripped from her body, the white nightgown sticking to her skin, revealing a body he could have looked at all night if only he hadn’t been so pissed.

“What the fuck were you…?” he started.

She was running before he could finish.

He hoisted himself out of the pool, surprised at how heavy his soaked jeans felt around his thighs, and took off after her, chasing her toward the beach, shadowed now that the moon had disappeared behind another cloud. He didn’t know what he would do once he caught her, but she’d been stupid and irresponsible. At the very least he would give her a piece of his mind.

I
sabel didn’t expect
the man to chase her onto the beach. She was alive — that was obvious — what more did he want from her?

She hurried toward the pounding surf, hoping to lose him, when a bank of clouds rolled in front of the half moon. The beach was nearly deserted, a lone couple strolling hand in hand her only company. She ran past them without making eye contact, her nightgown wet and stuck to her skin. She didn’t have time to stop and explain to the man who had watched her jump from the roof of the hotel. She needed to get back to the house before Diego realized she was missing.

She ran as fast as her legs would carry her, although in hindsight, it might have been smart to spend less time painting and more time working out if she was going to try and escape from hot, muscular men on the beach.

And he had been hot. That much she’d been able to tell even from the roof of the hotel.

She pushed the thought away and headed farther down the beach. There was no shelter, nothing to hide behind, but maybe if she got far enough ahead she could make it back up to the row of hotels before he caught up to her. She could get lost in the crowd then, would be able to disappear. She was scoping out the light beyond the beach when she felt a hand close around her arm.

“Stop.”

The voice was deep and commanding and utterly male, and when he spun her around, she went down in a flurry of sand and curse words.

“Stop it!” he said again, pinning her underneath him.

She went still, her whole body suddenly primed by the hard length of him against her. They were both breathing fast, her chest rising and falling against his while he looked at her with the most piercing blue eyes she’d ever seen. They left her speechless and for a moment it was all she could do not to lift her head from the sand and press her lips to his, slip her tongue inside the full lips that were only inches from her own.

“Are you crazy?” he finally said. “What the hell was that?”

“None of your business!” She tried to shove him off her, but his body was as hard and immovable as a slab of perfectly sculpted stone. “Get off me!”

“Not until you tell me what you were doing on the roof.” A lock of dark hair fell across his forehead, and she had to resist the urge to brush it back with her fingers.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” She saw a flicker in his eyes that hinted at a lie. “But I don’t want to read about you offing yourself in the morning paper and know I could have done something to stop it.”

She laughed, barely able to squeeze it out under the weight of his body. “I’m not suicidal.”

“Then what the fuck were you doing up there?”

“I just… it’s something I do sometimes,” she said. “That’s all. Now get off me.”

He still didn’t budge, and she tried to ignore the lick of desire that ran through her body at the feel of his thigh pressed between her legs, his massive chest and powerful arms like the wings of a giant angel covering her. She didn’t know this guy at all. He could be anybody. He could do anything to her here in the dark and no one would know the difference. She’d never see Sofia again. What would happen to her little sister then?

But despite the list of possibilities running through her mind, she wasn’t afraid. There was something inherently calming about the man on top of her, something sure and protective in his blue-eyed gaze.

He finally stood. She missed the heat of him almost immediately, and she got to her feet, brushing sand off her wet nightgown, hoping he couldn’t see how he’d affected her.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Why is it something you do?”

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

He crossed his big arms over his muscled chest. “Try me.”

She mimicked his action, covering her wet body with her folded arms. “No.”

“No?”

“That’s right,” she said. “No.”

His gaze pierced hers thorough the darkness and she was suddenly scared. Not of him. Of herself and all the things she didn’t usually allow herself to feel.

All the things she might feel if only she wasn’t so afraid.