Nobody hurt her. Not anymore.
But she was right. I took a deep breath. I wasn’t fit enough to go kill Balestra in front of a dozen of his soldiers and lieutenants. I’d go running in half-cocked and die before I even opened my mouth.
I shoved my hand in my pocket and pulled out a phone. I held it to her. “This is for you.”
She blinked at me and took it. “What’s this?”
“Burner. You need one so we can communicate. Keep it hidden.”
She nodded and shoved it down the neck of her dress. Nestled it between her full breasts. Fuck, that distracted me again.
“You’re smarter than I give you credit for.”
I grinned, lips twitching. “Not smart enough to avoid all this.” I turned and faced her again. My head buzzed. Balestra. Some Russian from Dallas. And Cap, looking at me with those big green eyes, making everything seem golden bright and strange.
She looked at me. Neither of us spoke. Cars rolled past and someone laughed loud. A couple stumbled along nearby, walking arm in arm, talking to each other really quiet. I wondered if I’d ever have that. I didn’t care. I had Cap, right here, right now.
“I should go back,” she whispered. “I really don’t want to.”
“They’ll notice.”
“I know. I’m supposed to meet him. Maxim.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Play along. Promise me you won’t do anything without talking to me first.”
“Cap—”
“Swear it, Mal. If I’m putting my ass on the line for you, I want to be a part of whatever you do.”
I softened. I nodded. “Okay. I’ll call first.”
“Thank you.” She chewed her lip again. It drove me wild. She shifted closer and put her hands on my sides and slipped them around to grip my back. She hugged me tight like that. I held her close, breathing her smell, and when she pulled back, we lingered close.
Years and years flooded between us. All the messed-up things we’d done together with Carmine. All the unspoken need. All the guilt and anger and regret. It was heavy, thick with the slime of all the sins we’d never answer for.
I leaned down and kissed her.
Soft, at first. Just my lips brushing against her.
But something happened. It was like I snapped a lock, and all the feelings I’d kept at bay for so long broke free.
She kissed me back and I turned her and pushed her back against the wall.
She gasped as my lips found hers. Tighter, deeper. I tasted her tongue and teeth and mouth. She was heaven, honey, warm, delicious. She kissed like she’d been made for me. I growled into her and she moaned right back. My hands moved along her body, cupped her ass, her hips. I wanted to fuck her right there. Savage her. But as soon as I began to let my guard fall, I remembered Carmine and what we were doing.
I pulled away, breathing hard.
Her lips were pink and swollen. Her teeth hung open, parted and white.
“Mal,” she whispered.
And my name broke me. God damn, it broke me.
“You gotta go back.” I peeled myself away. What the hell was I doing?
She was Carmine’s girl. She’d never be mine, not ever. Her daddy wanted to marry her off to some Russian, and here I was, kissing her in an alley like a beast. She deserved better than some blood-stained killer like me. She deserved a real life, like something Carmine could’ve given her.
I wouldn’t let her settle.
She stared at me and didn’t speak. We hung like that, suspended in the moment, until she turned. She adjusted herself and took a deep breath.
“Call me,” she said, and she left.
I watched her go. Hips swaying. Ass like heaven.
I didn’t deserve that. Not even a stolen kiss.
I had work to do. Lives to take. And Cap was a distraction I couldn’t afford.
She left, and I wrenched myself away from the Emma Hotel, burning up pavement, getting away as fast as I could before I did something stupid.
Chapter 12
Capri
Mal’s kiss burned my lips as I sat at the table in the back.
I was dizzy and brain-dead. I always knew I wanted him, but finally tasting his lips and feeling his rough hands on my body as he pressed me back against that wall—it was too much. It fried something. I was a mess of repressed feelings.
Sin, shame, remorse. But no regret. I’d never regret him.
For years when we were friends, I’d picture what it was like. I’d close my eyes and imagine making out with Carmine—and that did nothing. It was like kissing my brother. Even though I was supposed to marry him, he never made me feel that special way, the tangled-up-freaking-out sort of happy dizziness that came with a crush, or love, or lust, or whatever.
But when I turned that same imagination onto Mal—fireworks.
Pure, explosive fireworks.
And I’d always felt terrible about it. Carmine didn’t love me and didn’t plan on loving me, but he did seem set on following through with the marriage. “Why the hell not, Cap? We’re good friends, and shit, we might make good partners. You’re the only person that can put up with me for more than ten minutes. And you’re hot as hell. So why not?” I always thought I’d wanted it too.