Chapter Eight
Molly scooped up the last bit of barbecue sauce with a fry and sighed. She couldn't feel better about life if she tried. Belly full of comforting, greasy food and a pleasant tingle between her legs had her feeling more satisfied than she had in ages.
The hungry look in Rafael's eyes as he watched her eat didn't hurt, either.
The logical part of her said she should be mortified at what she'd done with a man she hardly knew. Molly couldn't bring herself to feel anything other than amazing. Maybe it was the brush with danger or maybe it was Rafael, but she felt utterly free and safe with him. And the things he'd done to her body were more incredible than anything she'd experienced before. There hadn't been many notches on her bedpost and none of them had been as skilled—as focused on her pleasure—as Rafael.
She still couldn't quite believe it had actually happened and wasn't just the hottest sex dream of her life.
Cheeks flushing at the memory, she glanced between Connor and Marc, embarrassed to be so turned on with another man and her brother at the table. Connor, bear of a man that he was, was too wrapped up with his second double cheeseburger to notice her. Marc's face was impossible to read.
Rafael extended the rest of his fries toward her and cocked an eyebrow at her. "Satisfied?"
Oh, two could play at that game, buddy.
Molly drew the longest fry from the carton. She rested the fry against her lower lip, mouth parted and just the tip of her tongue resting on it. Rafael was a man transfixed, frozen in place and eyes locked on her lips. Pushing the fry slowly into her mouth, Molly ran her tongue along the side of it and sighed ever so softly. When the fry was in her mouth, she made sure to lick her fingertips and smirked at Rafael.
"Mmm. Salty."
Rafael closed his eyes and her brother choked on his soda.
"How did you come to own a dance studio downtown?" Connor asked, looking at them all with eyebrows raised, oblivious to the awkwardness in the room.
Molly cleared her throat and suppressed a smile. "It's kind of a bittersweet, actually. I started dancing at Donnell's studio when I was a teenager. He took me in when—"
She paused and glanced at Marc and for once he didn't look away. "Well, when things got tough. He taught me to dance and it was like I discovered my purpose in life, you know?
"Eventually he let me start teaching the kids. When he passed...his lawyer called me a few weeks later. Turned out Donnell trusted me with his studio and left it to me in his will. I was shocked. I could teach lessons all week, but I didn't know anything about operating the studio."
And now it might not matter one way or the other. Her poor accounting skills weren't the biggest threat to her future anymore. Marc leaving her for the mafia had been the reason she'd run away and found the studio in the first place. Would the Family be the reason she lost it, too?
Except Marc wasn't just with the mafia, he was also federal. Which part of his job could she trust to keep her safe? Which side would ruin all she'd worked so hard for?
Rafael's warm hand settled over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. Their eyes met and his smile warmed her like the sun. She couldn't help smiling back. Whatever might be in store for her, Rafael would keep her safe.
"Did Donnell have any family?" he asked, running his thumb over the back of her hand.
She shook her head. "None that he ever mentioned. There were a bunch of old photos in his office upstairs, but no one I recognized. And no one came forward after he died."
Though now that she thought about it, something about the photos struck a memory. They'd all been packed in a box and shoved into the basement. Not much help they could do her now. Still, the idea tickled the back of her mind.
"This is sort of a morbid question," Connor said, gathering the trash from their meals. "Was there anything suspicious about Donnell's death?"
"Not that I'd heard of. He was an old man and his heart just gave out."
Connor took the trash into the kitchen and Marc stepped away from the table, tapping on his phone.
"You know," Rafael pulled Molly to her feet, tugging her toward an open bit of floor. "I've always wanted to learn to dance."
A grin spread over her face. "You're kidding."
"Why would I be kidding?" He wrapped an arm around her waist, raising their clasped hands to the level of her shoulder. "I bet I'm pretty good at it."
"Think you're light on your feet, do you?"
Rafael pulled her close and though he moved with incredible grace, his form was all wrong. Molly grinned. There was an easy way to fix that. She moved her arm as though to rest it on his hip and goosed him instead.
"Ay!" Rafael jumped, spine going straight.
"There you go. Keep your posture up. And as much as I love your hand on my ass, you need to move that hand up to my shoulder blade. That's it." Molly gripped his elbow, pulling it a little higher and rested her hand on his bicep.
Their height difference made it a little awkward and Molly wished she had her nice heels on. And a dress, rather than sweats and a t-shirt. But Rafael was a quick study and soon they were running through a simple salsa dance with only the beat of their hearts to keep the rhythm.
"I think I'm getting the hang of it," Rafael said, watching his feet as he moved. A dark lock of hair fell across his forehead, furrowed in concentration.
The sight of him focusing so hard on what she held most precious filled her heart with love. Which brought her up so short she nearly tripped over his feet. Love? No. That couldn't be possible. It was way too soon to feel anything that serious.
Except that every time he smiled at her it melted her heart. And when he looked at her with those sinner's eyes it melted her panties. Love? It was too soon to commit to such an important emotion. Though she could admit there was certainly room for love to grow.
