Chapter 15
Hours later, Avery entered the dilapidated hourly hotel rental she’d paid cash for until nine tonight, and slammed the door. The room was tiny, walls thin, the location inconvenient, but it wasn’t associated with the syndicate. It was someplace to hide while she waited for Dante’s call. She was freaking out, torturing herself about Vincent. She shouldn’t have ditched him like that. The restaurant wasn’t safe…and she missed him. Surprise, surprise, he’d become her security blanket. Her gorgeous, muscular, tactically proficient, killing machine sort of security blanket. Just being around him made her feel invincible, and as happy as she’d ever been. Now, she was alone, Millie’s only hope, feeling inadequate to the task.
Millie. Avery told herself that her sister was a tough little girl. She’d had to be, so Avery made sure of it, but she was still a little girl.
“Shit, shit, shit.” She covered her face, squeezing her eyes shut.
She was afraid—of Dante, of what he might do to Millie—but keeping Vincent would have been selfish, and foolish. Fucking Pete confirmed that. Her dragging Vincent into the syndicate’s focus was reprehensible. She’d warned Vincent, but he didn’t care. Well, she cared. He deserved better than to have to worry about looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life.
Avery paced the tiny room, not wanting to touch anything, thinking about those that had been there before her, renting hourly. And she worried. Her chest was tight with it as she paced and paced, until it was hard to think, and sobs hitched her breath.
It wasn’t as if she’d had a choice in the restaurant’s parking lot. She’d had to escape. Once Vincent reported she’d “bait and switched” the Feds, he’d be the hammer and Avery the nail. Not to mention, he’d be forced to choose between her and the Feds. No surprise where his loyalty would land. So, she ran…and felt guilty as sin about it. Dante always said she didn’t play well with others. Now it was Vincent’s turn to learn that hard truth.
Flopping on the bed, sunlit dust motes kicked up around her. She clutched the money bag, thinking of her tomorrows. If she survived her encounter with Dante, this money would seed her and Millie’s future, get them where they needed to go, and set them up until Avery could find a new school for Millie and a new job. Best case scenario. Worse? She wouldn’t survive the day, because as much as Avery knew Dante inside and out, he knew Avery. He had set Millie up as an irresistible bait, and was springing his trap. Dante knew Avery would do anything to get her back. She’d be anything, sacrifice anything, to save her sister. All that was left to do was reel Avery in. She was helpless to resist.
Avery wiped a tear, hating her weakness.
Lifting both hands, she studied her six titanium rings. Dull with wear, she could still see their faint inscribed initials. Three years ago, after “graduating” from her “classes” with Dante’s contract killers, her ex brought her into a room and told her who’d killed her family five years before.
The six men who’d trained her.
At the time, she couldn’t believe it. Of course, now, she knew it was predictable Dante behavior, cruelty for cruelty’s sake. He had Coppola men lead these six killers into the training room, where she’d spent the last five years learning how to fight, then those men left, leaving her, Dante, and the six killers behind. One by one, they’d confessed their roles in the Toner Family Massacre as Avery listened, mute with shock. Dante saw these confessions as a graduation present, of sorts, to finally tell Avery who’d killed her family. There were no guilty consciences in that room.
Then Dante gave her a choice: fight them, one on one to the death, and avenge her family, or give up her right for vengeance forever. He was basically telling her to shut up about her family’s deaths, or face the consequences. That’s when she’d realized two things: Dante had known who’d killed her family all along, and he was simply tired of keeping his secret. Most importantly, there wasn’t one person in that room that thought she’d fight them.
It could have been the shock of finally discovering who’d killed her family, or it could have been the rage she’d felt to realize the men who’d beaten her for five years under the guise of “training” were the men who’d killed all that she’d held dear. Whatever had cranked her into action, Avery took Dante up on his offer. Shocked the shit out of everyone. Some were happy, others nervous.
They fought with her weapon of choice, a knife, while Dante’s gun aimed at the men, keeping the fights one on one. She didn’t kill them. She dominated them, her rage and skill used in the service of justice. And when they lay on the floor, helpless, she humiliated them by removing their rings and placing it on her fingers. Six rings. And when the sixth fight was won, the sixth ring donned, Dante execute them in his signature way, one shot to the skull.
She blamed trauma, exhaustion, her injuries for her lack of empathy, but when the last bullet pierced the last killer’s skull, Avery didn’t feel a thing. In hindsight, she supposed she should have predicted her ex-husband’s savagery. These men were humiliated, so Dante had no use for them anymore, nor could he trust them again. He’d tasked his contract killers to train her, and they’d completed their mission. They created the monster that ended them.
