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"You still have your badge?" she murmurs. "Even on leave?"
I allow myself a tight smile as I tuck my wallet away. "Turns out a driver's license in a totally different name works just as well on someone who really doesn't give a fuck." I meet her gaze. "Talk like a Fed, people treat you like a Fed. Right?"
She smiles faintly back. "Clever girl." Her eyes glint with new appreciation. Or perhaps it’s renewed desire. My pulse skips, but I force myself to stay focused. We're not out of danger yet.
We need to leave, but neither of us can resist a last glance at the retreating vessel.
"Do you think she'll be okay?" Alessa asks at last, her voice subdued.
I follow her gaze to the dark slash of water where the trawler disappeared. "With the chance you've given her? I think she'll thrive." I touch her arm. "You did a good thing tonight, Alessa."
She bows her head, uncharacteristically somber. "I just hope it's enough to balance out some of my father's sins."
My breath catches at this glimpse into the weight on her soul. I've been so focused on bringing down the Mancini Family that I overlooked the toll it's taken on Alessa, born into a role she never chose, her father so well loved—but so violent, too.
My image of her shifts yet again, subtler shadings coming into focus.
"You’re living proof that we're more than where we come from," I tell her.
She smiles, eyes shining with emotion. "I hope so. Let's get out of here, huh?"
"Let's," I agree fervently.
CHAPTER22
ALESSA
I stir to the whisper of sheets as Natalie slips out of bed in the early morning. Through half-open eyes, I watch her dress: buttoning, strapping, smoothing away evidence of the night before.
She came back with me to my home last night, and I loved her for hours, until we both passed out in exhaustion.
She catches me peeking. Flashes that sunshine smile. "Go back to sleep, Alessa."
Longing creeps in to curl up in the warm spot she leaves behind. I stretch languidly beneath the sheets, body pleasantly tingling as memories of last night replay in my mind. Natalie’s hands roaming my skin, her mouth worshipping every inch of me... I suppress a pleasurable shudder.
Every time. Every time it's incendiary.
I grab my robe and watch the sunrise bleed pink over Manhattan’s silhouette. Early joggers loop by, a guy walking his French bulldog. My pulse picks up when Natalie steps onto the pavement, scanning the street.
She turns and waves up at me, and I wave down at her, but a pang goes through me. Does she regret what passed between us under cover of darkness? I know this changes nothing about the obstacles facing us, but I’d hoped...
No. I won't let insecurities undermine this new beginning.
This is real. I must trust in that. In her.
I head downstairs. The townhouse is quiet, still slumbering. Moving to the front window, I peek through the curtains, looking after her again because I can't bear to know she's in sight and notseeher. I spot her hurrying down the sidewalk half a block away, shoulders hunched against the morning chill.
Even from this distance, she takes my breath away. Memories of her above me, below me, surround me, make my body flush with renewed wanting. But deeper than the desire is a bone-deeprightness. As though she’s meant to be here, with me. As though this is where she belongs.
Natalie glances back over her shoulder, as if sensing my gaze. I lift a hand in greeting, even though she can't see it. But she offers a small wave in return as though she can feel my eyes on her, then continues on her way.
I wish I could have awakened in her arms, lingered over coffee and caresses. Yet I understand her caution, her need to move carefully through this delicate new dynamic between us. I must be patient.
Turning from the window, I take one step away, but a sudden commotion outside catches my attention. Muted voices rising in anger. I turn back to the window.
Natalie stands rigid, face pale.
And before her looms Sam Wright, gesturing wildly as he crowds into her space.
