“Luciano Marchetti. Goes by Luca. He’s a nobody to Caselli. Lower than Maldonado was.”
“Trying to make a name for himself?” Pete asked.
Cole dragged his hand down his face. “I guess. Maybe Caselli is giving him a shot to replace Bruno.”
“Makes sense,” Lee said. “With the guys we’ve taken out, plus new info, he hasn’t replaced Bruno Gallo. Not really. He’s tried a few guys out, but they haven’t done it for him.” She took a step closer, peering intently at Cole’s TV. “The other guy… Isn’t that Mickey Donati?”
Cole hit rewind. The three figures strolled forward again in slow-mo. He hit pause. “Yup. Caselli’s freakin’ nephew. Another shocker, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Yeah,” Pete said. “Sending his blood…”
“Oh, Caselli doesn’t give a shit that they’re related,” Cole said, meeting his gaze.
“Then why?”
“He’s a flippin’ idiot. Dumb as a box of rocks, for real. And young. Probably not even twenty-five.” Cole made a face.
Pete swallowed back a wince and forced his eyes on the TV, studiously
not
looking at Nikki. She wasn’t twenty-five yet either. Her birthday was a month away, in August. Guess information about her was a perk of taking her statement and having to write a report. But it made wanting her even worse.
Letch.
“We brought him in for a chat a few months ago. He didn’t give us anything, but when we saw him about a week later, his arm was in a cast and he had a nice limp. Caselli didn’t have him killed, but someone beat the shit out him. Probably at his order,” Lee said.
“Guess the little blood tie kept him alive, though,” Pete said.
“I’m just shocked he would entrust such an
important
job to these two. I mean, he wanted Berto and his woman dead, right?” Cole gestured to the TV. “Mickey’s only in the organisation at all ’cause he’s Caselli’s sister’s kid. Now Luca, on the other hand, fancies himself as the world’s biggest badass. Not surprised he took out your dude.”
“He had to be the driver,” Nikki said.
Cole and Lee swung their heads around.
Nikki squirmed next to him and he squeezed her hand again. She inched closer but he still didn’t allow himself to put his arm around her.
“Good thinking,” Pete said, giving her a smile. He almost teased her about being his junior detective after all, but with the mood she’d been in all day, he didn’t bother. Probably wouldn’t coax the smile he was dying to see.
“Makes sense. You said you saw these two leave Health Solutions?” Cole’s tone was gentle as he addressed her.
Nikki sucked in a breath and nodded. Her lovely breasts rose and fell and Pete made himself look away.
He met Cole’s steel eyes. “Is Marchetti smart?”
“He’s pretty ruthless, but Caselli’s never noticed him.”
“Hmmm.” Lee cocked her head to one side, her dark hair shifting around her shoulders. “His name doesn’t signify. But we’ve been working our way through his guys. Maybe all he has left is bottom of the barrel.”
“I didn’t interact much with him when I was under, but I hung out with the main players once Caselli considered me made. He
was
one of the ones that came after me and Maldonado when I was trying to bring him in.”
“So Luca here took out Billy Madden,” Pete said.
“I’d bet money on it,” Cole said. “More likely him than Caselli’s nephew.”
Lee sighed. “Makes sense. But how did he get mixed up with Luca and Mickey in the first place? And why?”
“I guess we’ll just hafta find out,” Pete said.
Chapter Twelve
Nikki scowled and slammed the dish in the sink. Then chided herself. What did she care if Pete needed to have a word with Lee?
Alone.
Shaking her head, she sighed and ran the water until it was too hot. The bite and burn on her skin made her suck in a breath. But it was good—like a reality check.
“I don’t care anyway. Let him talk to
her.
”
She grabbed a sponge and started scrubbing the frying pan she’d used to make dinner for the three of them. “It’s not like I want to be alone with him anyway.”
Yeah, like that gets you anywhere, stupid.
Last night, he’d stayed as far away as he could manage while still being in the same room. Like she was diseased. He’d barely said goodnight when they’d parted ways and had left her to deal with trying to sleep in a strange place. The house was nice. Sprawling. But it wasn’t her apartment. It wasn’t
home.