And so began the legend of The Stinger. Someone had to take the blame for these deaths.
When Avery escaped Dante, unwilling to remain married to a monster, she became a loose end. The truth could cause him trouble within the syndicate, and yeah, he could call her a liar, but the rings… They were her proof that she’d been there, saw what happened, and he couldn’t dispute them.
Dante had to die. It was him or her. Dante knew it. Avery knew it.
But Avery didn’t want to kill Dante. She didn’t want to kill anyone. Scooching down the headboard until she rested her head on the pillow, she covered her face, fighting tears. What was she going to do?
The hotel room’s lock clicked.
Avery rolled off the bed, Glock in hand, just as the door flew opened. She greeted her unwelcome visitor on the floor, gun aimed at his center mass.
Vincent.
He held up a key card. Avery didn’t move beyond blinking, and then she was breathing again. Gun still trained on him, she attempted to think, to reason why or how he was here. Vincent kept his expression blank, giving no indication of his thoughts, and then he stepped away from the door and allowed it to close behind him. The lock clicked into place, and the sound broke through her shock.
“Don’t move,” she said.
“I convinced the guy out front to give me your room key.” He arched a brow. “Cost me a hundred-dollar bill. If I was you, I’d complain to management.”
“He is management.” She kept the gun aimed at him, not sure what he wanted from her, other than bringing her into custody, which she could not allow. Her choices were shoot him, tie him up, or hear what he had to say. No matter her choice, she was still lying on a gross floor. Rug burned and sore, she stood, doing her best to avoid touching the carpet more than necessary. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” Her dive had irritated the bruise on her knee.
“I knew you’d miss me.” He wasn’t smiling, or even smirking. He seemed cautious, still holding the key card in the air. His other hand hung at his side, near the gun she knew was tucked in his waistband.
“You alone?” she said, gun hand steady, her expression wiped clean.
“For now.”
“When will they arrive?” She licked her lips, her hand tightening on the gun’s grip.
“When I call them.”
That had her frowning, because it made no sense. When he called them? As if Benton and the Feds gave Vincent leeway to negotiate with her. Benton was frothing at the mouth to destroy the Coppola syndicate. Why would he show restraint when he didn’t need to? Something was going on, but if Vincent were telling the truth, and Benton was truly disinterested in her now, the Feds might be a problem she could back burner while she saved Millie. It was problematic that Vincent had tracked her down so quickly though. All her reasons for leaving him behind remained, and she feared he’d mess up Millie’s rescue, maybe get himself killed.
“How did you find me?” It didn’t really matter, she supposed. What mattered was getting rid of him again.
“I’m not just a pretty face. I had your cellphone traced. I’m FBI, remember?”
Crap. She pulled the offending iPhone from her pants pocket, hating that she still needed it because she was waiting on a call from Dante. Avery tossed it on the side table, and then tensed, using both hands to aim the gun when Vincent slipped his key card into his jacket pocket.
“Relax,” he said. “I’m not going to shoot you, though you deserve it. What about you?”
She narrowed her eyes, a bit confused. “What about me?”
“You going to shoot me?”
She studied his stance; arms folded over his chest, a simmering rage just below his calm. Hmm. He was a dangerous man, and it was best that she remember that. “I’m thinking about it.”
“We had a deal,” he said. “A plan.” She saw hurt on his face. Damn.
“Give me a break.” She climbed on the bed, propped herself up against the headboard, while keeping the Glock aimed at his belly. “A deal implies I had a choice.” She narrowed her eyes. “I should tie you up.”
“Don’t try to distract me with sexy talk. I want some answers.”
She suppressed a smile. So, he wasn’t as angry as he was making himself out to be. “I’m trying to do the right thing, Vincent. You’re making it hard to be a good guy.”
Her words had him shaking his head, staring at the ceiling, and then finally he rubbed his hands over his face. “Right back at you.” He sounded exhausted.
And was making her feel bad. “I’m all she has, Vincent.”
If he sympathized, he hid it well. “I don’t understand why you think you have to do it alone.”
Because Dante knew her secrets. He’d implicate her in his murders, or lie, and say she killed those men. She was The Stinger, after all. Her knife fights with them were brutal, bloody, so her DNA was on their bodies. Dante’s accusations would hold up in court. “I know you don’t understand. I’m sorry.” But she couldn’t trust him with her truth. Not when Millie needed her. Not when she wasn’t the only person who’d suffer consequences.
He indicated the gun, appearing more irritated than afraid. “Have you decided yet? You going to shoot me?”
