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His head dips, lowering until his lips kiss the skin along my neck, nipping once and then he lightly sucks.
“Mmm.” A moan slips out of my mouth as my body presses forward, molding against his. “Dra—” I start, but I’m quickly cut off by the sound of his phone ringing.
He freezes against me as if only now realizing what is happening between us.
A curse flies from his mouth as he releases me, stepping away. Turning, he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his pants, answering it as he stalks back inside his office.
“What?” he barks into the phone as I follow him.
Looking around, taking in the space, I notice it’s bigger than his office at the docks—and nicer too. His desk is positioned in the center of the room toward the back with a wide window behind it. The curtains span from the floor up to the ceiling and they are pulled open, allowing sunlight to naturally brighten the room rather than having the lights turned on. The lights really aren’t needed.
There is a bookcase to my right and a leather couch with an unmade blanket at the end opposite a pillow, telling me this is where he’s slept the last two nights since I’ve been here.
“I told you not to bother me with this shit, Rebecca. I’ll be back when I’m back. Stop questioning me, goddammit.”
I stop following him when he rounds his desk while I stand behind one of the two guest chairs in front of him. Bending at the waist, I rest my elbows on the back of the chair.
D drops his smartphone on his desk. A billow of air steaming out of his mouth follows.
“What did you need?” he finally asks as he leans his denim-clad ass against the short filing cabinet in front of the window.
“Just wanted to talk.”
“About?” He grips the edge of the wooden furniture. Lifting an eyebrow, I look at him. “Not this shit again, Bri.”
“Hear me out. That’s all I’m asking of you.”
“Fine,” he bites out. “Plead your case.”
I look down, eyeing the gray fabric of the chair. Now that he’s given me the green light to talk, I suddenly don’t know where to start. I didn’t give this much thought, which isn’t like me.
“I need your help,” I admit. Those words have never been easy for me. I’ve always ensured I could do things on my own. I never want to be weak or be perceived as such. But failing that little boy that counted on me? It proves I’m not as strong as I thought. I do need help.
“With?” he asks, skepticism evident in his eyes.
“Put me in contact with Diaz.”
“Are you fucking crazy?” His eyebrows pull together.
“No. He took your...” I pause, reading the heat that flares across his face. He knows what I was about to say, and pissing him off isn’t going to help me at this moment. “Sebastian took that little boy, D.”
“Not my problem.”
“All I’m asking is that you give me a phone number or whatever will get me in touch with him.”
“He shot you. No!” He shakes his head. “The cops will find the boy. That’s their job.”
“And what if they aren’t doing shit? He’s just a baby, Drago.” I add that last bit hoping to appeal to his softer, caring side that he’s trying hard not to show.
“What do you want me to do? I’m not about to meddle in LAPD shit, Bri. I have enough of your people constantly looking for the smallest morsel to pin on my family.”
“He took Gabe for insurance to get you to bend to his ways. Whether you believe Gabriel is yours or not isn’t the point. Diaz believes it and he plans to use him against you.”
“So, what are you suggesting?”
“We play his game. You tell him you’ll do whatever he wants. We—”
He cuts me off. “I’m going to pretend you did not just suggest that right now.”