Nikki got the message. Despite the kiss at Health Solutions and the way he looked at her with heat in that green gaze, Pete didn’t want her. He’d constantly moved away when she’d scooted closer. He’d pulled away from her kiss. And when the FBI agent had come into town, it’d got worse, more pronounced.
Maybe Pete was into Lee.
They’d been awfully friendly in the hallway at the PD. Every interaction, all day yesterday—not to mention today—was natural. Laughing, joking, even when talking about the case. Obviously they liked each other.
Her stomach clenched.
No.
But why did she care anyway? It was like she was…jealous…or something.
Nikki groaned. She
did
care. And
that
pissed her off.
She squirted dish soap onto the Teflon and scrubbed harder than necessary on the non-stick surface. Her fingertips smarted.
“Dammit,” she whispered.
“The dishwasher works, you don’t have to do that.”
Nikki yelped and dropped the pan. It clanged in the stainless steel sink, making her ears ring. She turned around, wet hand clutching the fabric of her tee over her heart. Her pulse raced.
Pete stepped forward, running a hair through his thick blond locks, and winced. “Sorry. I always seem to make you jump.”
She tried to convince her heartbeat to slow. Pete’s expression softened and her face warmed. Swallowing back a gulp, Nikki forced words out of her mouth. “It’s okay.”
Their gazes locked and she was swept into him. Intensity and fire were in his eyes. A zing of awareness sparked between them and Nikki moved closer. Felt the heat coming off his body. But then Pete stepped back and squared his shoulders. Looked down at his dark cowboy boots. Shifted on his feet like a teenager caught doing something wrong.
What the hell?
He cleared his throat and finally met her eyes again. “Thanks for making dinner.” His tone was natural. As if the moment they’d just shared didn’t signify.
“What’s wrong with you?” Nikki blurted.
Pete stared, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. He bunched up his broad shoulders and opened his mouth then closed it.
“Well?” She dried her hands with a dish towel then tossed it on the counter behind her. Propped her hands on her hips and stared right back. Dared him to be honest with her.
“What are you talking about?” His voice cracked.
Nikki narrowed her eyes, irritation flaring. “You’re hot and cold. Frankly, it’s driving me crazy.” There. She’d said it. Now what?
Her heart thundered in her ears as she waited for her detective to speak.
He didn’t.
Pete took a step forward. She didn’t move away.
Nikki looked up into his handsome face. His cheeks were ruddy and his eyes carried the same intensity he’d regarded her with only moments before.
A groan tore from his lips then she was against the hard wall of his chest. Her breath was forced out as her breasts flattened into his pecs and he wrapped his arms around her.
Her hip hit the edge of the sink as Pete’s mouth came down on hers, but Nikki didn’t care. He was kissing her again, and it was heaven. She snaked her arms around his neck and pushed closer, opening her mouth as he slanted his for a deeper kiss.
Proof that Pete wanted her—at least physically—pressed into her belly, so she rocked into him and kissed him harder.
In a tangle of lips and limbs, they stumbled into the living room without breaking the seal of their mouths. They landed on the couch.
Pete’s weight on top of her stole her breath all over again, but she didn’t care. She kept kissing him, winding her tongue around his as he cupped her breasts through her favourite printed T-shirt. Her nipples peaked and she arched into him, needing more. The warmth of his big hands seeped through the cotton material, but it wasn’t enough.
Nikki wanted his hands on her bare flesh. Wanted his lips on her. Needed him to suck her into his hot mouth. Everywhere.
She moaned his name when finally he yanked the front of her shirt up and brushed her belly. Wiggling to help him free the rest of it from her jeans, her thigh rubbed the erection straining against his own denim.
Pete groaned. “Darlin’…”
Nikki closed her eyes and sighed. The endearment was a caress that slid across her skin. Making her as hot as his hands.
Her sex throbbed and he hadn’t even touched her there yet.
“Touch me, Pete.” The whisper sounded desperate to her ears, but her detective didn’t make her wait.
Air hit her at all angles as he pushed her shirt up, exposing her bra and her hips when he tugged her zipper down and pushed the denim out of the way. Without preamble, he shoved his hand into her pants, pushing into her panties. But he leant down at the same time, popping one breast out of the frilly pink lace cup. He fondled her hard nipple with nimble fingers before enclosing it with his hot mouth and teasing with his tongue.