“I should.” She was such a fraud. She couldn’t shoot him anymore than she could shoot Millie, and that was a huge problem. She needed to be The Stinger again—brutal, heartless—or Millie might die. And Vincent was confusing her. “You should be very, very nervous right now. I’m not right in my head. I… I’m confused.”
“Lady, I’ve been nervous since I laid eyes on you.” He’d somehow made his words sound romantic. “And if you’re confused, I can only think that’s a start. It means you’re willing to think things through. Put the gun down and talk to me.”
She glared at him. “You can be such an idiot.” Avery put the gun on the side table.
“Right back at you.” Vincent sat on the bed next to her, propping his back against the headboard, and they both stared at the television’s blank screen. “You don’t want the Feds’ help, so I’m assuming you have a plan that leaves them out of the loop.”
“Them? You mean you. You’re a Fed.”
“You know what I mean.”
She nodded. “There is only one plan that will work. I drive into the complex, say here I am, give me Millie, and then run away with my sister. The rest is on Dante. He allows me and Millie to leave, or life becomes reacting to whatever he does to stop us.”
“So, suicide?”
“If that’s what it takes. You have a better plan?”
“We will.” And by we she knew he meant the Feds. “They’ll be here in a half an hour.”
“So much for you saying they’ll come when you call.” She glanced at the door. “Honestly, I’d assumed they were outside the door.”
“I hitched a ride and beat them here.”
“Sorry about that.” That he found her, that he was a target of the syndicate, that she’d ditched him at the restaurant, but she wasn’t sorry he was here.
“This is what we do, Avery. Use us. Promise Benton whatever he wants. It will bring you a ton of goodwill and then you and Millie will be safe.”
She shook her head. “Those files don’t exist, or rather, if they do, I have no idea where they’d be. When “Fingers” gave me Dante’s message, I didn’t have any choices left and I didn’t know what else to do, so I said I knew where they were.”
“You should have—”
“Should have, could have, would have. You wanted two things from me. To meet with “Fingers” and you wanted the nonexistent files. One came up snake eyes, so that left the files. I had to lie. It’s not like you’d have allowed me to come to Jersey otherwise.”
“So, Pinnella told you Dante took Millie. And who’s Jason Chadwick to you?”
“I hired him to keep Millie safe.” She sighed. “He wasn’t as good as I’d been led to believe, and now he’s dead.”
“You should have said something to me at the hospital. I could have helped.”
“You mean you would have stopped me. I had to lie. It got me here, waiting on Dante’s call.”
He nodded. “Benton was the snitch you guessed existed in the syndicate. He was outed a day before we found you, but he left with the rumor you had files. He’d sacrificed a lot for that lead, so he’s having a hard time giving it up. He doesn’t want to believe you.”
“Dante invented “incriminating files” to justify putting the hit out on me. Tell Benton he’s lucky he left the syndicate with his life. Console himself with that. Most people aren’t so lucky.”
“You did. You left.”
She shook her head. “Dante took everything from me and Millie. Took her childhood. Took…” She inhaled sharply, forcing down her emotions. “This isn’t living.” The money bag had worked its way under her hip and was biting into a bruise. She pulled it out and set it on the side table.
“All because you left him?” Vincent was trying so hard to understand, she felt bad for him, because when it came to her and Dante, very little made sense. “He allowed you to divorce him. Why bother with the hit?”
She shrugged, not wanting to lie to him anymore, but having no choice. That was one secret she’d bring to her grave. “Scorned entitled man syndrome. Is that a thing? Your guess is as good as mine, but once he decided to do it, he needed a good enough excuse to warrant a contract on Ralph Toner’s little girl. Family is everything in the syndicate. Dante knew what he had to do to justify calling out a hit on me.” Vincent closed his eyes and rested his head against the headboard with a thump. “Do you believe me?” He met her gaze, grimacing.
She wanted him to believe her. Most of it was true.
“I believe you.” He put his arm around her and tugged her to his side. She pressed her face to his chest and did her best to hide that she was smelling him. She loved his smell. “We’ll figure this out. Problem is, Benton has nothing to support his warrant now. No files, no case. Coppola walks.”
“That means you have no right to keep me in custody?”
“None.”
It also meant Vincent had no official reason to stay and help her. The Feds would go back to wherever they came from and Avery and Dante would be left to hash it out in private. It’s what she needed, so why did she feel so devastated?
