On The Ropes (18 page)

Slater, who rarely drank and definitely didn’t eat much takeout. His body had been a temple, at least until Olivia had taken up residence in his heart.

“Go ahead. Say it. Say I’m a fucking wreck.” He threw his arm out and gestured to the mess. “A loser.”

I couldn’t. I
wouldn’t
. Looking at him then was like staring into my own face, months down the road.

This was what love did to a person. When it wasn’t right, or when it was so right you weren’t strong enough to survive it.

Swallowing hard, I pushed off the door and moved closer to him. I had nothing but instinct to guide me, and bone-deep understanding.

And I didn’t want him to hurt anymore.

“I’m—I’m with Giovanni Costas.”

His head came up, and his eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Yeah.” Nervously, I tucked my hair behind my ears. “No one knows. Fox doesn’t. My sister definitely doesn’t. They’d kill me, or at least wonder at my sanity.” I took another step forward, closing in on him. “But they don’t know how I feel. They aren’t in my head, or my heart. And I don’t care what they think.” I blew out a breath. “Or I do, but not enough to give him up. Nothing and no one can make me do that.”

Except him
. He could, if he pushed me away. That day could come at any time.

Slater crossed his arms. “You’re screwing the guy who nearly killed Fox.”

Even expecting something less than sweet, I winced. Slater never used words like
screwing
. He rarely even swore. He was like the sanitized, more PC version of Fox, without the killer instinct that had made Fox so good in the ring.

This Slater was a whole new animal.

“He didn’t nearly kill Fox,” I muttered.

“He put him in the hospital. The guy was in agony for a long time.”

That judgmental tone coming from
him
of all people sent me over the edge. “Yeah, well, I guess he’s forgiven him, because he’s sure as hell had no problem sitting Gio at the dinner table in the spot that used to be yours.”

The moment the words were out, I wanted to snatch them back. But it was too late. Slater’s brows drew down and in, closing off his expression until I barely recognized him anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I said miserably. “It’s not like that. I know he misses you.”

“Oh yeah, he misses me. That’s why he came over here to rip my balls off over some new thing Olivia supposedly did to his precious Mia yesterday. Something she couldn’t have done, because she’s not even in the fucking state!”

“Where is she?”

“Back home in fucking Georgia, with her mother.”

“Back in our hometown.” I didn’t wait for his nod before pacing away to place my hands on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. “She left you? When?”

“She left me, the state, the whole situation with Mia and those bastards that attacked her behind.”

The back of my neck cooled as if someone had rubbed an ice cube down my spine. “What bastards? Tell me, please. It’s important.”

“They preyed on her, got close to her, took advantage of her raw emotions because she wanted money for her mother. Mia’s settlement cleaned them out and changed their entire lifestyle.” He held up a hand when I would’ve spoken. “No, don’t say it. I know what happened wasn’t Mia’s fault, but it wasn’t Olivia’s either. She adored her father. She didn’t know what he’d done.”

I whirled on him. “He was a monster. Do you know what he did to my sister? How he raped her, repeatedly, and held her hostage—”

“I know,” Slater said, paling under his tan. “I know. And I agree with you. But Olivia wasn’t to blame for any of that. She was twelve when he took Mia. Twelve, Carly. Just about the same damn age you were when your sister was taken. Did you really understand any of what was happening back then?”

“I understood enough to know he was a horrible person. I’m sorry he was her father, and I’d say I was sorry she got hurt, if she hadn’t turned around and tried to fuck with my sister, who was an innocent victim in all of this.”

“She didn’t.” He shoved his hands through his hair. “All she did was make some phone calls, and follow Mia and Fox a few times. She was curious, and not in a good way. And she hated Mia for ripping apart her family, because she didn’t know how to do anything but blame someone who wasn’t her father. But that was all she did, and she probably wouldn’t have done even if that if Lorenzo Donato hadn’t sought her out in the first place.”

I leaned against the counter, needing the support. “Why?”

