Accomplice: A Dark Mafia Romance (Romano Brothers Book 3) Page 4

  “Listen up, sweetheart,” I growl. “You’re over your head here. They don’t have motherfuckers like me in White Oak, I can assure you of that. I know you’re playing the feminist, white knight routine, but this isn’t a fucking game. You piss off one of the families, they’ll come after you, your family, anyone you care about. Now, just like you said, this is my terf, my business. I’ll handle it how I see fit.”

  My phone is lying on the table beside us. It dings with a text, but I don’t look that way. I keep my eyes firmly on Harley. She glances at it, and looks at the screen a little too long. I grab her chin, and turn her head gently back towards me.

  “Listen to me, Harley,” I say. “It’s for your own good.”

  And I fucking mean that. I admire that she’s a do-gooder, but there’s no use in losing her life over it.

  Harley bats her eyes, looking down. “My condolences again about your father,” she says, then walks out of the open door.

  For some reason, I feel disappointment. I realize I didn’t want her to leave, but to stay and challenge me further. But there was a fire in her eyes, and I know she’ll be back. The thought sends excited tingles up my spine. I grab the scotch from behind the bar, hoping to dull them. This girl is bad news for me and my entire family.

  Like Pop always told me, no decision in this business is ever easy. Sometimes the right thing seems obvious, but it rarely is. The other families are already watching us. If I start something up with one of them, they could band together to take us out. My brothers are husbands and fathers now. They have too much to lose. I feel sorry for the women Harley told me about, but sometimes I have to look out for my own.

  And if I know Leo and Mateo, that means I can’t tell them about this. They’ll be ready to go in, guns blazing, without a second thought.

  I need to forget about this, forget about Harley. The scotch helps with that some, but not nearly enough.

  Chapter Five

  ————————

  Harley

  I wait to scream until I get in my car. Once the door is closed, and the radio turned on full blast, I glare at the ceiling, howling at the top of my lungs.

  “Asshole,” I yell, hitting the steering with all of my strength.

  This sets the horn blaring. I have to hit it three more times to get it to stop. I immediately apologize to my old clunker, which I can’t help but think of as a person. Through the years, she’s had to withstand plenty of my emotional outbursts. I stroke the dash soothingly.

  The erratic, pent-up energy has left my body, and now I’m just disappointed. Vince was my last chance. It’s obvious he’s not going to help me. And what was that back there? That was the most confusing conversation of my life. Even though Vince shot me down, refused to help, I couldn’t stop thinking about fucking him. I’d already had him undressed in my mind. If the conversation had’ve gone another way, I would’ve gotten naked and tangled up with him, no doubt about it. He’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in person, and seems to have a magnetism around him, especially when he flashes that gorgeous smile. I’m not loose with men. In fact, I barely think about them since I’m usually busy with something more important. My list of love conquests is embarrassingly sparse, especially for someone of my age. But, Vince is different.

  And I fucking hate him.

  I rest my head on the steering wheel, closing my eyes.

  “Get it together, Redding,” I say.

  Maybe he’ll do something about Unit A on his own, but I’m not optimistic. I grit my teeth, trying to purge from my mind the image of the lion, sketched in precise dark lines, on his gorgeous muscular torso.

  ————————

  I’d hoped Patty was bluffing when she quit, but she wasn’t. She didn’t show up for work after our meeting. I assume she moved to Floria like she’d said. I just wish she’d given me her new address or phone number.

  I’m assigned a new partner. His name is Walter, and is the last person on anyone’s list to work with. Looks like I’ve drawn the short straw this time. Walter is retiring in five years. I know that, because he never lets anyone forget it. He uses it as an excuse to be worthless.

  Walter makes me drive all the time while he reads and forwards emails on his tablet. It kind of works for me, though. During quiet times, I check on Unit A. I’ve even found the perfect vantage point about a block over. With my binoculars, I can peer through buildings straight to Unit A. Over a period of about two weeks since I talked to Vince, I keep watch on the building. Cars drive in and out at all hours of the day and night. It’s mostly men. They drive up to the fence, and get out to unlock it with a key.