“Maybe we can get Coppola on kidnapping.” A volume of words pressed against her lips to shut him down. There was no way to save Millie from Dante legally. How could he not see that? The law took time to use, and men like Dante didn’t follow rules. Vincent noticed she’d tensed in his arms. She couldn’t help it. She was freaking. “What are you afraid of?” he said.
She punched his chest, and a spike of pain shot through her hand, forcing her to shake it out. “You tell me!” A million things.
“Those rings are brutal.” Vincent rubbed his chest. “What did I say?”
“I’m afraid, Vincent, because Dante wants me dead, and he has Millie!”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about me. What are you afraid will happen if you allow me to help? If you trusted me?”
Her eyes welled up. “That you’ll be someone else to save.”
“What?” He laughed in her face, and then he scowled, tugging her onto his lap, cradling her in his arms. “You’re a hundred pounds soaking wet. Why would I expect you to save me?”
She lowered her eyes, taking comfort in his words. “Pete will have told him about you. Remember? I said walking into the restaurant with me would put a target on your back. It did.” She licked her lower lip, feeling nervous, but loving how it felt to be in his arms. “Dante will assume we’re lovers. He won’t let you die easily.” She adjusted her position, easing her weight off her bruise.
His eyes narrowed. “Stop wiggling. You’re turning me on.” His words rendered her speechless, even as he continued to scowl. “What is it about you that makes me put up with your shit? You should be over my knee, or…or I should be bringing you in cuffed and shackled, but…” He tilted her chin up with his fingertip, bringing their lips close.
“You should go,” she whispered. He nodded, but didn’t move.
“I should. Then I catch sight of your ass, or the curve of your hip, or I drown in your mesmerizing green eyes.” A shadow fell over his features, and she recognized pain. “And you make me feel...” He was out of control. Avery sympathized. So was she.
“Feel?” she said.
“Yes. You make me feel. I don’t like it.”
Her heart clutched. She couldn’t handle this. “Vincent—”
“Ignore me.” He rested his forehead on hers, sinking his fingers into her hair, holding her in place, closing his eyes. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. “When it comes to women I’m stupid,” he whispered. Then he lifted his head, drew his thumb over her lower lip. She found herself parting her lips for him, wanting his kiss, but she was unable to ask, never having learned how. “But I know men,” Vincent said. “And real men don’t expect their women to save them.” His smile seemed sad. “Though they appreciate the offer.”
Her chin quivered, tears welled in her eyes. She was a mess.
He dropped a kiss on her forehead, and then peppered her cheeks with tiny, gentle kisses, smearing her tears. She clutched his shirt, felt his heart racing under her hand. “Stop running from me,” he said. “Allow me to save you for a change.”
Avery’s head was spinning with what-if’s and buts. How had she gotten here? A desirable lawman was making a commitment to save her, urging her to don the mantel of damsel in distress. He wanted her, or rather, he wanted the woman he thought she was, trusting that she’d be straight with him. How was she any better than his ex-wife? Omission was just as bad as lying, so Avery wasn’t any better.
She turned her head, unable to meet his gaze, and accidentally brushed her lips against his. They tingled, so she licked them to make the sensation go away, but it left her wanting more. Vincent nudged her chin, so she’d look at him again. His breath was coming in shallow bursts, mirroring hers. Then he lowered his lips to hers, though didn’t linger. It was a short, exploratory kiss. He was asking a question, and it was up to her to decide, but he wasn’t making it easy to deny him. His fingertips moved from her jaw, down her neck, her collarbone, and just as she thought he’d cup her breast, he drew his palm down her arm, taking her hand and pressing it over his heart.
“I want you, Avery. You’re all I can think about, and… I think you want me back.”
She felt overwhelmingly shy. When he’d touched her at the cabin, she’d been off her game, barely awake, so by the time she was aware of what was going on, she was already fully aroused. And it had been dark. She didn’t have to look at him looking at her.
“Vincent, I don’t think you understand. Dante wants me back,” she said. “To kill me or control me, I don’t know. He sees me as a trophy. As his. I won’t know what he has planned until I see him, but you must see how you and me is a bad idea. A death sentence.”
Vincent’s gaze hardened, and then he lay her down, and lay side by side with her. “Listen. You talk about your ex like he’s all powerful. He’s not. Do you know who is? Me. Because I’m on your side, and I have the full power of the FBI behind me, and I won’t fucking let him have you.” He covered her mouth with his, his hands clutching her to him, mashing their lips together. She held on, slammed with desire and hope. When he broke the kiss, he kept their faces close. “Do you hear me? He can’t have you,” Vincent growled. “I won’t let him hurt you.”