“Because he wanted something to use against Mia, and Olivia was a handy target. She was already in New York, sniffing around things she shouldn’t have been, trying to understand. She was fascinated by Mia, just like people can’t stop rubbernecking at car accidents. It wasn’t right, and I’m not excusing it, but in some ways, she’s still a confused little girl inside. They took advantage of her confusion and her pain, just like her father took advantage of Mia.”

My mind was reeling. Too much information, and I didn’t know what any of it meant. Nothing was as straightforward as it seemed on the surface. “If you think those two things are the same, you’re wrong.”

“Lorenzo threatened Olivia, wanted her to do their dirty work and hurt Mia because she disrespected and defied them. Olivia refused, which is why he had his minions rough her up. She’s terrified of them. She stayed with me for a couple weeks, then her fear won out. She’s in hiding now, with her mother. They’re both terrified.” Slater moved forward and gripped my shoulders. “And you’re sleeping with one of those bastards. Olivia said Giovanni is one of their trusted associates. How long until he turns on you and you end up in hiding too—or worse?”

“It’s not like that.”

“No, then you tell me what it’s like. I did my research, and found out Giovanni is from one of the biggest organized crime families in power today.”

“How did you find that out?”

Was it part of a simple Google search? Had I been a willful idiot all along?

Yes
. Yes, I had.

“Liam was a fucking SEAL. He has resources, and therefore so do I. I dug deep, saw some of what they’re into out in Vegas, where they come from. Drug running, prostitution and illegal gambling schemes are just the tip of the iceberg.”

I didn’t speak. I didn’t have enough breath in my lungs. Not even because of what he’d said so far, but because of what I knew was coming. The unholy gleam in Slater’s eyes was all I needed to see to know he was going to bring me to my knees.

To the point I could no longer deflect, or deny.

“His older brother, Dante, is a consigliere in his father’s organization, and he’s wanted for murder. Giovanni was wanted for attempted murder, after his fiancée was gunned down—”

“No. Shut up. Stop.” I shoved his hands off my shoulders and cupped my palm over my mouth as I turned away. I couldn’t listen to this. I was going to being sick, right here. “Please stop.”

“She was pregnant, Carly. She and the baby died, because of him. Because of what he was part of. And now he’s back at it again, except he switched sides. He’s going against his father now, and that means whomever gets too close will go down with him.” He grabbed my shoulder and spun me back. “I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re so sweet, and he’s a fucking bastard—”

“I love him. Okay? I love him.” Hearing the truth echo around me tore a sob from my chest, one that came without tears. It was the crying equivalent of a dry heave. All the racking shudders, none of the relief of release.

“Jesus, Car.”

I wrapped my arms around my waist and bent my head, letting my hair fall down to shield my face. I couldn’t process any of this. As bad as I’d known it was, this was even worse than I’d ever expected. “You don’t know what they did to us both at the club. How they made him touch me.”

Slater gripped my chin and lifted it. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing.” I pulled away from him and rushed for the door. I couldn’t talk about this with him. Couldn’t talk, period.

The person I needed to speak to was Giovanni. But since he wouldn’t tell me what I needed to know, I’d have to do some research of my own. At least I’d try to find out if Olivia truly was in Georgia like Slater seemed to think. If she was, that meant that whomever was hassling my sister was closer to home—and most likely, closer to Gio.

Would that be enough to make him turn away from Marco and Lorenzo and the rest? Or would he just leave us all twisting in the wind?

“Carly,” Slater called, sounding contrite. “Come back. I’m sorry. We’ll talk.”

I kept walking up the hall. Later, I’d worry about Slater. Now, I needed to worry about my sister. And myself.

T
hat night
, I waited through Carly’s sets at the club and drove her home instead of to my place. She didn’t have a lot to say, and I figured the break was a good thing.

It would be a permanent one soon enough.

That pattern of reduced communication didn’t change over the next week. I wasn’t surprised, what with her two jobs and school and studying, but I also wasn’t stupid. Her sudden busyness probably also had to do with finding out my apartment was loaded with weaponry.

