This is my life!
he’d screamed at Benjamin, who’d shrunk away from the cage with the force of his words. The boy had tried to protect Grant, and the boy had failed.
Fucking informant
. Enzo clutched his scalp as he willed the image of the boy’s frightened eyes out of his mind.
Just let me sleep.
But the thoughts kept coming—the conversation about Grant’s betrayal playing in an endless loop.
Get out of my head, Grant.
But tonight there was no peace. Actually, there’d been a lot of nights without peace…
“This is my
life!”
Enzo had stared down his brother. “How could you let this happen? How could you let that son of a bitch slip through our fingers?”
Angelo had swallowed. “Fanocelli beat us, Enz.” He clutched his glass tighter. “He made it to the feds before we could get to him.”
“Fucking informant.” Bile rose in his throat, and he knocked back a swig of whiskey to push it down. The whiskey didn’t even burn at this point, and it still didn’t make him feel any better. The FBI had Fanocelli, witness to bad things he’d done. No
way
that fat fuck would take him down.
A noise by the stairs drew his attention.
Angelo stood and flipped the hallway light. “Carlo! You should be in bed.”
“But I’m not
tired
.” The nine-year-old’s whine grated on Enzo’s last nerve. His hand moved to his belt buckle.
“Anna Maria!” Angelo boomed. His wife materialized in seconds. “Take him to bed.”
Without a word, she ushered the boy upstairs.
As Angelo slumped back down on the sofa, Enzo’s jaw clenched, listening to his nephew’s fading complaints from above. He would never tolerate that bullshit. “You know what Dad would’ve done if he’d found us out of bed in the middle of the night?”
Angelo’s eyes held a hint of sadness before he looked away.
They both knew Angelo had raised a sniveling pansy, but for some reason he refused to hit Carlo. His brother’s weakness disgusted him.
Thirty minutes later, Enzo entered his own home, the very home Fanocelli’s eventual testimony threatened to take away. He cursed as he stumbled in the hallway and looked down to find a fucking toy on the floor. He scooped up the red action figure and continued into the family room, where Karita had fallen asleep on the sofa. The bitch hadn’t even waited up for him.
Soft, blond waves framed her face, and her steady breaths made him aware of his own fatigue.
Tired. So tired of running the damn family
. He swayed a bit on his feet before he shook his head to snap out of it. “Thanks for waiting up for me.”
Her eyes flew open, and she sat up, searching his face for a moment before noticing the toy in his hand.
“I almost broke my fucking neck on this!” He shook the action figure for emphasis.
Karita shrank back into the cushion. “Sorry, baby.”
She’s so pathetic
.
“Did you, um, have a nice time at Angelo’s?” Her voice wavered.
“A
nice
time? I don’t think that’s what you’d call it. I try to keep the family alive, and you try to kill me when I walk in the door.” He waved the toy in front of her face. “Is that what you’re doing with this? Trying to kill me?”
Her eyes widened. “No! I didn’t see it—”
The toy whipping across her face shut her up. She lurched to the side as she cradled her cheek and wailed.
“You’ll wake up the boys.
Silenzio
.”
She quieted immediately.
He stormed off to the stairs and ignored her whimpered plea to leave the boys alone. Once he yanked open their bedroom door, he saw Logan splayed out on his bed, mouth open, drooling in his sleep. He swore the boy had grown an inch since he last saw him. As he watched his son’s even breaths, he felt his anger fade into fatigue. Logan would be a strong leader one day.
He was about to leave the bedroom when he heard a small gasp. He turned to see his younger son huddled against his headboard, eyes shining in the darkness. Grant had always been a light sleeper.
As he stepped closer, he noticed a red action figure clutched in Grant’s hand: a companion to the one he’d found downstairs. “Clean up your fucking toys!” he hissed.
Grant blinked like crazy, and the sound of his rapid breathing filled the room.
“It’s
your
fault I had to hit your mother with this.”
Tears fell from those big eyes as the boy retreated farther from him.
When Enzo raised his hand, Grant’s arms covered his head, and he curled into a ball on his pillow. He shook with fear.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Don’t hurt me, Daddy.”…
Don’t hurt me, Daddy
. Enzo shifted in the prison bed and covered his ears. Mullens was out there somewhere, ready to exact revenge…ready to hurt his son.
What had he done?
***
Grant clutched his cell phone as he paced Kirsten’s apartment. “So everything’s in place for tonight, then?”
“Looks like it,” Agent Bounter replied. “The only unknown is how many men Vladimir will bring on his team and how many will be left to track down after we arrest the bastards.”
Grant mentally rehearsed the planned robbery of the hotel’s safe, a robbery in which he’d be the point man, sneaking Vladimir and his men into security strongholds—where Bounter and
his
men would be waiting.
“There’re still a thousand things that could go wrong with this op,” Bounter added, “which is what makes it so fun.”
Garnt shook his head but found himself smiling. “You’re a sick man, sir.”
“Aw, c’mon, that’s why you like me. I’m still invited to the wedding, right?”
“If I’m alive by then.”
“
Grant
.” Bounter’s sharp tone straightened his shoulders. “Man up. Look what happened last time: you were on your way back to prison—straight into the lion’s den—when your family screwed it all up. But instead of buckling under the pressure, you came up with a new strategy on the fly. Your improvisation worked even better than the initial plan.”
He sighed. It wasn’t just his improvisation that had made that night work. There’d been a lot of luck involved too. And he wasn’t sure if luck was his lady tonight.
