Page 20

Luca

The private terminal at Seabrooke Airport sits apart from the main concourse, a sleek glass structure reserved for those too rich and pampered to even think of waiting in commercial flight security lines with the common folk. Gray clouds hang low over the runway, and mid-March winds cut across the tarmac as I descend the stairs from the Gulfstream. The chill bites deep, a stark contrast to the unusually sunny weather I enjoyed in southern Italy.

The jet engines wind down behind me, their high-pitched whine fading into the background noise of distant commercial flights. A black SUV waits on the tarmac, and my driver Danny stands near the front. My stride falters mid-step when my eyes settle on a second figure. I can’t believe my eyes. Marco is leaning on metal crutches beside the back passenger door.

I grin with uncharacteristic glee and call out, “What the hell are you doing here?” He just had surgery four days ago. He shouldn’t even be out of the hospital, let alone standing on a windy tarmac waiting to greet me.

“Welcoming committee of one.” He’s smiling, but even so I can see the strain on his face, and the pallor beneath his tanned skin.

“Your doctor know you’re here?” I’m so damn happy to see him, I’d love to hug him. But I’m not really a hugger, and he’d probably die of shock if I tried.

“I fired him when he said I needed bed rest.” The corner of his mouth twitches as if he’s suppressing a smile.

I grab his shoulder, still grinning. “It’s good to have you back.”

He lifts his dark brows. “Did you just admit to missing me?”

“I think I did.” My face feels warm, but I don’t care. It’s been hard to function without my second by my side. From the outside, things probably looked the same to a casual observer, but for me, it’s been a lonely slog.

“Then it was worth the extra pain meds I’ll need in an hour.”

A corporate jet taxis past, momentarily drowning out conversation. Once it’s past, I nod toward the waiting vehicle. “Let’s get in the car. It’s too noisy and cold out here.”

He swings his crutches clumsily toward the vehicle, and I resist the urge to help him. He’d hate it if I tried to assist him. He’s too prideful for his own good. So instead of lending a hand, I wait patiently as he swaps the crutches around a few times until he figures out the puzzle, and manages to get into the SUV.

Once we’re inside the warm car, he rests his head against the back of the seat and lets out a groan. “Can’t believe I fractured my fibula. Although, if I had to break a bone in my leg, that was one of the best ones. But I fucking hate being incapacitated.”

“You’re hardly that. Maybe you can’t run a marathon, but I wouldn’t want you mad at me. You’re too good of a shot.” I slip out of my coat, and stretch my legs out in front of me. “It’s good to be home. I think this is the first time I’ve relaxed since I heard DeLuca died. I had to watch my back twenty-four-seven over there. Even with security, I couldn’t let down my guard. Too many people had too much at stake.”

“Were the factions hard to deal with?” He rubs his thigh as if he’s in pain. “I’m sure everyone there hoped they’d get your blessing.”

I laugh gruffly. “The bosses wavered between kissing my ass and giving me death glares.”

“Figures. Who’d you end up choosing to take DeLuca’s place?”

I exhale tiredly. “I ended up going with Antonio Vassallo. He’s old-school but pragmatic. He also has ties to our family. Dad trusted him. He wasn’t the most obvious choice, but he’s someone I can depend on to maintain our shipping interests.”

“I remember Antonio. He’s a solid pick.”

I grin. “Tell that to Salvatore “The Serpent” Bianchi. He looked like he was going to cry when I didn’t pick him.”

“He would have been a good pick too.”

“Yeah, but he lacks subtlety, and could bring unwanted attention. I went with someone who has more experience. I think I made the right choice.” I sit up and lean toward the mini bar. I pour myself a glass of bourbon and turn to offer one to Marco.

He waves me off. “I’d love a drink, but I took a shitload of pain meds to make this little trip. I don’t want to accidentally kill myself.”

I grimace. “Please don’t. I need you.”

Marco’s face splits in a grin. “You’re practically gushing today. This is so unlike you.”

I swirl the amber liquid in the crystal glass. “That’s because you’re irreplaceable.” I meet his surprised gaze. “I’ll probably never say that again, so treasure the moment.”

“I will,” he says softly.

I sip my bourbon, then say, “I figured out the rat bastard who put the hit on DeLuca.”

“Already?” Marco leans forward, eyes bright. “Who was it?”

I purse my lips, enjoying the bite from the bourbon. “Maxim Volkov.”

Marco’s eyes bug. “No shit? The Russians?”

“Yep. The Volkov Organization was trying to expand into Mediterranean shipping routes. They did their best to make the hit on DeLuca look like an inside job to destabilize La Fratellanza.”

“What a dick move.”

I grimace. “To be honest, it almost worked. The bosses over there were only too willing to suspect each other. There’s a real lack of loyalty between them all. That’s something Antonio should be able to improve upon. He has a calm, steady way of leading. I trust him to stabilize things.”

“If anyone can do it, Antonio can. I assume you’ve made Maxim pay for what he did?”

“Me?” I fake an innocent expression. “Why, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

He laughs, but there’s the sheen of sweat on his upper lip, and he winces as he moves to adjust his position. “Please tell me he’s swimming with the fishies.”

“I wouldn’t do that to the fishies. They might get food poisoning,” I say. “He had an unfortunate motorcycle accident. Went right off a cliff.” I make whooshing sound.

