Chapter 19
2357words
My phone rings as George ruffles his feathers and dunks his head beneath the surface of the water in the inflatable kiddie pool in the far corner of my office.
'You've been a good duck today. Just stay in the pool for a few more minutes then we can go home, got it?" I ask as he surfaces.
He looks at me, then dunks beneath the water's surface again. I'm taking that as a definite yes. So far, he's been good; all through my morning sessions, he barely even quacked.
I roll my ergonomic chair a few feet from the pool to the desk and answer the phone.
'Hello?"
Silence.
Ugh. 'You know, I wouldn't mind if you threw in some heavy breathing to make this worth my while," I say, then hang up.
It's the fifth call I've gotten since arriving home from Harmony just over a week ago—three to my office number and two to my cell phone, all from untraceable numbers. I would have blamed it on Zade—some sort of scare tactic—if I didn't know the man better.
Zade Vitalo is an enigma with a cold, almost inhumanly cruel shell. But somehow, I slipped beneath his walls to the warm, incredibly giving man—the one he doesn't allow to breathe because, frankly, it could get him killed.
I wonder if I'll ever see him again. Common sense and self-preservation dictate that I shouldn't. But try telling that to my body that behaves like it's withdrawing. I never even had sex with the man. Although, who am I kidding? That soul-destroying kiss alone was more intense than anything I've ever felt before. My tongue darts to the healing bump on the corner of my lower lip and I feel a familiar tug in my pelvis.
I sigh, willing the hot memories away, and then reach up for one of the blue folders on my desk. I should make detailed notes for Mrs. Tisdale's session while they're still fresh in my mind before heading home.
The office closes early on Tuesday, and Eva has already left, locking the door behind her. I power up my iPad, but before I can load up the secure app, my scrawled note from a few nights ago catches my eye. Notes from days' worth of research on the Outfit, but mostly on the Vitalo family. ‘Cunning,' ‘dangerous,' and ‘ruthless'; these words come up often, but there are other words that have caught my attention, like ‘benefactor,' ‘restoration,' and ‘donations.'
Zade Vitalo doesn't just have his fingers in every illicit pie in the city; he's also neck-deep in fundraiser events and charity organizations too.
'He's just like the goddamned freaking Reapers," I complain to George.
The Reaper Druids MC are arguably the most prominent organization in Harmony, and despite their illicit business and arms dealing, they are a community favorite for their frequent benefit and toy rides. Their motorcycle garage is renowned for unbeatably low charges, and their open fight against drugs and human trafficking makes them very impervious to local police, who have found a way to turn a blind eye to their interstate arms dealing. After all, it's a problem for the feds, not the local police.
I force myself to focus, finish my notes then start to pack up for the day.
I'm just about to coax George out of the pool when I hear a brief scraping. It's the faint sound of grinding metal. My office door is open, so it must be coming from the locked door in the waiting area. Odd. I remember the prank call thirty minutes ago and dread settles in my spine.
What now? Have I become a target for every perp in Chicago, then?
I slide my hand down my thigh, searching for the reassuring hilt of my dagger, and feel…nothing. Oh, shit, I left it with Zade. A dangerous move that I like to think eventually paid off.
Is it weird that I knew Zade wouldn't hurt me even before he realized it himself?
I grab a fountain pen and move toward the waiting room to investigate. When the outer door suddenly opens, I gasp.
Zade appears in the doorway. All hard, chiseled six-foot-plus inch of him. He stops when he sees me, his gaze heating up. Then he stalks toward me, kinda like he did when he was trying to kill me eleven days ago.
Speak of the fucking devil.
I take a few steps back and position myself between Zade and George—which is ridiculous. Somehow, I don't think he's here to take down my duck.
'What are you doing here?" I ask, because ‘how did you get in here?' seems like a moot point with the sleek lockpick kit dangling from his hand.
His bright blue eyes rakes me from my feet up and stops at my mouth. I resist the urge to lick my lips. I know, without a doubt, he's thinking about the kiss. Then he looks past me into the office
'You brought the duck to work?"
I shrug. 'I feel like this isn't the most relevant conversation we could be having, but okay, yes. I feel bad leaving him at home for too long so I bring him to work on Tuesdays." And there's the small issue of the havoc George manages to wreak when he's alone and upset.
Zade shakes his head and drags a hand down his face. 'Of course, you feel bad for the duck," he mutters under his breath.
'Is that somehow a problem?" I ask, weighing the situation. He doesn't look poised to attack. He looks… uncertain, which is not a way I'd imagined a man like Zade could look.
'You're the problem," he sighs as he reaches me. I can practically feel the heat radiating off him. He still hasn't stopped staring at my lip. I suppose it's the small bump drawing his attention like a beacon.
I raise my eyebrows. 'If you're here to dole out more threats, don't bother." The last one about Mags had cut deeper than I'd expected, but it hadn't scared me. He doesn't scare me anymore. But somehow, his threatening someone I love hurt me more than I could say.
'You like to psychoanalyze me, don't you? Well, you have the next ten minutes. Sit down." It comes out like a command, but there's a hint of desperation in it, a plea.
I cross my arms over my chest like armor and force an eye roll. 'I thought you couldn't stand therapy. Besides, we've already established that this," I motion between us, 'doesn't work—and that was even before you threatened the people I care about."
He looks at me for a moment, his expression closed. Who the hell knows what he's thinking right now?
'I'm sorry, Sapphire," he says suddenly—and it actually sounds sincere, not sarcastic.
Whoa. I hadn't expected that. 'You don't strike me as a person who's often sorry," I muse.