“But this time everything will go according to schedule,” Bounter promised. “We’ve been investigating the Russians for months, and I’m sick of them weaseling out of consequences. I’m sick of them dealing drugs to kids.”
“That’s why I need to get more details about the submarine tonight.”
“That’d help,” Bounter agreed. “But even if they’re tight-lipped, once we separate Andrei from his boss, we’ll get him talking.”
Grant frowned.
I’m not so sure about that.
He heard a key in the front door. “I better go, sir.”
“It’ll be fine. Cool and steady, Frank Sinatra.”
“
Cool and steady
,” he sang in a jazzy beat. As he ended the call, he looked up to see Sophie coming in. “Hey, babe.”
Her face lit up. “What a nice surprise!” She let him take her briefcase and handbag before he peeled her knee-length khaki raincoat off her shoulders.
“It’s a good surprise for me too,” he said, draping the coat over his arm and leaning in to kiss the nape of her neck. “I had to call Agent Bounter, but I didn’t know I’d run into you.”
“I need to change clothes before Ben’s meet.”
His face fell. “Oh…I wish I could go with you.”
She headed toward Kirsten’s bedroom and spoke over her shoulder. “Me too. I’m late, as usual—a student needed to chat. Come talk to me while I change?”
“As if you have to ask.” He trotted after her and stood in the doorway as she plopped down on the bed. When she leaned down to unzip her high-heeled boot, he zoomed over. “Please allow me.”
Sophie arched one eyebrow but leaned back and rested her weight on her elbows.
He took his time unzipping the boot, inhaling the scent of earthy leather mixing with her soft perfume and admiring the length of her calf. Once both boots were off, he kneeled to cup one narrow foot in his hands. He took his time massaging the fine bones.
“Ohhh,” she murmured. Grant looked up to see her eyes closed and a faint smile on her face. “I can’t wait till we live together again…then you can do this every night.”
He chuckled.
“Remember when you dressed me at the hospital?” He noticed a glint of copper in her eyes as she shimmied out of her stockings. “That was
so
erotic.”
He pressed his lips to the inside of her knee. “
Un
dressing can be erotic too.” His mouth crept under her chocolate-brown skirt to deliver another kiss, and he heard her inhale as his lips swept upward toward the Promised Land.
“Grant,” she moaned. “I can’t.” She laughed at his pout. “Ben, remember? I have to get to his meet.”
“Oh, right. Sorry…those legs are kind of distracting.” He stood and pulled her off the bed. She unzipped her skirt and let it slide off. “I’m worried about Ben. Will you talk to him? Find out what got into him yesterday?”
“Of course.” Her head disappeared as she lifted her silk blouse over her head, and he took in the soft curves of her lace bra. She turned to a rolling clothes rack and sorted through some shirts.
“Sorry you have to make do with this makeshift closet.”
“Maybe it’d help if I had less clothes.” She slipped a royal blue polo off the hanger, and when she turned he read Ben’s school name embroidered over her left breast. “Now I need some pants…or maybe shorts.” She leaned over to slide open the bottom drawer.
“Won’t you be cold?” he asked her butt, which waved in the air not too far away.
She stood again to pull on some black yoga pants. “Natatoriums are always hot,” she explained. “That’s why I came home to change.” Once she’d completed her ensemble with socks and running shoes, she asked, “What kind of tone should I take with Ben? Stern? Concerned?”
“I have no idea.” He followed her to the kitchen, where he’d draped her raincoat. He held it out again and helped her slide into it as a knot of worry tightened in his stomach. “I still haven’t talked to him since you told me about him selling drugs.” He brushed a stray blond hair off her shoulder. “And now he’s suspended for the meet? I thought he was really starting to turn his life around.”
“He
is
turning his life around. But we all make mistakes.”
“
What?”
He spun her around to face him and clasped her hands in his. “
We
never make mistakes.”
She gave him a jaunty smile. “Said the man who was handcuffed multiple times last year.”
Grant groaned. “How could you get me all riled up mentioning handcuffs, then walk out on me? That’s just cruel.”
She freed her hands and snaked a finger up to his chin. “Your hot-and-bothered status is your fault.
I’m
not the one who’s constantly unavailable, McFederalAgent.”
“That will change soon.”
“Really?”
“If all goes well…tonight it will end.”
She stared at him for a second, then started to unbuckle the belt she’d just buckled on her coat. “You’ll be in danger. I’m staying.”
“Sophie…” He stilled her hands. “Go. Ben needs you. I have the entire Chicago FBI division watching me tonight, but Ben only has you.”
She seemed to hover in a moment of indecision.
“Please,” he urged. “It’ll help me focus tonight if I know you’re taking care of Ben.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “Oh, Bonnie.” He wrapped her in a hug. “I’m sorry to do this to you. I shouldn’t have told you anything.”
“No. I want to know.” She sniffed. “Text me when you get in tonight. I don’t care how late it is.”
He wasn’t sure how long it would take to get out of handcuffs following his faux arrest at the hotel, but he nodded anyway. “As soon as I can.” Cradling her head, he leaned down to kiss her. Her lips were soft as always, but he could feel tension in her mouth. When she started to pull away, he shook his head and nudged them back together. He continued kissing her until she relaxed in his arms. “It’ll be okay, Bonnie.”
“I just want you done with those Russians. They give me the creeps.” She paused. “But…is it weird your family scares me even more than the Russians do?”
“Let’s hope the Russians end up like my family—all in prison.”
Or dead
, he silently finished. “Go ahead. I’ll wait a couple of minutes after you’ve gone.”
“Okay. I’ll hug Ben for you.” She gave him a peck on the cheek as she left.