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After a small pause, I lean toward him, expecting him to move, but he doesn’t. I’m forced to catch myself on the edge of the tub, my wet naked chest accidentally pressing against his clothed one as my fingers pinch around the tub lip. I can feel his quick breaths as he grabs onto my wet arms, pulling me closer and I swallow hard, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Gavino?” My soft voice breaks the silence, water dripping from my arms to splatter onto the floor as he holds me in place. He licks his lips, the edge of his tongue so close to my mouth I nearly feel it on mine. I resist the urge to shutter, my back starting to ache at the angle I’m sitting at.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Beverly.”
I swallow, not sure how to answer—I choose to ignore his statement. “I’m cold, Gavino.”
My words have the effect I was hoping for and Gavino shifts, guiding me up from the bath. His touch still burns my skin even when he lets go, my towel wrapping around me not making me feel any more covered than when I was naked as he stands and watches me dry.
“You know, it’s safe to have sex while you’re pregnant.”
My heart nearly stops at his comment. My back is turned to him as I take another towel from the cabinet to dry my hair. “I know.”
I hear his shoes on the tile bringing him closer, but feel the warmth of his palms as they land back on my arms, stroking from my elbow to shoulder. Holding my breath when his puffs along the back of my neck. “I’ve been thinking—”
His sentence is interrupted by the ring of his cellphone and I silently praise the heavens above for the distraction. When he pauses to answer it, I quickly move away from him, shifting out of the bathroom to practically run to my closet. Pulling on clothing I leave my towels on the floor, my hair still dripping when Gavino finds me in the doorway.
“I have to go.” His jaw is tight, the expression on his face hard. “When I get back, we’ll continue this discussion.”
I nod, simply because I don’t know what else to say, watching his back as he leaves the room.Hopefully, I’m sleeping when he gets back.
Chapter Nineteen
REMY
Francis Delfino, if nothing else, is a man of punctuality.
After following him for a week, I would know. And currently, Donatello, Andrea, and I are waiting outside of his office for him to get off of work. If I know anything about the man, and I think I do, he’ll walk out the door in precisely one minute according to the dash clock.
“There he is.” Andrea nods toward the front of the building where Francis is walking down the sidewalk. Briefly making eye contact with the two men in the car, we all get out. Francis’s eyes flicker between the three of us as we approach him, confusion titling his brow.
I speak before he can. “You've got an appointment, Francis Delfino.”
He starts to say something, but Donatello lands a left hook to his chin, knocking him out cold. We all collectively watch as he crumples onto the ground, Donatello winking at a lady who stops in her tracks and then spins to go the other direction on the sidewalk. Andrea bends down and grabs Francis, tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Walking in front of them, I open the back of the SUV, watching as Francis is not to carefully tossed in, his head banging against the back of the seats. Grabbing some zip ties, Andrea secures his hands behind his back before looking over to me. “Should I cover his mouth?”
Donatello speaks up before me, snatching the roll of duct tape that was already in the back. “Fuck yeah. Tape him, put a couple pieces so it really sticks. Ripping it off is one of the best parts.”
Andrea gives him a look but grabs the tape, slapping one long piece over Francis's mouth.
“Do another piece.” Donatello reaches for the tape but Andrea pulls it back, tossing it into the SUV.
“That's enough.”
Donatello tuts at him and I shake my head at them both, reaching up to slam the trunk shut. “Let's go.”
We bring him to one of the off-site warehouses. Donatello brakes harder than necessary when we get there, grinning at me when we hear Francis's body thump against the back of the seats. Getting out, Andrea opens the trunk, a groggy and confused Francis falling onto the dirt lot since he was leaning on the window. I nod to Andrea and he reaches down, ripping the tape from his mouth before jerking Francis up by his arm so that he's facing me.
We both ignore Donatello's grumbled, “I wanted to do that.”
“What is going on? What is the meaning of thi—”
His words are cut off with my right hook, his lips splitting against my knuckles. Flexing my hand, I revel in the sting of a good hit before laying another one on his cheek. “Oh good, I'm glad you're awake.” His body sways slightly at the blow but Andrea keeps his stumbling form up. “We never got to know each other through this whole wedding business, but I think it's time we had a chat.”
Turning toward the warehouse, Andrea tugs Francis along with him as Donatello opens the door. Francis is sat in the chair bolted to the floor in the center of the room, his binds adjusted so that he can’t fight his way up. My eyes find Donatello's for a moment, a lopsided grin on his face as he tosses me a set of brass knuckles before leaning against the table behind him.
Sliding the brass knuckles on my fingers, I move to stand in front of Francis. His eyes shift nervously around the room, his sweaty chest rapidly rising and falling. I could end this quickly, just shoot him and get it over with, but I want to draw it out.