He smiles, but I can see how hard he’s trying to hide that he’s hurting.

“You’re in a lot of pain, aren’t you?” I ask.

“Nah. I can handle one little broken bone.”

I study him and then shoot off a text to Isabella asking if she can help play nursemaid to Marco for a few days. I don’t bother running it by Marco. He’d only squash the idea. Five seconds later my phone dings with a response from Isabella saying she’s happy to help.

I turn to him. “I’m going to have Danny drop you off at your home.” He opens his mouth to argue, but I talk over him. “I’m sending Isabella over to take care of you for a few days. She’s already confirmed she’s happy to do it.”

“What?” He bugs his eyes. “No, that’s not necessary. I’m telling you I’m fine.” He gestures dismissively toward the leg that’s in a cast. “It’s one little bone. I’ve broken lots of bones before.”

“I’m aware. I’m also aware that you’d say you were okay if you had an axe in your skull,” I mutter. “You shouldn’t have met me at the airport. As happy as I was to see you, you’re not going to heal if you push yourself before you’re ready. Why are you so gung-ho to get back to work? Shouldn’t you milk this for time off like a normal person?”

He avoids my gaze. “There’s too much going on right now. I mean, you have the situation with Luigi getting shot, and then this thing in Italy, and that hockey guy to deal with. I can’t just sit on the sidelines. It feels wrong.”

I smile, taking in his grumpy expression. “I appreciate that you want to protect me. You’re a good friend. But Luigi is fine, and I handled that situation with Sergei Kovalev already. The thing in Italy seems to be smoothed over for now. You need rest, Marco. You don’t need to worry about me.”

He narrows his eyes. “And the hockey guy? Is he handled too?”

I tense at the mention of Evan. “He’s all settled in at my home, if that’s what you mean.” I pour myself more bourbon, mostly so I don’t have to meet his eyes.

“How’s that going?” He sounds genuinely curious. “Did you claim your prize yet for saving his ass?”

“No.” I sigh and lean back against the leather upholstery. “He’s as prickly as a cactus.”

Marco’s dark brows knit. “Still? Even after all you’ve done for him?”

“Yep.” I meet his gaze. “He’s an ungrateful little shit.”

He studies me. “I can’t believe he’s not showing you his… er… appreciation. He should be down on his knees sucking your dick every night. You saved his rebellious ass and you didn’t have to.”

“I know, right?” I scowl. “But he’s sure as hell not offering anything up. In fact, most of the time he looks like he’d love to slit my throat.”

Marco laughs. “Maybe that’s his style of foreplay.”

“No, I know what he’s like when he wants to fuck, remember?” I shift uneasily, riddled with frustration. “I don’t get why he’s still being so standoffish. I mean, I’ve done the things I promised I’d do. He’s alive because of me. You’d think he’d want to show me a little gratitude.”

Marco rubs his stubbled chin, looking thoughtful. “It’s your right to collect on your debt. He agreed to your terms. You should just go for it.”

“I’m not going to force the guy,” I say, shuddering. “I’ve never had to coerce anyone into sleeping with me.”

“No,” Marco murmurs. “They’re usually only too willing. From what you told me, you two had great sexual chemistry the night you met. That attraction is probably still there. Maybe he can’t see you as that guy now because of all you’ve been through.”

“God, that feels like a decade ago.” I sip my drink, remembering my first night with Evan. “We really did click though, until I had to drop the hammer on him.”

“I think you just have to put some time into him. You need to remind him that you’re not just Luca Barone the mob boss.” He smirks. “You’re also just a man whose dick needs a little lovin’.”

I snort a laugh. “That was touching. You should write romance novels.”

His grin widens. “I’m just trying to help.”

I smile grudgingly. “I’m glad to have you back. I haven’t had anyone to talk to. I’m in unchartered territory with Evan. I can’t figure him out.”

“Maybe you need to ask yourself, do you really care what makes him tick?” His expression is serious. “Or do you just want to fuck him?”

I consider his question. “I definitely want the latter. I’m not sure about the other thing. Maybe I don’t need to figure him out. I just need to figure out how to get in his bed.”

“Exactly. Why don’t you take him someplace where you can show him off? You can spread the message that he’s yours, but also dazzle him with your charm.”

“Yes, I haven’t tried charming him since that first night.” I’m surprised to feel butterflies in my stomach at the idea of spending time alone with Evan. “Mario Spongilla’s daughter is getting married this Sunday. I could drag Evan to that and show him a good time.”

“Good idea.” He gives an exaggerated wink. “Maybe then he’ll show you a good time too.”

I grin. “We can only hope.”

“If nothing else, doting on him for a day will lay the groundwork for seducing him eventually. Sleeping with you is part of the bargain, whether he likes it or not. He agreed to that.”

“Evan has an away game Saturday.” I frown. “Do you think he’ll be too tired to go to the wedding with me? Maybe I should let him rest up a little before I take him somewhere.”

Marco lifts his brows. “I’m sorry, did you just consider putting another person’s needs ahead of your own?”

“I think I did.” I smirk. “Or maybe I just don’t want him so tired he can’t put out if the moment arises.”

He chuckles. “Ahhh, yes. There’s the selfish bastard I know and love.”