“But…” She shook her head weakly. “Why?” She didn’t understand why.
Vincent closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly. His chest rose and fell, and she could see him restraining his emotions. The sight excited and impressed her, made her feel like she mattered to him. It brought on feelings of wonder, as if it were happening in a dream, and she didn’t trust them one bit.
“Vincent?”
He opened his eyes, and she saw his confusion all mixed up with something else. That something else was what had her fingertips touching his cheekbone, exploring the hollow below, and gently raking her nails against his thick stubble. He was so beautiful. Wonderful. She ran her palm over his strong chest, his shoulder, loving how he felt, how he made her feel when she touched him.
He was touching her, too. His hand slipped under her shirt, reached behind her and unsnapped her bra; then they were pulling off their weapon sheaths, tossing them to the floor. And then he was kissing her again, sweetly, at first, and then deeper, drugging her with his focused passion, making her feel like the most desirable woman on the planet. He wanted her, as she wanted him, and that had never happened to her before. She’d never wanted a man back. Not like Vincent. He’d become important to her and precious…someone to protect. She broke the kiss, out of breath and feeling vulnerable.
“Somewhere along the way, Vincent, you forgot I was a means to an end. Cut your losses. Save yourself.”
His hand was under her shirt, cupping her breast as he rubbed his lips against hers, mingling their breaths. “I don’t want to be saved.”
His words startled her, and then she realized this was the permission she’d been waiting for. He was telling her to take him. Just…take him.
Avery tugged his shirt up, and with trembling hands, bared his abs, pressing her mouth to his rippling muscles. She wanted to see him, touch his skin. Vincent allowed her to push him onto his back, watching her with dark, haunted eyes. Off came his shirt, and when she reached for his belt, she paused, losing courage. Until Vincent helped and unbuckled it for her. He unzipped his fly, and she watched him, breathless.
Then he reached for her, and she was triggered. She pulled her shirt over her head before throwing it and her bra aside, and then they were shucking their boots. Her Doc Martens took the longest time because they had to be untie, but breathless, their eyes bright with anticipation, they did it together. Pants gone, naked, they met on the bed, knee to knee, facing each other, looking their fill. She admired his beauty, as he explored the scars on her belly, hips, and legs, mementos of her final battle with the six contract killers. She had more knife scars on her forearms, too, but they’d faded against the paleness of her skin, and didn’t pucker, because those cuts hadn’t been as deep.
His gaze was intense, and grim, but his hands never stopped caressing her, his eyes never stopped admiring her curves. “Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he said. “For the right reasons.” They both knew what he was saying. He feared she was playing him. Again.
She swallowed hard. “Making love to you is the most selfish thing I’ll ever do, and if you had even an ounce of self-preservation, you’d run from me, and count yourself lucky.” She pressed her hand over his heart, felt it racing, and drew her other hand down his arm until she reached his hand, and pressed it over her heart, relishing the feel of his callused fingers against her skin. “Touch me.”
He leaned, swept his tongue along her lower lip, tickling it open, and then plunged inside, sealing their mouth together. He kissed her with a gentleness and expertise she’d come to associate with Vincent. He had her near swooning within moments, and all the while, she trembled, loving how his muscles grew taut at her touch. His strength, the gloriousness of his physique, was all hers. All of him. Maybe just for now, but she’d take it.
“This is insane.” She barely recognized her voice. “We’ll pay for this. I know it. We’ll pay.” She lowered her mouth to his chest, tasting him.
“What wouldn’t I pay?” His words sent tingles through her body as he caressed her back, her ass, squeezing her as he pulled her hips toward him, making her feel his arousal. The tips of her breasts mashed against him. She lifted her mouth, seeking his kiss, moaning when he drew her tongue into his mouth. Melting in his arms, she felt the tension build in her lower belly, making her swell with want, become wet with need. She wanted him inside her.
Vincent lowered her to the mattress, slipped a knee between her knees, and spread her wide as he positioned himself above her. With Dante, once he was inside her, it was soon over, and she’d always been left wanting. Avery couldn’t survive if that happened now. Her body was on fire, desperate for release.
Then Vincent surprised her, growing still. Elbows supporting his weight, he held her gaze, and waited. For what, Avery had no idea. With fluttering hands, she ran them across his chest, lifting her chin, hoping to make him kiss her, touch her. Yet, he hesitated, poised to sheath himself inside her, studying her body.
“What? What should I do?” She knew how this worked. Dante had been a demanding lover. What was she doing wrong?