  It’s business as usual, every fucking day. I know Vince hasn’t done a thing. I wish I could forget about him, and find someone else to help me, or do it myself. Both of those options are impossible.

  One night, I lower the binoculars from my eyes, and say under my breath, “It’s time for Plan B.”

  Walter looks up from his tablet as if to ask what I’ve said, but decides against it, completely losing interest. With an irritated sigh, he goes back to his emails.

  ————————

  I’m quite proud of Plan B, but I wonder if I can actually pull it off. To go through with it, I’d have to break countless fraud laws. When I was at the pool hall, I’d caught a glimpse of Vince’s phone. He had an app for one of those car service companies that uses independent drivers.

  I go on the site, and create a driver profile using a fake name. I even pay a company in Bulgaria for fake reviews and five star ratings. The beauty of this app is that users have profiles and ratings too, so I can see exactly who places the call. When I’m off duty, I drive around the area close to the pool hall, waiting for Vince to summon me.

  This isn’t about seeing him again, I reassure myself as I circle around the block.

  It takes a lot of energy to keep my desire in check, but it shouldn’t derail my mission. I’m just attracted to an incredibly hot guy. When I picture him, the glittering sensation that warms my core is a physical response, nothing more. Though I have to admit, I’m looking forward to seeing his darkly good looks in my rearview mirror.

  On the night his call comes in, I’m unexpectedly embarrassed of Old Clunker.

  “This isn’t about me,” I tell myself, pulling my hoodie over my head.

  Vince is waiting in front of the pool hall when I pull up. He’s dressed to go out in a black t-shirt and dark jeans. His hair is carefully styled, and his face clean shaven. He looks gorgeous, though I prefer his careless, disheveled look from the night before. The sleeves of the t-shirt are rolled up a few times, revealing his cut biceps. I start breathing heavily. I can’t let myself get distracted.

  I mumble a greeting when he slides into the backseat. Vince is staring at his phone, and barely looks at me.

  “Fifth and Stern,” he says, his voice cutting and cold.

  I nod, and start to drive. I study Vince in the backseat, the sharp angle of his nose as he stares at the phone in his hand, his strong, broad chin and jaw. It’s the perfect opportunity to absorb his physique, though I have to be mindful to keep my eyes on the road. There’s an aroma that wafts off him, not cologne, but something more natural. It’s intoxicatingly spicy, and probably full of pheromones, since it stirs something deep inside of me.

  Vince finally looks up when what should’ve been a five minute drive has morphed into at least a ten minute one.

  “Hey, I said Fifth and Stern. Did you hear me?”

  I grip the steering wheel, gathering my courage. Vince doesn’t take kindly to my silence. He leans over the front seat.

  “I’m not paying for extra milage,” he warns.

  I gulp, staring straight ahead. Why am I losing my nerve now? I feel Vince look at me more closely. I turn to him, letting the hoodie fall to my shoulders. His first reaction is shock, then anger, and finally, his mouth spreads into a smile. He collapses in the backseat, laughing his ass off. This goes on for a long t
ime, and it starts to piss me off. I’d rather he’d yell than laugh in my face.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Vince says, struggling to speak through the laughter. “You’re a lunatic. That’s what it is. You’re crazy.”

  “I’m not-“ I say, my voice trailing off with a huff. Sure, maybe this plan is a little crazy, but my motivations are anything but.

  Vince leans forward again, draping his hands over either side of my seat. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. “Did you almost say you weren’t crazy? You are, Harley. You just kidnapped the head of the Romano Family.”

  I shake my head curtly. “Kidnap? Let’s not argue technicalities, okay?”

  This makes Vince laugh again, then he’s suddenly serious. “Listen, I admire your persistence, which is why I’m going to let you off easy. Take me to Stern and Fifth, would you? I’m meeting people there.”

