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“It’s gonna take more than that,” Saint jokes.
“I hate to spoil the fun, but I need a word with Thunder,” Risk says. He looks at his son. “Do you think you can keep these three out of trouble until I get back?”
“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Romeo says, puffing out his chest. The kid’s going to be a loyal Satan’s Pride brother when he grows up. I sit him in my chair and watch as Rose breaks her brownie and gives half to Romeo. He snuggles closer to Rosie and goes on chatting about his day.
I follow Risk outside. He leans his back against the brick and says, “Aldo Capaldi’s dead.”
“Say what?”
“You heard me. I got the call right before I picked up Romeo. Reno called and gave me the news.”
“Aldo stole the charm. But why? The thing was virtually worthless.”
“Raffaele’s not talking. He told Reno to send word that we’d never have to worry about Aldo again and said he’s been dealt with, permanently,” Risk tells me with a heavy sigh. “I can only guess, but it sounds like Aldo took it years ago out of spite. When Raffaele went looking for it, Aldo panicked and tried to return it. It appears Harvey may have helped himself to it, and the nightmare progressed. From what I’m told, Raffaele’s a private man, and his relationship with his family was complicated. He alluded to the importance of that gold key at the meeting. Will we ever know the details? Probably not.”
“I don’t give a shit, as long as they leave us alone.” I’m fucking glad it’s over and Rosie and the Pride are safe.
“Your choice if you want to share with Rose.” I furrow my brow in confusion. He says, “Things have been good. Why dredge up the past? It’ll bring back the pain of her sister’s death and two others.”
“I don’t like to hide shit from her.”
“Then don’t.” He shrugs. “You know her better than anyone.” He pauses. “Maybe give her the choice.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I mull it over, and the more I think on it, the more I like the idea of giving her the choice.
TWENTY-FOUR
Home is Rose
ROSE
“Idon’t want to know,” I tell Thunder firmly.
“Babe, are you sure?” His face is filled with concern. “Closure and all that. I don’t want you ever thinking you have to look over your shoulder.”
“Just tell me it’s really over. I trust you to tell me the truth. I can move past this if you tell me I can.”
“It’s over,” he says with finality. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. We walked away that day from the warehouse shell-shocked. Eventually, I began to believe the promise Raffaele Di Morte made. Up until this moment, I’d put Aldo Capaldi out of my head.
“Good.” I nod and plop onto the sofa. Thunder sits with me, his feet propped on my coffee table and his arm on the back of the sofa. Thunder lays his head back, and I get a good look at his face, beautiful, but tired. He’s lost sleep for me. Even now, his worry was about my reaction. Yet Thunder ensures that I make the decision when I know he would have preferred to keep this stress from me.
The tight V-neck T-shirt displays the muscular column of his throat and fits his torso, showing off his six-pack. Even his thick thighs and feet seem sexy to me. I’m not usually the one who initiates sex, but Thunder is irresistible.
I swing my leg over, settling on his lap with my legs on either side of his, straddling him. His eyes blink open, but before he can say a word, I press my lips to his neck, then let my tongue trail to his ear, where I nip at his lobe.
“Rosie.” His voice is hoarse with need.
“Yes, baby,” I murmur, my hands trailing down over his chest and under his tee. His warm, smooth skin under my touch spurs me on, and the moan of delight from his lips gives me excited butterflies in my belly. I raise his shirt, and he finishes the job, tugging it over his head and tossing it behind him.
His hands come to my thighs, slip under my skirt, and pull it up to my waist. He presses my lower half into his, moving me over him, rocking over his cock. With every movement, I get wetter and wetter. My fingers glide over his belt, undoing it quickly and unzipping him. I wrap my hand around his cock, firm and hard, yet soft and smooth.
Thunder returns the favor, unbuttoning my blouse and gliding it over my shoulders and down my arms, causing a tingle along my spine. My bra follows immediately after.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he says, then cups the back of my head and smothers his mouth to mine in a kiss that transcends any other we’ve had. This kiss is a promise of forever. It’s unity, joy, completion, exaltation, yet calm, real, true, and free. How one kiss can say all that we are when we’re together, I have no idea, and I don’t care as long as I get to have this every day of my life.
“I want to take care of you,” I say when our lips part. Thunder doesn’t say a word, but motions for me to move off him. He pushes the table back with his legs, then plants his feet on the floor as I stand before him. He splays his legs and tosses several throw pillows down and waits for me to make my next move.
I drop to my knees on the soft pillows, my fingers tracing a path along the inside of his thighs and around to his hips, hooking my fingers into his jeans and yanking, although they wouldn’t budge if Thunder didn’t accommodate my request, shifting his weight, and I pull them off, exposing his swollen cock.