“Just…let me look at you.” His gaze lingered on her hair, her eyes, her lips. “You’re so damn sexy. So. Damn. Sexy.” He moved lower on her body, tasting the tip of her breast, swirling his tongue around the nipple. Her thighs trembled as they squeezed together, pinning his waist, wanting him to touch her more intimately, to ease her growing need.
Arching upward, she felt his mouth suckle her. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him at her breast, overwhelmed by her wanting, but needing more. She whimpered when he lifted his head. But Vincent had moved on to her other breast, teasing this one now with a flick of his thumb. Soon, his caress moved down her stomach, over her scars, kissing them. Then he cupped her between her legs, and she was more than ready for him, wiggling against his hand, his questing finger. She gasped when he sheathed it inside her, bucking at his first stroke, even as his tongue thrust inside her mouth. Moaning, lightheaded, she edged toward climax. Then Vincent stopped and pulled back.
“Huh?” She lifted herself onto her elbows, having a hard time focusing. Vincent reached for his pants on the floor, and pull a wrapped condom from his pocket.
“Call me a cockeyed optimist.” He tore it open with his teeth, handed it to her, and then lay on his back. “Put it on me.”
Eyes wide, she eagerly complied, reveling in the hungry look on his face. He focused on her hands moving over his erection, and gasped when she gave him a tiny squeeze when she was done. Smiling, Avery pushed Vincent onto his back. He chuckled, helping her straddle him. Then she positioned him between her legs and sheathed herself with one downward movement.
Her eyes lost focus, and suddenly it felt as if she didn’t need to breathe. Vincent inhaled sharply, dug his fingers into her hips, holding her in place. When she could focus, she saw his eyes had become heavy-lidded, and his mouth seemed poised to bite. Then he moved beneath her, guiding her hips, showing her what he wanted, creating their rhythm. Sweat broke out on her upper lip and cooled her back as pleasure made her weak, and soon it became a struggle to stay upright. Then he was moving faster inside her, adjusting her on him. She wanted to watch him, to enjoy his arousal, but she was too busy throwing her head back and moaning as stroke after stroke buffeted her with pleasure.
Vincent blew…her…mind.
Filled her completely. Had her arching toward him even as his hips surged inside her. She’d never felt the like as Vincent controlled her completely. He whispered her name, hot and breathy, as if against his will. Then he pulled her chest down to him, mashing her breasts against his hardness. He flipped them, until she was on her back and he was pinning her hips to the mattress, burying himself even deeper. She gasped, saw stars, and then his rhythm became fierce as he moved inside her, tipping her over an edge to orgasm, to…ecstasy.
“Vincent!” She turned her face, hiding it in the hollow of his neck. She felt him shudder, knew he’d found his release, even as he continued to move, longer strokes now, feeding her climax aftershocks.
The whole thing was heartrending, devastating, and… Avery couldn’t wait to do it again. She laughed, floored by the enormity of it all. Vincent pressed his lips to her neck, his chest shaking, silently laughing. Happy. They were happy.
She rubbed his back, grabbed his ass and squeezed, and then locked her legs around his waist, not wanting to let him go. She wanted to thank him, to congratulate him for showing her what sex could be like, but feared it was a novice move, and would reveal her inexperience with orgasms.
He pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, and then pressed his face in the hollow of her neck, nuzzling. Time stood still and neither spoke as they caught their breath and calmed their racing hearts. It was wonderful. Avery felt amazing, and she wanted to memorize the feeling, memorize everything about this moment. His embrace, the tickling of his breath as it moved the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck. She wanted to remember every detail, so when he was gone, and when life got so bad she thought nothing could warrant the effort to survive, she’d have this memory: his protective embrace, his scratchy cheek on her neck, their sweat and heat mingling.
Because bad times were coming.
Soon, Vincent would know everything; who she was, what she’d done.
That was inevitable. He’d stick with her until he knew, because he was that kind of guy…the good kind. Only the truth about who she was would make him abandon her, but she had now, and this memory. It would have to be enough.
Her phone rang, and her heart skipped with fear. She unlocked her legs, and lay splayed on the bed, staring at the ceiling as he remained buried inside her. “I can’t breathe.”
Vincent rolled off her, sitting on the bed’s edge as he picked up her ringing phone. “Do you think it’s Coppola?”
“It has to be, unless it’s the Feds.” And why would they call Avery, instead of Vincent? They wouldn’t. The phone continued to ring.
He glanced at the incoming phone number. “It’s not Benton.”
Pressing her palm to her forehead, she held her breath, struggling to compose herself. She waited as long as she dared before snatching the phone from Vincent’s hand and hitting the accept button. She pressed it to her ear. “Yeah?” She held her breath, staring at the water-stained ceiling.