  I sit up straight. My voice is shaky when it comes out. “Give me an hour, Vince. That’s all I ask.”

  Vince turns the intensity of his gaze to my face. “You’re going to make me late,” he says, his voice gruff. “I’m never late.”

  “I just want you to see for yourself, that’s all. Give me an hour, and I promise, you’ll never hear from me again.”

  “Turn around,” Vince demands.

  I press my lips tightly together and stare defiantly into his eyes. Vince relaxes in the backseat, realizing he doesn’t have a choice. He checks his watch, then glares at me.

  “One hour,” he says.

  After a few minutes of silent, tense driving, I park a block over from the warehouse, right in front of the vantage point. Vince looks out of the window with disinterest.

  “What am I looking at?” he asks.

  I reach for the binoculars in the glove box, and see that my hands are trembling. I hear Vince get out of the car. What’s he doing? I think. Is he running away from me? Going to the unit to give me up?

  I feel exhilarating relief when Vince opens the passenger side door and gets it. Then I feel something else with his large, looming form so close to me. It’s not easy to describe. It’s a pull that starts deep within the cellular level of my body, something above reason, and all instinct. Vince snatches the binoculars from me.

  “You’re not my chauffeur,” he says, explaining the seat change. “Obviously.”

  I crack my knuckles, trying to snap myself out of it, and show Vince where to look. For several minutes, he watches stoically as a parade of cars and men go in and out of the unit. I try to read his expression, but his face is still. I clear my throat, breaking the silence.

  “Those are real people in there,” I say. My voice is quiet at first, but gradually grows stronger. “Women, probably held there against their will, or brainwashed and manipulated to comply. They’re being exploited for financial gain. They’re suffering.”

  “There are people suffering all over the world, at all times,” Vince says. “You can’t help them all.”

  I dig my fingernails into my palms to keep myself from getting angry. “You can help them. It’s in your power.”

  My words hang in the air for a silent moment. I can hear my desperate breathing, and the pounding in my heart. Vince lowers the binoculars slowly, then carefully, deliberately, leans over into the driver’s seat. He’s as close to me as he can get without touching me. My back is flush against the window as I cower away from him.

  “You think it’s that easy?” he says, his voice rumbling.

  I see the muscles in his jaw tense, and in an enlightening moment, I realize who I’m dealing with. Those broad, strong hands have probably, no, definitely killed people, and in horrifying ways. Vince seems to smell my fear. He smiles, the deep dimples carving holes into his cheeks. He gets a questioning look in his eye.

  “What makes you think you can trust me?” he asks, getting in even closer. “If you knew anything about me, you wouldn’t be alone with me on a dark, deserted street, with no one around to help you.”

  I’m trembling, and I gasp involuntarily. Vince lets out a dark chuckle. He brings his hand to my face like he’s going to touch my cheek, then stops short.

  “I asked you a question. What makes you think you can trust me?”

  The window pane is cold and slick against the back of my head. In my cramped position, I’m somehow able to straighten my posture. He’s scaring the shit out of me right now, but I can’t back down, not when there’s important work to be done. I lick my lips.

  “Because if you were really as bad as you’d have me believe, you’d have killed me already for sniffing around.” Vince listens intently, so I continue. “I’ve done some research on the Nabatovs and the Salvatores. You took them out for good reason. I’m sure there was a price to pay, just like there is now. I know I’m asking you to sacrifice, but I don’t know who else to ask.”

  I breathe in sharply, overwhelmed by the warmth swirling in my belly. With Vince so close to me, I don’t know whether to be scared or turned on. I end up being a lot of both. Vince narrows his eyes, turning over what I’ve just said. After a moment, he meets my gaze. I feel his hand on the side of my torso. When he looks at me, there’s the intensity, but it’s different. His eyes are laser focused, and his upper lip curls. He leans into me, and I realize he’s going to kiss me.

