Kiss her. Get her out of her skimpy sleep clothes—
Knock it off.
Pete pushed off the door and forced himself to return her smile. “Morning.”
“Sleep well?” she asked, her expression becoming shy.
Damn, could she get more endearing? He cleared his throat. “Yes, I did. Towels are in the bathroom, if you want to take a shower. I’m gonna head downstairs. Told Lee I’d make breakfast.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to shower first? It’s your place and all.” She stared, a slight smile on her face.
Was she going to ask him to join her?
Pete swallowed back a gulp. His cock stirred and he fought the urge to whirl away from her. The light of the morning bathing his room from the windows wouldn’t help hide Mr Happy any more than his attire. “No, no, you go ahead.” Words fell from his mouth and he backed towards the door. He needed to get out of his room.
Now.
Thank God he had clothes in his office.
His heel bumped into something soft. Then there was a clatter of something hard to the laminate floor.
He flailed his arms to keep from falling on his ass as his balance went sideways. His right leg shot into the air.
“I’m so sorry!” Nikki scrambled from his bed and grabbed the green Army duffle from behind him, but not before his gaze zoned in on what had fallen. A small round plastic container. Birth control.
She grabbed it and tossed it in the bag, yanking the drawstring tight before meeting his eyes.
Heat crept up his neck, but her expression was normal. She wasn’t the embarrassed one.
Wow. What are you, fifteen?
“Are you all right?” The concern in her voice made him jolt.
Answer her.
He cleared his throat. Again.
Speak, idiot.
“Yes. Fine.”
C’mon, be normal. Crack a joke like you would’ve if someone else had almost fallen on their ass.
Pete just looked at her.
“Pete?” She took a step closer. Her gaze searched his face.
Making himself flash a smile, he forced a nod. “Nothing like losing your balance before the ass crack of dawn.”
Nikki grinned. “There’s the Pete I know.”
Their eyes locked and her hand settled over his wrist. Pete sank into her, shifting on his socked feet. He needed to kiss her.
But when her lovely face tilted up in invitation and she closed her eyes, he put himself in check. “I should go downstairs and let you get ready.”
Those beautiful baby browns flew open and hurt crossed her expression. “Oh,” she whispered.
His gut clenched and he cursed himself to hell and back. That particular look on her face was why he never should have touched her at the safe house. Why he wouldn’t kiss her again. He would only hurt her. Nikki didn’t deserve that. She deserved…better.
“I’ll see you downstairs. You like egg and cheese omelettes?”
She nodded, her eyes misty.
Pete fought the urge to close his eyes. Crying? He’d made her cry.
Could you be a bigger asshole?
He wanted to change his mind, pull her into his arms and wipe that look off her face.
Instead, he fled the room, closing the door soundlessly and keeping up the name-calling symphony in his head.
Chapter Fifteen
Luca froze, his eyes darting around the shitty motel room. Had he actually heard something? Damn, he was paranoid, and he wasn’t even on coke. Grabbing his Beretta, he racked the slide. Aimed at the door and waited. The familiar sound grounded him.
“Fuck.” Wiping the sweat from his brow, he refused to acknowledge the slight shake of his hands. Shit, maybe he
needed
some coke.
Caselli had called. It’d gone badly.
The boss did give a shit about his nephew.
Who fucking knew Caselli could find out about Mickey’s death via the news? One little murder in a small nowhere city… Not national news as far as Luca was concerned.
Unless there was someone already watching.
Caselli’s trust of him had always been tremulous at best—hell, the man really didn’t trust anyone. Maybe he and Mickey had been followed the whole time. Maybe that was the real reason behind Mickey’s stubbornness about the witnesses. Had someone been pulling his strings? Strings Luca had inadvertently severed? The boss’s nephew never had been the brightest crayon in the box.
He’d been told to get his affairs in order.
“No. Fuck no.”
Well, no matter how the info had reached New York, Luca suddenly had a target on his back. One he had to shake. He still had every intention of being important to Caselli. That didn’t include
dead
important.
Luca could change Caselli’s mind about killing him, he really could. If he finished the job he’d been sent to do, his boss had to forgive him for killing Mickey.