“Hello, baby. Miss me?” Dante’s smooth, deep tone gave her a chill.
She caught Vincent’s gaze and held it. He was all that was good in a man. All that Dante wasn’t. Whatever he saw in her eyes had Vincent grabbing his Glock off the side table.
“You got my message.” She bit her lip.
“Yes, I did,” Dante said. “Poor Pete. He wanted you to know he was sending his mother to Boca to retire. You certainly made an impression, but then again, you always do.”
“I want proof of life. Put Millie on.”
“You shouldn’t have betrayed me, Avery.”
“I didn’t betray you.”
“You know what you did.”
“I want to speak to Millie.”
“She’s fine, swimming in the pool. Don’t worry about her. Beautiful things always have their value in my home.”
Avery swallowed hard. So, Millie was at the mansion and Dante wanted her to know. “She’s not yours to keep, Dante. You know that, right?” She wouldn’t allow it.
“Who’s the man you’re with? Pete told me you had a bodyguard. Are you lovers?” He couldn’t hide his jealousy, and knowing Dante, he probably felt as if he had a right to it.
She reached for Vincent, gripping his thigh, needing the assurance of his solidness, his strength. Vincent covered her hand, squeezing gently. “We’re divorced, Dante. You have no right to ask about my personal life.”
He chuckled. “In the eyes of the church we’re married until one of us dies.”
There was a knock on the door, loud and insistent. The Feds had arrived. She turned to Vincent, used her free hand to indicate her nakedness, and that he needed to buy them time for her to finish this call and get dressed. He nodded and stood, moving toward the door, showing her his fine ass. Even freaked by talking with her psychopathic ex, there was still a portion of her mind devoted to admiring the insane beauty of Special Agent Vincent Modena’s naked glory.
“Goodbye, Avery. I’ll miss you.” The way he said it scared her.
“Let me talk to Millie!”
“That would upset her and she’s only now calmed from that messiness in Boston.” Jason Chadwick’s murder. Millie’s kidnapping. “She doesn’t have your constitution, baby. A little blood and she fainted dead away.” The knocking continued, but Avery ignored it. Vincent, gun in hand, peered through the peep hole. What he saw had him shaking his head impatiently, walking back to Avery and the bed.
“I’m coming, Dante.” She squeezed the phone so hard it bit into her hand. “No need to kill anyone else.”
“You should have left the rings.”
“You want them? I’ll give you anything, just let me speak to her,” Avery said. The line disconnected.
A deafening boom coincided with a hole the size of a grapefruit being blown from the door’s lock. Her mind registered the sound of a shotgun blast, even as a large woman appeared behind the now open door. Dark brown hair in a bun, wearing a housekeeping uniform, her brown eyes promised violence as she aimed her shotgun at Avery.
Angelina Modelli. One of Dante’s preferred contract killers.
Avery rolled to the floor, and seconds later the mattress’s edge disintegrated with a shotgun blast. Vincent got off three rounds, which bought him time to run into the bathroom. Avery low crawled to the bed’s edge, peeking around. Lina had taken cover in the hall, but her shotgun’s barrel was still in view, aimed toward the bathroom.
“Lina!” Avery bit off an expletive. The contract killer’s presence here meant Dante had known Avery was at the hotel this whole time. “Don’t do this! He’s lying to you!”
“I don’t care! I’ve wanted to kill you for years, Avery! Don’t try to ruin my fun!” Lina cackled from the hall. On Avery’s wedding day, she’d caught her French-kissing Dante in his office. “He requested your hands as proof of death.” She laughed. “Just your hands. Wants to make sure you’re good and dead.” The rings. But Lina would recognize the six rings, too. Did that mean Lina was in Dante’s confidence?
Vincent was giving minimal cover fire, making her think he was conserving rounds. Avery’s gun was by her feet, so she grabbed it, chambered a round, and aimed toward the door. Lina shot the floor next to her, forcing Avery to scurrying back, seeking cover.
“Lina! I’m only back for Millie!”
“I don’t care. I earned this kill. For the last three years, all I’ve heard is Avery this and Avery that.” The distinct sound of a shotgun being reloaded had Avery on her feet, rushing the door. She grabbed the barrel just as Lina had it cocked and ready to go.
Avery pulled. Lina’s grip was sure. A tug of war ensued, bringing them both into the room. The shotgun discharged, blowing a hole in the ceiling, just as Avery kicked Lina’s knee out. It buckled, and Lina fell to one knee, swinging a handgun up with her other hand.