  My mouth falls open and I blink rapidly in surprise. Before I know it, Vince’s hot, soft lips are on mine, and his tongue is exploring the inside of my mouth. He grips the sides of my torso with strong hands, and makes a grunting noise. Endorphins overtake me. I bat my eyes closed, and fall into the kiss. I clutch at the back of his head, tangling my fingers in his hair. His presence is large and dominating, exuding power. My erotic impulses tell me I want him to own me.

  Vince pulls away from the kiss with a primal growl.

  “I can’t help you, Harley,” Vince says. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

  I’m trying to process this, but Vince’s hand is traveling up my shirt and it feels so fucking good. He grabs my breast and gives it a squeeze.

  “I can give you one night of incredible sex,” Vince says, his fingers wriggling inside of my bra. “And that’s it.”

  He rubs my nipple, making it stiffen. Blood pulses between my legs, engorging my clit. Vince bends down and softly kisses my neck. For a moment, nothing matters besides his hot lips against my skin, and the tip of his finger coaxing my nipple, until I remember what I’m here for. I summon every bit of willpower I posses, and push him away from me. My clitoris throbs with disappointment.

  “No, thank you,” I say, harshly.

  Vince clenches his teeth. For a second, I don’t think he’s going to honor my wishes. With a frustrated exhale, he backs away.

  “If you’re not going to help me, you’re just wasting my time,” I say.

  Vince shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says under his breath.

  I smooth my disheveled hair down, then drive away. Vince doesn’t say anything to me during the ride, or when I let him out at Fifth and Stern.

  Vince

  ————————

  I walk into the bar on a mission. I have to get my mind right, forget about Harley. The best way to go about doing that is to drink and fuck her out of my system. It shouldn’t be hard. My brothers and I have always been able to get any chick we want, and with the two of them off the market, I had my pick.

  I find Leo and Mateo standing at the bar. I nod to both of them, then order three shots. This is a rare night out with all three of us, and it only happens about once a month. I’m supposed to spend this time hanging out with my brothers, but the crazy cop chick has me so fucked up I can’t think straight.

  Why did I kiss her? In the moment, it didn’t feel like a choice. I just did it. It felt right, and so did her soft skin under my hand.

  But it’s not right. If Pop knew that I’m lusting after a cop, he’d roll in his grave. It’s not just bad business, it’s downright insane.

  And that’s problem. The more I
tell myself I can’t have her, the more I want her. I drain my shot in one gulp.

  “Want another?” I ask my brothers.

  They both decline, so I order another shot just for myself.

  “What’s with you?” Mateo asks. “You seem, I don’t know, tense.”

  Leo grabs my shoulder and shakes it. “Loosen up, bro.”

  I raise my shot glass in the air. “That’s what I’m trying to do,” I say, before throwing it back.

  Leo and Mateo exchange worried glances, but don’t say anything to me. I know what they’re thinking, that I should lay off the booze, but I already know that.

  I turn around and examine the crowd. There are plenty of hot chicks to choose from. I check out several pairs of tan, toned legs, and big tits, but none of them do anything for me. Whenever a girl catches me checking them out, they receptively bite their lip, inviting me to seduce them. It would be so easy, but none of them are her.

  The three of us sit at a table. I order a beer instead of liquor so they stop looking at me funny. After a little business talk, Leo and Mateo start talking about diapers and cartoons like they always do. I peel the label off the beer bottle. I don’t have anything to add to their conversation.

  I tell them I’m going to the bathroom. On the way there, I order another shot behind their back and drink it quickly. The liquor’s not touching the roiling ball of energy inside of me. My heart’s been pounding since I first tasted Harley’s mouth. If she wasn’t a cop, if I wasn’t who I am, who knows what could happen.

  Despite the three shots, I feel stone cold sober when I go to take a piss. While washing my hands, and force myself to stare at my reflection in the mirror.

  It’s been too long since you got laid, I tell myself. Just go out there and pick one.