He wouldn’t deviate from the plan. Kill Berto and his whore and get back into his employer’s good graces.
If he followed every other Caselli rule, he’d be good to go. Safe to go home.
It’d been two days and no one had come for him.
Spending time lying low had been good. He’d been able to observe everything from under the radar and had only left the motel twice.
When his stomach had finally threatened to digest itself, he’d called a cab in lieu of stealing another car and grabbed some fast food. He’d seen Berto
getting into a giant black pickup in the hospital parking lot. Naturally, Luca had told the cabby to follow.
His old friend hadn’t gone far. The grocery store—didn’t stay long, either—then back to the hospital. Interesting.
Driving back to the ranch and blowing something up there would be a waste if Berto was staying local for his little whore—how sweet.
But even more sweet if Luca could get a twofer.
And he sure as hell would.
Thank God the cab driver hadn’t asked any questions. Guess even in a small city they knew better than that. Maybe it was in the manual or something.
Pacing his room wasn’t going to do any good. He needed out—he needed a plan. He needed to go to the hospital. Definitely would have to boost a car. Cab ride wouldn’t be a safe bet this time. Besides, he needed a getaway ride, too.
Too bad he’d had to lose the Hummer—he’d fucking loved that beast.
A door slammed and Luca jumped. He cursed thin walls as much as his nerves. He’d never been afraid of Caselli before. Scratch that—he’d never been afraid of anyone.
He respected the fuck out of his boss, to boot. Caselli had broken away from his father and built an empire.
Then again, the man had never wanted to kill his ass before.
Gun at his side, he peered out of the peephole of the door to his room.
Nada
. He couldn’t see a damn thing and the old paint against his nose smelt like shit.
What’s the next step?
Luca surveyed the small room. It was so crappy he wouldn’t even pay for sex here. Well, then again, it’d depend on how badly he needed to get laid.
Actually, a piece of sweet tail wasn’t a bad idea at the moment. Antioch might be small, but there had to be a bar around the place. A working girl or two?
Maybe he wouldn’t have to pay for pussy. He wasn’t a bad-looking guy. After running his hand through his dark hair, he straightened his navy dress shirt. Women liked him.
He strode over to his black duffle and dug inside until he found some cologne, sprayed some on his neck and yanked his collar.
The mirror was cracked, but he could see enough to admire his reflection. “You look damn good, Luca.”
If he could just stop talking to himself, maybe he’d get somewhere. Luca laughed, shaking his head. Caselli was after him and he’d just convinced himself to find some pussy instead of taking care of the problem. Maybe the Texas heat had gone to his head.
“Kill Berto and his whore.
Then
find a piece of ass.” Nodding, he was satisfied with his compromise.
He grabbed the small nine-millimetre SIG he kept as a backup gun and strapped the ankle holster on. He donned a black blazer and secured his forty in the back of his waistband. Looking in the mirror one last time, Luca smiled.
The black bag and semi-formal outfit could have him passing for a pharmaceutical rep. Handy.
Now he just had to lift a ride to the hospital.
* * * *
Nikki’s hand shook even before she answered her phone.
Something’s wrong.
“Hello?”
“Nikki Harper, please.” The familiar male voice was crisp, efficient.
“This is she.”
“Nikki, Dr Bishop.”
Shit.
She’d recognised his voice, but a part of her hadn’t wanted to admit it. Never good when the doctor himself made the call. “Y-y-yes?”
“This morning your grandmother’s vitals weren’t looking so good. So I had her transferred to the hospital for some tests.”
“And you’re just telling me now?” She clutched the cell to her ear so hard her hand smarted. The phone creaked.
It was almost seven. The whole day she’d been thinking about Gram, assuming she was safe at Health Solutions with two of APD’s finest. Surely someone had called Pete if they’d had to move with her. Unless he just hadn’t told her. Nikki’s heart dropped to her stomach. What if the officers hadn’t gone to the hospital with her grandmother?
“You know your gram. She didn’t want to bother you unless there was something to worry about.” Dr Bishop’s voice gentled.
“So, there’s something to worry about?”