As much as I wanted to let her go gracefully, I couldn’t. I had a “special” meeting with Marco and Lorenzo next Wednesday, and I had no idea what the result would be. I’d been pushing for more responsibility within the organization, hoping to get close enough to Roberto to be able to time his comings and goings. All I needed was an opening.

Classic bullet behind the ear, end of story. For him—and me.

But it wouldn’t be easy. Forget getting close to Roberto, I had enough trouble getting close to his underboss, Lorenzo. I suspected this all went back to the conclusions I’d drawn at Mia and Fox’s office at The Cage. They didn’t trust me. This was likely all an elaborate setup, and Carly and I were pawns.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t use their own mistrust against them. I’d work whatever angle I was given. And on Monday, whatever they threw at me, I would throw back.

Saturday night, Carly finished dancing early, and as always, I was waiting. She’d done her shifts back to back instead of with a break in between, which meant she was free to leave the club earlier than usual.

What I should’ve done was drive her home, and ensured she got inside safely. If she was shutting down, it was for the best. Prolonging the agony wouldn’t do either of us any favors.

Instead I took her to the Fall Festival carnival I’d seen being held on a high school field in Brooklyn earlier that day.

We got there late, only about an hour before closing. Luckily it didn’t shut down entirely until after midnight. Some of the game booths had gone dark, or were about to, but some were still open, as were most of the food stands and the rides. As uncommunicative as Carly had been for the past week, she perked up at the sight of rows of balloons just waiting to be popped and the brightly colored Ferris wheel spinning in the cool, crisp night.

“Want to play or ride?” I asked, hoping to see her smile. It was frightening what lengths I’d go to in order to lessen the heaviness in her beautiful eyes.

Heaviness I’d put there, no doubt.

She tugged at the thin gray cardigan sweater she’d pulled on after her set and bit her lip as she studied the booths and rides. “Actually, I’d like a caramel apple. And cotton candy.” She laughed softly and shook her head. “My dad used to take me and Ame to the Field Days every year. We’d try to outdo each other on the ringtoss, and Ame would always win at Whack-A-Mole. But no matter who won, Dad got us both caramel apples and cotton candy.”

“Then a caramel apple and cotton candy it is,” I said, leading the way to the booth that had both.

“Don’t you want any?” she asked once I’d ordered just for her. Then she made a face. “Oh, you’re training. You’re no fun. Just like Ame and Fox.”

“I’ll have some of yours.”

“
Pfft
.”

I handed her the caramel apple and cotton candy as we started to walk, smiling at how her eyes widened at the size of both. She was so expressive, never hiding a thing from me.

Until recently.

She took a bite of the apple and handed it over to me so she could tear into the bag. Before I could deflect it, she was shoving a mouthful of orange and cherry cotton candy into my mouth, and I ate it because she was laughing and that was all I’d wanted.

“I bet that busted your diet,” she teased, thumping me in the stomach.

“I’ll live.”

Just like that, her face closed off. She took another bite of her apple, but her momentary relish was gone.

“What about a game?” I asked, more than a little desperately as we walked past the balloon booth again. I gestured to the prizes in puffy plastic bags waving in the breeze from the eaves of the booth. “I’ll win you a big stuffed animal.”

She frowned. “No one ever wins the big stuffed animals on this game. You have to pop about a thousand balloons to get anything more than those tiny ones.”

“I can do it.” It wasn’t much of an offering in the scheme of things, but dammit, I could give her this.

“You’re just going to waste your money,” she called as I rolled up my sleeves and walked over to the guy manning the booth.

It took twenty minutes and about twenty-five popped balloons, but I won her choice of the house’s prizes. At my side, she stared up at them, her eyes as large as moons.

“No way.” She pointed to a huge panda. “Even those ones in the back?”

“Even those,” the guy said, though he didn’t seem too pleased about it. From the looks of things, he hadn’t moved too many of them today.

I expected her to go for the panda, but she surprised me by pointing to a giant Dalmatian wearing a red fire hat. “That one, please.”

