This morning, she left early for her office. “Real work,” she said with a forced smile. I got her meaning. The kind of work that doesn't involve capos or Russians or contract marriages. Ioffered to drive her, but she said she needed space to think about things.
I didn't push. Can’t say it didn’t sting, though.
I pace around the penthouse with Reaper at my heels. I stare at the time on my phone for the millionth time today, as if I can will the minutes to tick by faster. I've already gone through my emails, checked in with my security team, and reviewed the security protocols I've put in place for Adriana's building. There's nothing left to do except think about things I shouldn't be thinking about.
My ring tone interrupts the thoughts looping through my mind. I grab my phone and let out a sigh when I see my brother Wolfe’s name flash on the screen.
As if I thought it’d be her calling.
I answer on the first ring. “Hey. What do you have?”
“Good morning to you, too, brother.” His voice is dry. Completely monotone. Classic Wolfe. “I've been looking into the Kozlov hit on Castellano's shipment. Pulled some port records, security footage, the usual.”
“And?”
“The container they grabbed wasn't just packed with consumer electronics. Castellano was also moving a smaller package for the DiMichelis. It contained medical equipment, high-end imaging stuff. Legitimate, but expensive. Street value is probably around half a million.”
I sit up straighter. “So they didn't just hit Castellano. They hit DiMicheli products, too.”
“Exactly. Which makes me wonder if this was really about testing new leadership, or if they knew exactly what they were taking.”
“You think they targeted that specific shipment?”
“I think it's worth asking how they knew which container to grab out of two dozen on that dock.” Keys click in the background. “Could be surveillance. Could be a bribed dock worker.Could be they just got lucky. I'm still pulling footage and cross-referencing schedules. But I don’t have anything concrete yet.”
I bring a hand to the back of my neck. “Keep at it.”
“Of course. I'll let you know if anything pops.”
He hangs up. I stare at the phone for a long minute, thoughts of Adriana now squelched by suspicion about this shipping shit show.
It's probably nothing. The Russians are professionals. I know how they operate. They don’t make rushed moves. Everything they do is calculated and well planned. That means they rely on solid surveillance and intel. But Wolfe's instinct is usually right, and if he thinks there's something worth digging into, there probably is.
Reaper lifts his head off the couch and whines. He's been restless all morning, jumping off the couch, wandering between rooms, checking the elevator door every few minutes. Looking for her, obviously.
“I know, buddy.” I scratch behind his ear. “Me too.”
He sighs and drops his head back to his paws.
I fist the sides of my hair. I need to do something. Move around. Think. Anything except sit here replaying that moment in the car for the hundredth fucking time.
Maybe I’ll go to the gym. Get in a good, hard pump to take my mind off of almost kissing my wife. I head toward my bedroom to change when I notice the bag.
I don’t know how I missed it earlier. It’s one of Adriana’s… a carry-on she probably uses for quick business trips. She must have been looking for something this morning and left it there.
The zipper is half open. A book pokes out.
My brow furrows. I should leave it alone. It's her stuff. Her privacy. Invading it would be wrong.
But Reaper spots it at the same time as me and trots over to investigate. He noses at the bag and knocks it over. Books spill across the hardwood floor.
Paperbacks. Four of them. Dog-eared, spine-cracked, clearly read multiple times.
I crouch down to pick them up, ready to stuff them back into the bag when the covers stop me cold.
Bare-chested men. Women in lingerie. Titles like “Claimed by Her Boss” and “His to Command” and “The Billionaire's Pet.” Fuck me.
A smile lifts my lips.
