Bloodied Hands (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 1)

"But it's stressful. I could give you a more low-key position." The elevator doors opened on the bottom floor, and we hurried through the lobby to make it to where I knew Lino's driver and bodyguard would wait on the curb. I nodded to both men, getting friendly smiles in return.

"Miss Mahoney," one murmured respectfully, opening my door for me. I settled into the back seat and buckled in, turning my attention to Lino as soon as the doors closed behind him.

"I need to stand on my own two feet, Lino, and you have to let me," I whispered.

A contented sigh escaped when he reached down and grabbed my legs to pivot me in my seat. He slid the zipper down on my boot, stripping it off to press his thumbs into the arch. We would quickly come to the season where it needed to stop, where I wore pumps to work and wouldn't have socks to protect the secret of my scarred feet.

Since Lino had spent years massaging my feet, my shoulders, taking care of me in every sense of the word, he would know without a doubt that the scars hadn't always been there. "You would be. It's not like you're not a hard-worker."

"No, Lino," I said firmly, tugging my feet back and sliding the one back into my boot. He stared at my legs, his hands hanging in mid-air like he couldn't quite believe I'd stopped him mid-massage. Truthfully, neither could I.

"Okay, what's going on with you?" he whispered, and I knew if there hadn't been seatbelts involved he'd have been in my face. "You're distancing yourself from me. I want to know why."

"Don't be ridiculous. I am not distancing myself from you. You're my best friend."

We rode the rest of the drive in silence, Lino's pissed off energy vibrating next to me. Even the two men in the front seat looked uncomfortable as they glanced back at us warily. Pulling up to Angel's was a relief. I got out of the car quickly, ignoring the way Lino looked ready to kill me. I knew damn well he liked to open my door for me, but I'd meant what I said about needing to stand on my own two feet. The divorce, the complete and total failure of my marriage, made me feel like a failure myself, and I needed to prove that I wasn't the problem. That I wasn't too codependent on my best friend. That I wasn't to blame for the way Connor's anger had simmered and erupted in our final months together.

He growled as he stepped up beside me, pressing a hand to my lower back to guide me inside. The hostess knew him well since he took me to Angel's at least once a month. I tried not to think about the other women he'd probably taken there too, tried to tell myself it didn't matter.

Placing my napkin in my lap, I tried not to flinch when he barked at me. "Is it the divorce?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Would you stop answering all my questions with a question and give me a goddamn answer, Samara? Is he still giving you trouble?" The waiter who filled our water glasses seemed to be comfortable with our conflict, turning a blind eye to it until Lino glared at him and he got the message

to disappear.

"He doesn't want the divorce. I knew this would be a struggle. He has all the resources, and I'm just me." I sighed; I knew what came next.

"I'll handle it."

"No. I don't want you to get involved," I argued.

"Little Dove-"

"Do not Little Dove me."

His features softened, which was always the unintended consequence when I stood up to him. "You never told me what made you file for the divorce."

I pursed my lips, nibbling on one corner and deciding on what I might tell him to justify the seemingly abrupt decision. "He started gambling, was gone most nights. I just don't want to live my life like that, wondering where he is. If the money is really going to gambling or if it's going to hookers or blow. And then wondering if it even matters. That's not the life for me."

"Christ, Samara. You should have told me." His face twisted into a pained expression, and I reached out a hand to grasp his in mine. I gave him a small smile to reassure him.

"What could you have done? My marriage failed. Even if I sent you to stalk him and find out what he was up to, the moment I needed to send you to spy on him would have been the end. I won't be with someone I can't trust, financially, emotionally, and sexually." His hand spasmed, and I fought back my laugh. "Now can we please for the love of God just enjoy our lunch? Please?"

"Anything for you, Little Dove," he whispered, and my heart clenched in my chest at the words I wished were true.

He'd do anything for me.