“You won’t be able to carry it,” I said with a laugh, shaking my head as she offloaded her candy to me. “It’s bigger than you.”

“I can so carry it.” She swished her long hair back and grabbed the Dalmatian away from the guy, hugging it to her with a zeal that even made the carnival worker laugh. “See? Mine.”

Amused, I smoothed the hat into place on the dog. “You’re welcome.”

The moment we’d walked past the booth, she leaned up on her tiptoes and surprised me with a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I love it.”

I slid my hand into her hair and turned her face, capturing her mouth before she could slip back. I needed her taste inside me again, like an alcoholic craves his last drink. There was no twelve-step-program that could erase the softness of her glossy lips parting, or her candy-sweet tongue slicking over mine.

Too quickly, the kiss turned from gentle to hungry. I reached down to pull her against me, only to feel a large dog nose jamming into my throat.

“Oops.” She giggled and pulled the dog down out of the way. Sort of. He was too big to tuck anywhere. “Sorry.”

“Did you buy him as a kiss deterrent?”

“Yeah, right. As if anything would keep us from kissing.”

You did. You haven’t touched me all week.

But because that sounded a little too close to the petulance of a kid denied his favorite candy bar, I remained silent.

We headed toward the rides just as one of the carnival workers yelled out that it was last ride of the night.

“Ferris Wheel?” I stroked my hand down the long, loose length of her hair and she tipped her head back. “Maybe we can leave him on the ground so I can kiss you at the top.”

She cast me a look under her lashes, her cheeks pink from either pleasure or the evening’s chill. November had started off cold this year, warning that winter wouldn’t be far behind. “Mr. Costas, that’s a surprisingly romantic suggestion from a hardened fighter such as yourself.”

From the sudden heat at the tips of my ears, it was my turn to flush. I disguised my reaction by burying my face in her hair for a quick kiss. “If you really want to talk about hard…”

She didn’t toss back a flirty comment as she would’ve before, just simply smiled and marched up to the operator of the Ferris wheel. “Sir, could you please help me?”

I didn’t know any red-blooded male that could say no to her. Or female, for that matter.

A moment later, she’d convinced the operator to keep an eye on her stuffed animal. She handed it over, and the guy stared after her as she mounted the steps to the ride with a dazed expression.

Instead of getting jealous, I smiled as I paid. “I know how you feel, buddy,” I said, patting him on the back.

“Oh, she’s yours?” There was no missing the longing in his voice.

My smile dimmed. “Right now, she is.”

Tomorrow would come soon enough.

Awkwardly, I wedged in beside her. “Sure you’re gonna fit, big man?” she teased.

“I would if I could sit you between my legs.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not safe.” But she wiggled until half her body was draped over me and I fit into the seat. Not well, but I fit.

“This probably isn’t either, but I’ve got you.” I held her candy in one hand and hooked my other arm around her as the wheel started to move. “I won’t let you fall.”

Neither of us spoke as the wheel turned. I took in the lights of the city spread out in front of me as we climbed with an awe I rarely felt anymore. The navy sky was studded with stars, as if someone had tossed out a handful of diamonds and they’d scattered everywhere. Darkness hovered at the horizon, before opening up into a world of light and movement. Buildings speared up, so large on the ground and so small up here.

Just as I was small, one life out of billions.

The beauty that surrounded me staggered me. The dazzling play of lights, and reddish-gold curls that teased the back of my hand. With her laughter filling my head and her warmth tucked into my side, at that moment I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

Then she lifted her face to mine, and whispered, “Kiss me,” and I realized that I could.

I wanted to ask for everything, and had the right to ask for none.

Touching my mouth to hers was like breathing. It didn’t require thought. I leaned into her and let the kiss spin out, as tender and chaste as a junior high schooler’s after his first dance. There were no thrusting tongues, no roaming hands. Just the comfort and thrill of her lips heating under mine and returning the pleasure I gave her tenfold.

When the ride ended, we walked off hand-in-hand. The magic of spinning in the night air had restored some of the closeness we’d lost over the last week. I knew I shouldn’t have been happy about that, but I’d always been a contrary bastard.