'I'm not," he says, meeting my gaze head-on. 'I'm never sorry."
'Until now?"
He nods. 'Until now," he says quietly.
Well, damn. I'm desperately trying to hold onto my detachment, but it's kind of difficult when the big, tough mafia guy is apologizing like he means it.
'All right," I say tentatively. 'But just so you know, Mags grew up in a house full of military men. She learned how to shoot when she was five and how to tear out a man's throat when she was eleven. And she was the one who taught me how to use the karambit knife."
He looks at me for a moment, then nods. 'Now that's admirable. I really like that," he says, then walks past me and sits down on the leather sofa.
A very large, stupid part of me wants to sit down beside him. All right, that part of me wants to climb right on top of him. The man can be an asshole, but he's also an Adonis who has a whole lot more heart than maybe even he realizes.
But wise woman that I am, I take a seat in my ergonomic chair, a safe, professional distance away while George flaps his wings like he's about to take flight, then shoves his beak into the eight inches of water again.
I'm too curious about his statement not to ask, 'You say you like that about Mags. Is that because you generally prefer your women to be tough? Women you won't have to protect?"
'My world can be dangerous, so yes, generally toughness is always an appealing trait," he states. 'But has nothing to do with the women I fuck."
Asshole, I want to snap, because that statement brings to mind indiscriminate fucking with nameless women. Which irritates the hell out of me.
There are so many follow-up questions I want to ask him. Like where he stashed this asshole when he gave me a much-needed physical outlet for guilt and pain and whatever other confused emotions I was feeling back in Harmony.
When he bound the hand I slashed on a whim.
When he kissed the living daylights out of me and then let me go, to the disbelief of his men.
When he sent a car to take me home because he'd dropped me in the middle of nowhere.
But I shut my mouth, waiting for him to talk. It's his session, after all.
'Mariana called you," Zade says into the silence.
Shit. Can the woman not keep a single secret? 'She did," I reply smoothly. 'She wanted to make sure I was still breathing."
He nods like this comes as no surprise.
'And you told her she needs to do exactly what I say," he states, though his tone is slightly questioning, as though he can't quite believe I'd said that.
The woman probably relayed the entire conversation back to Zade verbatim. 'More or less."
'Why did you do that, Sapphire? Was it out of fear?"
I sit back in my chair, shoulders relaxed, and arch an eyebrow. 'Do I seem afraid of you?"
He chuckles, but there's little humor in the sound. 'No, you don't. So, why did you advise her to trust me?"
'Because as much as it doesn't fit in my ‘perfect, new-life box of black and white,'" I snap, throwing his words back at him because I'm still sore about that comment, 'I believe that a man like you has a better chance of protecting Mariana and her daughter than WITSEC does."
He looks at me, but he's not wearing his happy face. 'You think you know me, Sapphire Kellan?"
Right. He doesn't like it when I show that I can read him so easily. Too bad. Well, he should stop talking to me then. 'I know you better than you think, Zade Vitalo."
'I was going to kill you," he grinds out, watching my response closely. 'Did you know that?"
'Yes, on the plane," I say with a feigned air of boredom. 'At least, you thought you were going to."
'You couldn't have stopped me," he says quietly.
I shrug. 'Maybe not, but I didn't have to, Zade. You were never going to pull that trigger."
'Is that so?"
'Tell me I'm wrong," I say, meeting his eyes.
His eyes take a faraway look and his jaw clenches tight. 'No," he admits. 'I couldn't go through with it."
I nod, satisfied.
He shakes his head like he's exasperated with me. 'That is not a good thing."
'Actually, I have to say that from my position, it kind of is—the whole I'm still breathing thing, you know?"
'I've done far worse things than put a potential threat in the ground. And I have always done what needed to be done. You fucked with that," he says, his voice harsh.
Hmm, he isn't just conflicted here; he's pissed—at me, it seems.
I sit up straighter in my chair. 'I didn't fuck with anything, Zade. It wasn't me who broke into your office. I didn't invite myself along on your trip back home. You did those things, and if you don't like what came of it? Well, that's on you."
And then it hits me why he's here—what problem it is he wants me to solve.
'You want me to tell you how to turn it off," I say, shaking my head slowly.
He doesn't deny it.
'There's no button to push or faucet to turn, Zade. You care, and you hate it. And fear it."
'I don't—"
'Yes, you do," I snap, cutting him off. 'You liked the clever setup Reaper Druids MC have and the way they dominate Harmony, similar to your ownership of Chicago. You admired Phoenix, Grease, and Razor. Mud Night was like one of your clubs, albeit with a rawer edge. You're used to refined spirits, Zade, but Harmony is like that gritty, unfiltered ale that captures you with its full-bodied charm."
'Fine, woman!" he concedes, 'I care, and I want to shut it off. But it's not because I fear it, but because it needs to be off, Sapphire. In my world—"
'I know your world, Zade," I interject again. 'And you know what? I know my dad's world too. It's every bit as cunning and ruthless as yours, but he doesn't see an enemy in everything that doesn't belong into his world. You complain about my ‘perfect, black and white box', but you sure seem to be trying to cram all your limbs into a tiny gray box of your own."
He suddenly stands up and crosses the space between us, reminding me how much bigger he is, how he pretty much towers over me when I'm standing up, never mind when I'm sitting down.
'I should want to punish you for the way you speak to me."
A shiver runs down my spine, but it's not cold; it's hot, just shy of scorching. It has me thinking about the ripped planes of his chest and his perfectly etched abs beneath his suit. I can practically feel the hard length of his cock beneath my hand and the tantalizing piercing I'd never quite gotten to see.
