Page 126 of Coerced Kiss
“Shoot a man without claiming responsibility?” I down what’s left of my drink. “That’ll make me a traitor and a coward. I’m neither.”
Giorgio smiles, turning cold, hard eyes on me. “Fine. I’ll just give you the order when I’m in charge then.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and says as he saunters away, “It shouldn’t take long. My father has one foot in the grave already.”
I stare after him, a fucking volcano boiling up inside me.
“I’m going to get some pussy,” he calls without looking back. “Coming?”
I don’t bother to reply.
“Suit yourself,” he says, taking the stairs to the upper floor where the private rooms are situated.
The minute he’s out of sight, I fish my phone from my pocket and check Anya’s location.
She’s at the office.
I have bodyguards following her everywhere, but I fire off a message to double the men. My steps are urgent as I make my way to the underground parking lot.
From now on, Anya is going nowhere outside of her workplace without me. I have a good mind to make her resign from her job, but the problem is that she loves that job. It’s important to her to earn her own money. Working at the firm makes her happy, and if she’s happy, the baby is happy. If she’s upset, so is the baby, and that’s not good.
Breaking the speed limit, I drive to the Meatpacking District and park in the street in front of the firm. Before I’ve cut the engine, I’ve already taken stock of the surroundings. I’ve catalogued the windows in the building across the road a snipermay use. I’ve pinpointed my men—two at the top of the street and one across the road. I’ve noted the state issued car in front of the main entrance of the firm before a bulky man with a blond brush cut gets out.
Detective Jordan.
Anya opens the glass door and steps onto the sidewalk. A ray of sunlight that cuts through the buildings reflects the fiery red of her hair. The long, thick waves tumble around her shoulders, swaying as she looks left and right before climbing down the sidewalk. Her body is supple and toned, her small figure curvy in all the right places. Her beauty is fresh and unconventional. That face of a goddess is any artist’s dream come true. She’ll look amazing on canvas and on film.
I cross the road before she has time to advance. A driver honks his horn. I reach her in a few long strides, pulling her into the safety of my arms. She lets me hug her, but her slight figure is tense.
I kiss her lips, lingering for a few seconds before pulling away to cup her cheek. “Everything okay?”
“Yes,” she says with a strained smile.
No, everything isn’t fine. She’ll tell me what’s bothering her—I won’t give her a choice—but we’ll talk at home.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, I keep Jordan in my sight as I lead her toward the traffic light on the corner. He comes around the car and leans on the side.
“No more jaywalking,” I say, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. “Someone can run you over.”
Jordan straightens when we near. I hold his gaze, pinning him with a killer look. If he came to see if I drive my girlfriend home after work, he got his answer.
He walks into our path and shoulders me with a shit-eating grin. “Have a nice day, De Luca.”
Anya looks over her shoulder at him. “Who’s that?”
The traffic light turns green.
“Just a guy I met briefly,” I say, steering her over the road at the pedestrian crossing. “He’s no one important.”
She cranes her neck until he gets into his car and pulls into the traffic.
I open her door when we reach the Corvette. “Hop in. I have something to show you.”
On impulse, I head toward the abandoned factory on the outskirts of town and park on the big parking lot. The guards who follow stop at the gates.
“What are we doing here?” Anya asks.
I cut the engine and throw her the keys. “I’m going to teach you how to drive.”
Her eyes grow round.