Shielded Wrongs (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 4)

“None. He’s a dick and apparently has a serious lack of boundaries, but he’s not a criminal. He’s a pest. That’s all.”

Matteo turned his attention to Ryker. “Call Campbell and set up surveillance,” he said, summoning the Bellandi private investigator. “I want eyes on him just to be safe.”

“Stop it!” I argued. “There’s a difference between claiming you’re protecting me from your shit and getting involved in my conflict with my ex-boyfriend.”

“Not if they might be one and the same,” Enzo growled, crossing his arms over his chest. His hazel eyes were dark as he stared at me. “It sounds like he’s a security threat.”

“You’re being paranoid,” I argued, turning away from him.

“Better I be paranoid than you be dead,” he said, approaching the island and slamming a handgun down onto the surface. “One bullet, Carina,” he growled, reaching up with his right hand and touching his thumb to the center of my forehead. “Meant to go right between your fucking eyes while Ivory watched and they made her record it. If you don’t give a shit about your own life, maybe you care about hers." His words struck me exactly where he wanted to, making me flinch back from the force as they slammed into me.

Matteo’s brow furrowed as he turned his attention to Enzo, staring at the back of his head before his eyes connected with mine briefly. Ivory and Luna and my family were the only tools someone could use against me. The only threat that could work to keep me in line. It didn’t change the fact that Patrick wasn’t a criminal or capable of the things they accused him of, but when it came down to it, I couldn’t risk that I might be wrong.

Not when lives hung in the balance.

“Fine,” I agreed. “Look into him, but beyond that my dating life is none of your business.”

His nostrils flared, his face close to mine as he moved in on me. Those deep hazel eyes held mine, as if he could compel me to take back the words. A sinister smirk tilted his lips up, contrasting with the rage etched into the lines of his face. “Whatever you say, Baby Girl,” he whispered, shoving off the counter and tucking the gun into the back of his jeans.

He snatched Smaug off my shoulder, the poor lizard looking traumatized as the man cradled the small reptile in his giant hands and ran his left index finger over his tiny head gently before returning him to his tank. The cold fury in Enzo’s eyes never faded as he took a seat at the island next to me in silence and Ivory prattled on in an attempt to lighten the mood.

My finger tapped against my thigh as I bit my lip to suppress the urge to scream. Even in a kidnapping attempt, it was never about me. Just a means to an end to get to Ivory.

That shouldn’t have stung.

But it did.

Music blasted over the speakers. The sound pulsed through my strained muscles with the need to move despite that familiar fatigue that came from a hard workout. I'd never been one of those trainers who sat back and watched. I always had to be in on the action and moving. After the scene at the Bellandi Estate, I’d worked my body even harder than normal to get rid of the lingering rage in my body.

I moved through the room, locking up supply closets and back doors after the last of the evening rush filtered out through the front entrance. Enzo's gaze felt heavy on me as I worked, but I refused to care as I danced to the beat and went through the motions of my lock-up routine.

Moving to one of the empty rings, I hopped up and slid between the two ropes. Turning back, I grinned down at him. With his arms crossed over his chest, and leaning against the wall with his feet kicked out in front of him, he raised his brows at me. A slow smile took over that brutally handsome face. There was nothing in this world quite as sinful as Lorenzo Vescovi. I knew it down to my bones, an unbreakable truth imprinted on my soul that I couldn’t even try to deny.

I was no innocent virgin. I'd had my share of fun, but I'd never had him.

If I wanted to maintain my sanity, it should probably stay that way. Even if it felt like a crime against humanity not to take him for a spin and see if he could live up to all the promise in those observant hazel eyes of his.

He’d been quiet, lurking dangerously behind every move I made, but never moving to take out his aggression on any of the equipment. With the rage simmering in his body, I felt the need to tempt it to the surface. To see what he was capable of, and maybe, if I was lucky, I’d annoy him enough that he’d see I wasn’t worth the effort.

Everyone else knew it. It was time he did too.

"Come on, Big Boy. Nobody to see me humiliate you now," I teased. All day he'd watched me, studying every move I made just a little too closely for comfort. All the fixation he kept attuned to me, even while he worked on his tablet, threatened to unravel the carefully laid out disguise I'd cultivated over the years.

It was part of me, but the outrageous behavior also helped protect me from people seeing the little signs of my disorder. Only Ivory knew the truth, and even that was barely a glimpse into the storm surging inside me every time I glanced around any space I inhabited.

He pursed his lips, that smile broadening to reveal perfectly symmetrical teeth, and gave a tantalizing sweep of his tongue over them. "I can't have you knowing what I'm capable of. Not when you're still planning to bolt the second you get a chance." His words were so similar to the thoughts I’d had only a moment before that I had to work not to show him a genuine reaction.

I gasped, clutching a hand to my chest in mock outrage instead. "Come on, Lorenzo," I purred. "Why would I try to run from you?"

He uncrossed those arms, his broad shoulders seeming even larger as he shoved off the wall and approached the ring slowly. There was nothing objective in his gaze as it ran up my body, from my feet to the booty shorts hugging my thighs and bare stomach revealed by my sports bra. My abs twitched, feeling the fire he lit inside me with just that one glance.

Being higher than him, than anyone, never stopped being a strange, heady sensation. It was part of my addiction to the fighting ring. Being above and looking down on other people, I could almost imagine what it might be like to be taller than 4'11".

With outstretched arms, he grabbed the top rope around the ring and tugged it down as he st

ared at me. A predatory grin played at the sharp curve of his lips, an overwhelming tease in and of itself.

Those lips were made for sinning.