Vincent, still naked, rushed from the bathroom, gun extended. He pulled the trigger, his bullet grazing Lina’s shoulder. “Drop it!” Lina recoiled as her shoulder was thrown back, but didn’t lose her grip on the gun, so Avery kicked it from her hand. It hurting like hell, making her foot scream with pain, but it was a twofer, because Lina lost her balance, allowing Avery to grab the shotgun and toss it aside.
Vincent rushed them, pressing his gun to Lina’s head. It should have ended there, but Lina risked it all, slapping his wrist. Vincent got off a shot, missed, but it was fired close enough to Avery to force an instinctive recoil, giving Lina an opening. She locked Avery’s arm behind her back, and used her as a shield against Vincent. Avery stomped on Lina’s foot, and found herself thrown into Vincent for her troubles. He caught her, and then dove with her to the floor as Lina retrieved her gun and fired. It clicked, empty.
Vincent jumped to his feet, and lunged at Lina, who lashed out. Vincent ducked and came up with a hook punch, which Lina parried before unsheathing a knife and slashing. Vincent evaded, but barely.
Avery howled, furious that Lina had come so close to killing him. She rushed Lina, chopped her wrist, and the knife fell to the floor as Vincent retrieved his gun. But in her rush to overpower Lina, Avery got hit with a sucker punch, and fell on her face.
Lina followed her to the floor, putting her in a rear choke. Dazed, unable to break Lina’s hold, she saw Vincent above them, his gun aimed at Lina. He didn’t have a clear shot, and Lina was using her as a shield. Avery palm-heeled Lina’s elbow, turning her face toward Lina’s chest, desperate to break the hold, to breathe, as they scrambled on the floor.
“Shoot her.” Avery’s words came out as a croak. Lina squeezed harder, continuing to position Avery between her and Vincent.
“Who’s the guy, Avery?” Lina snickered in her ear. “You’re not the type to work with a partner, and I obviously interrupted something.” Avery was seeing stars. “Can’t wait to tell Dante I killed you after you cheated on him. He’ll love that.” Avery gagged, pulling on Lina’s wrist. “You stole files. You’re a snitch. Dante hates you now.”
“Let her go.” Vincent looked as if he had a shot, but wasn’t taking it. “She dies, you die. Shots have been fired. Cops will be here soon. I’d rather they not find two bodies.”
“Oh, they’ll find two bodies. The files, Avery. Where are they?”
Avery bucked her hips, and jammed her fingers between Lina’s wrist and her throat, pulling hard enough to gain breath enough to shout, “Shoot her!”
Lina swore. “What the hell! Where’d you get those rings?” Lina squeezed harder, but Avery’s fingers were protecting her neck, rendering the choke ineffective. “Answer me!”
Avery caught Vincent’s eye, saw him staring at her, waiting with Lina for her answer. Shock, and then gutting betrayal slammed into her, forcing Avery to dig deep. She grabbed Lina’s hair, bumped her with her hip, and switched their positions. Now Lina was under Avery, and though she still had her arms around Avery’s neck, Avery’s forearm was on Lina’s throat, with all her weight behind it. Lina pushed at Avery, who grabbed her wrist. Flipping onto her back, Avery put Lina into an arm bar, draping her calves over Lina’s face and torso to complete the pin.
“Where’d you get them?” Lina was screaming, enraged and unable to move.
With a brutal skyward thrust of Avery’s hips, she yanked on Lina’s wrist, breaking the bitch’s elbow. Lina released a guttural scream. It was a horrible sound, and then Vincent was there, resting a knee on Lina’s chest. He pressed his gun to Lina’s forehead as Avery scrambled away. The contract killer was half unconscious, and didn’t resist.
Vincent was furious. “Why was she so upset about your rings? You said they’d belonged to your family.”
Avery’s throat hurt, and she was sore. Every injury she’d acquired in the last few days were protesting, and Vincent… He was looking at her like she was the enemy.
“Leave me alone.” Her words came out like a croak. She held her throat, flinching with every swallow.
Vincent was so busy glaring at Avery, he’d missed Lina reviving from her near faint. Lina swept his leg out from under him, and though Vincent’s leg flew into the air, it came down hard, as an ax kick to Lina’s head. She was unconscious by the time he hopped to his feet.
“No more lies, Avery.”
She pushed off the floor and swayed when she stood upright. Life’s pendulum had swung from heaven back to hell, and it was time to shoulder soul-crushing sadness again. She didn’t welcome it, but it was familiar, so she knew what to do. Time to move on.