She moaned and threw her head back, her body swallowed by multiple sensations. Pleasure rolled over her and she writhed.
His fingertips on her clit had her trembling and begging for more. Nikki lifted up, rocking into the sure movements that circled the sensitive bundle of nerves. Desire flooded her. She was wet and achy. For him.
Pete was relentless, rubbing until her sex pulsed from the inside out. She needed him lower, inside her.
He moved his tongue in tandem with his seeking fingers and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying out.
As if he’d read her mind, he slipped one finger lower, parting her slick folds and dipping inside her. The confines of her jeans didn’t allow for deep thrusts, but the friction was enough to bring her close to the edge.
Nikki called his name and buried her hands in his hair.
He rocked forward, his erection hard and long against her hip through his jeans. It wasn’t enough. She wanted to see him, touch him. Have him inside her.
Pete’s teeth teased her nipple and she screamed. It was too much. She arched into him and gripped his thick shoulders with both hands, nails digging in.
As the orgasm roared over Nikki, the first gunshot shattered the living room window.
“You have
got
to be fucking kidding me,” Luca spat. That fucking idiot had actually taken a shot at the house.
Mickey moved in after he’d shot out the bay window facing the street in soccer-mom-land, firing his forty several more times at the two-storey brick monster of a house. Caselli’s stupid nephew ran right up the porch steps and kicked in the front door.
“Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck!
” Luca slammed the driver side door of the pickup he’d jacked to follow his colleague around. It hadn’t taken him long to find him today, but Mickey didn’t know he was disobeying a direct order from the boss.
For the past few days, Mickey had been leaving on his own, following the redheaded chick, obviously. He’d found her without Luca’s help. Small town or not, maybe he wasn’t so stupid after all.
It’d taken Luca all damn day to find him after he’d gone out to the Circle Bar B.
Mickey wouldn’t let the
kill-the-witnesses
thing drop. He hadn’t been all that concerned that Luca had seen law enforcement on Berto’s property. He’d just insisted they’d kill Berto as his uncle had commanded. In due time. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Mickey had said. Like
he
was running this show. That alone had pissed Luca off enough to stay close-lipped about Caselli’s order to leave the witnesses alone.
“Fuck. That.” Yanking his Beretta out of his waistband, Luca pulled back the slide to chamber a round, cursing in English and Italian.
He was really going to have to kill the boss’s nephew.
There was no other choice. Good damn thing he had the balls to do it. Would even take pleasure in it. Mickey had always been a little shit.
Mickey yelled and several more gunshots went off.
Someone in the house was returning fire. Two windows shattered. Luca ducked and dodged as he jumped onto the porch and flattened himself against the house next to the open door.
A deep male voice shouted orders and Luca whipped into the house. Mickey was facing off with what had to be a cop. The blond guy commanded Caselli’s nephew to lower his weapon, but of course his
friend
was non-compliant.
Luca did a quick visual sweep of the room. Glass everywhere. All four of the windows were either sporting holes or completely gone. The closest exit was the front door. Stairs to the right and a dark hallway to the left. There was probably a back door through the kitchen but he wouldn’t chance the unknown.
The redheaded chick was lying flat on her back behind a large L-shaped brown sofa. Her legs were obscured, as if she’d been running for cover but hadn’t quite made it. The cop was crouched in front of her, gun raised.
Her long red hair was spread out like a curtain on the carpet and her head was to one side, neck at an odd angle. There was a starburst of darker red spreading through the grey fabric of her tee but he couldn’t tell where she was actually hit, side or shoulder. Arm?
Holy shit, her jeans were open, and her shirt was up. Too bad he was too far away to see her tits. Looked like Mickey had interrupted a hell of a good time.
She was too still. That stupid fucker had probably killed her.
“God damn it,” Luca muttered, raising his Beretta.
The cop cursed savagely when he saw Luca, but didn’t move his gun off Mickey. He didn’t need to worry about lil’ ol’ Luca.
“I told you to stay away from this,” Luca barked.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Mickey growled, but didn’t move his gun away from the cop, either. Barely even spared him a glance.
Good. Won’t be hard to fix this.