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“I don’t want you to go.”
I move closer. My heart’s racing. I don’t know what’s happening but I need her right now. Her lips, her tongue. Her taste and her smell. Everything about her. I need her and I don’t know if she wants me to keep moving closer, but I don’t stop. I reach out and she presses her cheek against my hand as my fingers move back into her hair. I lean my forehead against hers and her breath is coming in little hitching gasps and she’s trying not to cry, but doing a shitty job of it, and I brush my lips against hers.
“I’m yours,” I whisper. “I’m all yours. I’ll earn your trust. I’ll kill for your trust. And I’ll win you back.”
“You idiot,” she says and bites my lower lip. “You already have me.”
I kiss her and pull her against me. She’s crying, but also smiling, and also kissing me, and her taste floods my mouth, and it’s like distant fireworks burst in my chest, each one a new concussive force, and I know this is right, this is what I need. Everything else, the Panagos, Christopher, the Famiglia, all of that is secondary to her, my Brice, the only clean thing in my life.
We slowly break apart. I’m breathing hard and I wipe her tears away and her fingers dig into my back. “Stay,” she whispers. “Please.”
“I don’t want to take advantage of you. It seems as though you’ve had a few drinks.”
“I don’t care. Just hold me, okay? I know everything’s a mess but let’s just figure it out in the morning. Hold me right now, okay?”
I kiss her one more time and linger there, tasting her soft, lovely lips. “Okay.”
I turn out the light, get under the covers, and her body fits against mine, and I hold her.
Chapter26
Carmine
Early the next morning, I slip out of the bedroom and close the door behind me. She’s still sound asleep and I want her to get as much rest as she can.
I don’t plan on letting her sleep for weeks.
I call her grandfather. It goes to voicemail twice before he picks up. Old bastard’s trying to ignore me.
“Carmine. You’re persistent,” he says, sounding annoyed. I can’t blame him—it’s barely past seven in the morning—but the old fuck’s always working. It’s not like I woke him up. And I don’t care if I did.
“We need to talk.”
“I don’t think we do. Our business is concluded. You can bring up any issues you have with Rowe Oil to the next board meeting. There are official channels you need to follow from now on if you want to lodge a complaint. If that’s all, it’s early, and I’d like to enjoy my coffee.”
“I’m with Brice right now.” That gets his attention. I can practically hear his old spine straightening. “Do you know what your son’s been doing? I suppose I should saywho your son’s getting involved with.”
There’s a pause and I’m guessing he’s in full-on panic mode. What the fuck is going on in his house? This old man doesn’t know anything happening under his own nose. “That is none of your concern. I’m handling it.”
“Are you? Because he’s been soliciting money from Russian oligarchs. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is right now with everything going on in the world? With all the fucking sanctions? He’s playing with fire.” I don’t mention the thugs from the night before. I can’t be sure they were involved with the Russians—for all I know, they were just a couple of guys sharing a cigarette—but I’m not about to take any chances. Fact is, her father is going to get them all killed if he keeps going down this road whether the Russians are already sniffing around or not.
Her grandfather is quiet for a long moment before I hear the sound of him changing positions. When he speaks, his tone is softer. “It’s worse than that, actually. You’re right that he’s been feeling them out. He’s been trying to see if there’s interest for his little scheme over there because he has one goal in mind.”
I let out a strangled laugh as it clicks together. “Don’t tell me. He wants to rent a lovely little Cold War-era apartment near the Kremlin?”
“He thinks the Russian government would love the opportunity to shield an American criminal purely to stick it to the United States.”
I curse and pace back and forth. The absolute depraved balls on that man. If it weren’t so sickening, I’d almost feel impressed. “He’s willing to risk an international incident just to avoid some jail time? The bastard will have to spend the rest of his life hiding out in Moscow at the mercy of the Russian government, all to avoid a few months to a couple years at a fucking glorified sleepaway camp.”
“My son isn’t well.”
“No, he isn’twell, but you need to get him under control.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try fucking harder.” I glance back toward the bedroom. “The sickest part of all this is Brice is the only innocent one in your damn family and she’s been shouldering most of the guilt and pain.”
“I was forced out of retirement. You think that’s been easy on me? I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m too damn old to be running Rowe Oil but there’s nobody else. My son is going to prison even if he’s entertaining this escape fantasy. All Brice had to do was marry you, but she couldn’t even manage that. We all have problems, Carmine.”