And she loved the way he looked at her. Loved how he made her laugh, even while she was in hiding. Loved that he brought out her sensuality and took her to levels of ecstasy she didn't know were possible. And she was so excited to explore where they could go together.
"Who the hell is Brendon Coogan?" Marc's voice snapped her out of the moment and she turned to face his glower.
"Why the hell would I know?" Molly snapped back, annoyed that he'd interrupted her perfect moment with Rafael. "Aren't you the detective?"
His glower deepened. "He's called you about a dozen times in the last five weeks."
Rafael's hand tightened at her waist as she stiffened. "How do you know who's been calling me?"
"I just got the report from Crawford." Marc scrolled through something on his phone. "You took the first few calls then stopped answering. Do you have any idea how dangerous this guy is?"
He'd pulled her phone records. Which was now part of a federal investigation. Along with the number of times she'd ordered pizza, on display for anyone to see. Anger flooded through her, drowning out embarrassment. Out of anyone, Marc should realize what privacy meant to a Torelli.
"You pulled my phone records?" Molly said, pleased she managed to keep her voice steady.
Marc swiped a hand through the air like he was shoving away her comment. "Coogan is a felon in the worst way. Armed robbery. Assault. Attempted murder. Hell, he's got ties with the Irish mob. I want to know why he's been calling my baby sister. Tell me you don't have anything to do with this guy."
"You could've asked." Tears blurred her vision and she dug her nails into her palms to try and stop them. Angry tears were still tears, and she hadn't cried in front of anyone since Donnell took her in.
"What?"
"About the phone calls. You could've asked, 'Hey, Molly, get any weird phone calls lately?' You didn't need to make my personal business part of a federal investigation."
His eyes flickered closed briefly and he took a deep breath. "Damn it, Molly. There's a hit out on you. And then I find out you're somehow involved with Brendon Coogan. Which is just the stupidest thing you've ever—"
"Watch it," Rafael growled.
Connor stepped around the kitchen island keeping his hands resting at his sides. She'd grown up around enough mafia wiseguys to know when a fight was about to break out. Molly's heart thudded painfully in her chest and her anger melted. Her brother may be an idiot about families, but she still loved him. And Rafael...she was still figuring out what they were. There may not be a word for the stage of their relationship, but she didn't want him fighting with Marc.
"Back off, man," Marc said, lips pulling back in a snarl. "This is between Molly and me. Whatever mess she's gotten herself into has nothing to do with you."
"You talk to her that way again and I guarantee you it's about me."
Marc bristled. "We're family. You feed her a line about being her mate to get her out of her dress and think that makes you somebody?"
Molly flinched as if she'd been slapped. The tension in the room skyrocketed. Rafael had gone still, and she dug her fingers into his bicep. It felt like corded steel in her grasp.
"That was way out of line, Marcie," she whispered, voice cold.
Marc stared at the carpet, fists clenched at his sides.
"I got the first call a few weeks ago. But I guess you already know that. He didn't say who he was, only that he wanted to buy the studio. Something about his voice sounded off, though. A little unhinged. Desperate. I told him I wasn't selling and he hung up.
"The next day he called again, but this time he got angry when I told him no. Ranted about how the studio should've been his. So I hung up on him and stopped answering his calls. I hadn't heard anything in over a week and sort of forgot about him. I thought it was some sort of prank or something. It didn't even occur to me that the hit might be related to some random phone calls."
She turned toward Connor and managed a tense smile. "I can't remember if I said it or not, but thank you for letting me use this house."
Poor Connor looked so uncomfortable. He didn't deserve to get dragged into Family drama. Molly stepped forward and Rafael moved with her without her urging. It was nice to know he'd stay by her side. When she reached Marc she stopped at his side and stared up at him, not caring that the tears had started to fall.
"My dress comes off when I decide. Not because of anything anyone says to me. Besides, you walked out when I was eleven. You don't got the right to comment, one way or the other."
"Molly," he said, and she could hear the regret in his voice.
"No." She held up a hand and stepped away from him. "We're done talking for now. And if the hitman does a good job tonight you can think about how the last thing you said to me was that I was stupid and easy."
"Jesus," Marc hissed but she and Rafael were already at the bedroom door. "Molly!"
"Nope," she called back, throwing the door open and shoving Rafael inside. "I'm going to be too busy getting my brains fucked out to fight with you. Try again tomorrow."
She slammed the door shut behind her and locked it. Rafael stood in the center of the room, breathing heavily and looking confused. Poor guy. He didn't deserve to get dragged into this drama, either.
Her heart sank. How could he possibly want to get involved with her after witnessing that mess? It was sweet of him to stand up to her brother, though. And he'd danced barefoot with her in a safe house. Those would be good memories.
Molly stepped past him and sank down onto the floor next to the bed. Only she could manage to let a mafia hit both start and ruin what could've been an amazing relationship. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead against them, hiding from what was coming next.