“She’ll be fine, but her heart’s out of rhythm. I’m keeping her overnight for observation before releasing her back to the rehab centre. Consulting with Dr Garrett, the best cardiologist I know.”
Nikki squared her shoulders. “Heart problems?” That was new.
“Perhaps it’s just the excitement of the past week, but she needs to rest.”
“Okay. Can I see her?”
“I don’t see a problem with that, but take it easy. Nothing exciting.”
Like bad news
. As far as Nikki knew, Gram didn’t know—and wouldn’t be told—about the shooting at the safe house. Not now, for damn sure. “Thank you, Dr Bishop. Call me if there’s anything else. Even something little, please?”
“I will.”
Nikki trembled as she ended the call and pocketed her cell.
How much more can I take?
Gram had to be okay.
She dumped the chicken she’d been seasoning for dinner into a container. After the lid gave a snap, she shoved it into Pete’s fridge and hipped the door shut. Swallowed back some tears.
Sauntering into the living room of what had turned into her prison for the past two days, she steeled herself for a fight. He would say no. Probably wouldn’t even hear her out. But it wasn’t going to fly. Not this time.
Nikki had no clue if she was coming or going with her detective. On top of the stress of worrying Caselli’s men would appear guns blazing at any moment, Pete had pulled completely away from her.
After sleeping in his arms and getting the best night’s rest she’d had since before all this crap had happened, he’d not slept with her again, despite the fact Lee had gone back to her hotel.
He hadn’t kissed her. Barely touched her at all. If they accidentally brushed shoulders or hands, he’d move away as if she was made of fire. Would hardly make eye contact.
What the hell had she done?
Hot, cold, hot, cold.
She’d failed at her attempts to understand him, even read him. Sure as heck couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
It…hurt. Physically. Nikki’s chest ached. It was hard to breathe.
Stop thinking about it. Focus on Gram.
She’d bawled the night before. Tears had soaked the pillow that still carried Pete’s clean, woodsy sent. That made it even worse. He hadn’t been there. Somehow it’d made her feel even emptier.
But had she really been crying over the detective? Or had she finally broken under the stress of her world being tossed upside down? Was it even normal to feel as if he’d rejected her?
Nikki wouldn’t admit she was losing it, and she sure as hell wouldn’t confess to her tears being Pete-related.
Grow up, Nikki Harper. This, too, will pass.
Gram’s familiar phrase came with the memory of her voice.
She just needed to forget about him. Or at least stop dwelling on what had happened between them.
Yeah, right.
She still wanted him.
The way he kissed, the way he’d made her feel when they’d been on the couch in the safe house—no man had ever made her blood boil like that.
An orgasm in a few minutes? It’d never happened for her like that. Ever. Sex had always been pleasant, something she’d enjoyed. But Nikki had never even come close to feeling the way Pete had made her feel. And that was just foreplay.
God knows, had Caselli’s men not burst in, she would have been naked in his arms in seconds. Demanding, begging him to come inside her.
Squirming, she squeezed her thighs together. Now was a bad time for those memories. Her desire for him could do nothing but torture her.
“My grandmother’s in the hospital.”
Lee and Pete looked up collectively from the laptop perched on the ottoman between them. They sat side by side, heads and bodies close together—too close. Nikki swallowed back a scowl and stepped towards them.
Her detective was on his feet in seconds, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Nikki—”
“Oh, my God. You knew. You
knew
and you didn’t tell me?” Nikki shoved his hands off her. “How could you not tell me?”
Pete winced and glanced at Lee, but the FBI agent shook her head. Like she was saying the detective was on his own. Good.
“I did know.” The regret in his expression should have made her feel a little better, but it didn’t.
“How could you keep that from me?” Nikki meant to prop her hands on her hips, but ended up wrapping her arms around her middle. Hurt assaulted her. Was it over Pete or Gram?
“Crowley called me this morning. He and Walton went over there. They’re both with her. She’s okay.”
“This
morning
? It’s not okay. Gram’s been alone in the hospital all day. Without…me.”
Do not cry.
She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling.
“Darlin’—”
“No.” She made a cutting gesture. “You do not get to lie to me and call me that.”