We’d gotten about ten feet when she let out a squeal and untangled our fingers. “Spotty!”

Spotty, it turned out, was the Dalmatian we’d left behind. She ran back to get him from the ride operator and we carted him and her candy to my truck.

The ride back to my place was quiet, but not like the ride to the carnival had been. This was a peaceful silence, broken occasionally by the sounds of Carly plowing through her cotton candy. She’d eaten more than half the bag by the time we arrived at my building.

“Sure you don’t want some?” she asked as we rode the elevator upstairs. “It’s almost gone.”

“There’s only one thing I want a taste of.” Slipping my fingers in the waistband of her skirt, I tugged her closer and swallowed her laughter with my mouth on hers.

Halfway through the kiss, I glanced down and saw the eager-eyed stuffed dog staring at me. Carly laughed harder as I pulled back.

“Don’t like an audience, huh?”

“Human’s fine.” Realizing the implication of what I said—and the memories it brought back—I rushed ahead. “But that dog looks entirely too real. He’s huge.”

Carly glanced down at him and adjusted his hat. “I always wanted a Dalmatian puppy. They’re so cute. They have such big paws.”

“I’ll buy you a dog someday,” I said, and when she flicked a surprised glance up at me, I felt like a jackass. We wouldn’t have a someday. Why couldn’t I remember that? “Or you can always get yourself one, once you’re living in your own place.”

Her lashes came down to block her expression, but not before I saw the flash of hurt.
Nice save, asshole
.

“Yeah. Maybe,” she said vaguely.

As soon as the doors opened, she picked up the dog and headed down the hall.

I unlocked my apartment door and waved her inside, flipping on the light with the other hand. She set the dog on the couch, paws on the back as if he were excitedly standing on his hind legs.

That was Carly. She never stayed down for long. I admired that just like I admired so much about her.

“I’m starving.” She tossed the cotton candy bag down on the table and ignored the mostly eaten caramel apple I held out to her as she walked past me into the kitchen.

“Still?”

“That’s candy. It doesn’t count as real food. And dancing burns lots of calories.”

She didn’t need to remind me. I’d probably never forget the image of her in that cage, bumping and grinding with her beautiful bare breasts on display for everyone to see. That her shows always made me harder than stone seemed a particularly cruel form of irony.

“Do you feel like—” She opened the refrigerator and broke off, her hand going to her heart. “Oh my God. What is all this?” She bent to sort through the shelves, making noises of pleasure with every item she found. “Fresh pears, and new potatoes, and oh my God, look at these carrots. And leaf lettuce, and jicama, and oh no way! A rutabaga! For real?” She spun to me and smiled wider than I’d ever seen her. “Is it Christmas?”

I had to laugh as I walked toward her and scooped my hand through her windblown hair. “I wish it was, baby,” I said softly.

Because the Andretti mess would all be over then—one way or the other.

“You bought all this for me. Every shelf is jammed full of food.” She shifted back to the refrigerator and
ooh
ed and
aah
ed over more of the contents. “Heirloom tomatoes? Fresh basil. A perfectly ripe eggplant. Even a whole pineapple. I can’t even believe this.”

“Look here too,” I said, tossing out her abandoned caramel apple and opening the first cabinet over the counter.

She darted forward and pushed me out of the way, making me laugh again. “Oh my God,” she whispered reverently, eyeing the shelves of spices and dry ingredients. Everything a good chef would need to prepare almost any kind of meal. “I think I just had an orgasm.”

Giving into my urge to harness a little of that joy for myself, I moved behind her and slipped my hand up under her skirt and along her inner thigh. She wore thigh-high lacy stockings and tiny panties, the kind that a few flicks of my fingers nudged out of the way. Beneath, she was only slightly damp, a challenge I’d never be able to resist.

“Not yet,” I said, kissing the side of her neck.

“I want to make bread,” she said dreamily, tipping her head to the other side to give me more access. “Kneading the dough always gets out all my frustration.”