She heard a soft rustle of fabric as Rafael crouched next to her and the weight of his hand fell on her shoulder. "Molly..."
Here it comes, she thought, squeezing her legs closer. Childish behavior, she knew, but she didn't care.
"I don't think it's a good idea for me to fuck your brains out. At least not tonight. Do you have plans in the morning?"
Molly laughed, her head snapping up in surprise to see a smile on his face. He winked at her.
"Maybe before breakfast?"
Molly sighed and smiled, resting her forehead against his. Rafael wasn't mad. And better yet, he wasn't running. Hope fluttered in her chest and, for once, she didn't try to stop it.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Anytime, beautiful."
They sat in silence for a long moment and slowly the anger and pain of the fight with her brother faded.
"What was that thing he said about being my mate?" She asked as Rafael's eyes went wide. "Sounded kind of weird. Wild. Does it have anything to do with how my brother can turn into a wolf?"
It was like a fire lit behind Rafael's eyes. Adorably, indecision and joy seemed to war within him. Finally, he settled on a grin, sitting down in front of her so that his knees rested on either side of her legs.
"I don't think you're supposed to know about that."
Molly smiled, heart leaping to her throat. She was right! "Dad and Marc thought they could keep a secret from an eleven year old girl. I think they both underestimate women."
Rafael snorted. "Idiots."
"Yeah." She rested her hands on his calves. So many questions raced around her mind, she didn't know where to start.
"You've known since you were a kid?" Rafael rested his hands on top of hers, running up and down the length of her arms. He couldn't keep from touching her any more than she could keep her hands off him.
Molly nodded. "Marc didn't have the best control when he first started transforming."
"Shifting," Rafael said. "We call it shifting."
"We?" She blinked. "Wait, are you a wolf, too?"
Rafael grimaced. "Not a wolf, no. How could you even think I'm a mangy, flea-ridden wolf?"
Molly bit her lip, leaning toward him. "So, there are other types of shifting animal people?"
"We just call ourselves shifters. Less of a mouthful that way." He winked at her. "Finish telling me how you know about your brother. Then I'll answer any questions you like."
"One night, I heard him and dad fighting and snuck downstairs to watch. I think they were arguing about whatever school dad wanted to ship him off to. They told me it was military school, but that always sounded like crap. Dad wouldn't send him to boot camp, not with his record." With a start, Molly realized he might know her family's history. "You know what dad used to do, yeah?"
"About the mafia?"
Her cheeks went pink and she nodded.
Rafael shrugged. "Honey, shifters aren't always able to operate inside the law. Connor and your brother are both lucky in that regard. Maybe your dad didn't always do the best thing, but it seems to me like he tried to keep you out of that life. That's something, at least, right? Whatever choices he made for himself don't have anything to do with you."
Molly took a deep breath and leaned into him, pressing her lips to his. He caught the unexpected kiss with surprise and smiled against her mouth. She didn't think she'd ever get tired of the firm feel of him, of his strength. She buried her fingers in his hair and took a shaky breath. Sharing this part of herself with him, knowing that he would share secrets with her brought them so much closer together. Magic was happening in this moment.
"He and Dad were going at each other hard," she went on, frowning at the memory. "Out of nowhere, Marcie disappeared and there was a snarling wolf instead. Dad tried to talk him down, but Marcie was too far gone in anger. So, Dad turns into a wolf, too, and they kept on at the fight. It was scary.
"Eventually, Marcie stopped fighting. When he turned back to human, all naked and bloody, I ran back to my room. That was the last I saw of Marcie for years. And when he did show back up, he'd changed. Gotten hard and acted like a lot of the wiseguys."
Rafael swept the hair from her face, trailing his hand down her neck. "You never said anything?"
Molly shrugged. "They never talked about it with me, so I kept my mouth shut. For a long time, I was scared it would happen to me, too. But I turned out to be a plain old human."
Rafael tilted her head toward him, kissed her gently at first, though his tongue ran along her lips until she opened her mouth to him. He stroked her mouth with his tongue, reminding her of the delicious and wicked things he'd done to her earlier. By the time he broke the kiss, Molly was breathing heavily and hyper-aware of his presence.
"There is nothing plain about you, Molly Torelli." His husky voice did amazing things to her.
She bit her lip, torn between wanting to pull him on top of her or ask more questions. Curiosity won out. "Yeah, but it's not like I'm a shifter. Like you?"
Rafael hesitated only a moment before nodding. "It's hereditary. My whole family is. We—I mean shifters are more common than you might think. We keep a low profile, for obvious reasons. Families usually stay together, living in a pack. Wolves especially. That's why it's not that surprising that your dad has ties to organized crime. It's a tight family, both for the shifters and the mafia."
"What kind of animal are you?"
"Panther."
Of course he was. Dark, graceful, dangerous—but not obviously so. He must be a beautiful animal.
Molly licked her lips and took a deep breath. "Can I see? Will you shift for me?"