Fool's Gold: A Kisses and Crimes Novel (17 page)

BISHOP

“You’re
fucking
out, Donovan.

You jeopardized the entire op for a piece of criminal pussy. The next time you go off the reservation, you’re
out
. For good. You’re lucky I got to you first and not the rest of the Feds. Otherwise, you’d be
under
the jail.”

He leans forward.

“
Are you listening
? Do you understand me, Agent Bischetti?”

The words don’t even register to me. Nothing but the pain does, actually.

A fire, dull and unforgiving, burns to the left of my heart and in my shoulder. An even deeper fire burns behind my blazing eyes.

I train the flame right at Delaney.

Delaney let her walk out. He let her walk out for good with no fucking questions asked.

Delaney doesn’t give a fuck. The FBI
never
gave a fuck.

None of them.

Not about me… and definitely not about a Gafanelli, though Delaney never specifically said as much.

He’d been my idol as long as I could remember.

A lonely kid in a police station, he’d approached me with promises of vengeance.

At ten, he’d given me a sense of fulfillment, a goal in life.

At twenty-three, he’d introduced me to the assignment that would
change my life
.

I’d once believed every single thing the man said. At thirty, I know now better
not
to.

They’d used me.

An inexperienced kid from Jersey with murdered parents and Mafia connections, I’d been nothing but the perfect puppet for them.

No ties. No excuses. No future.

Until Dani changed all of that.

I’d stayed past the initial term of my assignment, sticking it out for a sense of duty. Not to the FBI, not to the Gafanellis.

Not even to my own fucking self.

I’d done it for
her
…
because she was different
.

Like me, she was born into a world she shouldn’t have been, a life she’d
never
have chosen for herself if given the chance.

Raised by a thief of a father and a co-conspirator of a mother, I’d been just ten years old when they’d been killed for allegedly having ties to the feds.

My fate was set… and I never stood a goddamned chance.

I’d hoped that Dani did.

And now she never will… because the men that pursued her outside of the Regency the night of her father’s party, the ones who’d crashed our cab and tried to put holes in us are still out there.

And now so is she.
Alone
.

I’ve gotta get word to Jackson immediately.

I reach over for my wallet.

“Donovan…”

“Where the fuck is it?” I grunt under my breath.

“
Donovan! Do you hear a goddamned thing I’m saying?”

I glance at Delaney. “Maybe…”

“Donovon, get your fucking shit together, man. You’ve got bigger problems than…”

I can’t hear the rest. I swear I can’t.

All I can think about is Daniela… my wallet… my freaking cell phone.

The cell phone!
Shit. I can track her. I sure as shit don’t see the little black box here.

My fingers find my cell on the nearby nightstand, and I start dialing before Delaney even finishes talking.

“Donovan!”
Delaney practically screams.

I hold up a hand. “
I’m dying over here, Delaney
. Let me have my last phone call…”

“Who are you calling?” he asks.

I ignore him.

The phone begins to ring on the other line, and I wait. Delaney can’t keep his mouth shut. He puts an insistent hand over my own.

“You wouldn’t be calling your piece of runaway alleyway pussycat, would you?”

I shake his hand from atop of mine.

“I
understood
the consequences when I did it. I
understand
the consequences now… but if you
ever
refer to Dani like that again… I will kill you where you fucking stand. Tell me if you understand
that
.”

Delaney is taken aback. Fear flashes briefly in his eyes, but he quickly recovers from it. The self-important son-of-a-bitch.

“Or,” he continues without prompt, “maybe you’re even calling… that other no-good sonuvabitch,
Jackson
?”

He scoffs.

“I taught you
both
better than this. He’s
ex-FBI
for a reason, Bishop…”

He shakes his head at me.

“And he just might not be on your side anymore… Not after what I’ve just learned…”

I narrow my eyes up at him as his cell phone goes to voicemail for the second time. I end the call.

“Not picking up, is he? Seems your little birdie flew the coup. He cleared out of London, left you and Dani to fend themselves.”

He takes a step.

“Your two-timing sidekick has been missing for the past two days.”

DANI

I’ve never been to a hostel before.

Daughters of infamous criminals don’t stay in hostels.

With my three thousand dollars down to twenty-five, a six-hour train ride, and a strange visit to a few more weird marketplaces under my belt, I splurge on a familiar comfort.

A hotel room the size of a large bathroom. It has a funny smell, white towels that feel like sandpaper and absolutely no goddamned hot water, but at this point, I don’t even care.

I treat the place like five-star luxury.

If I take a bath, it will probably make me shit icicles in the morning, but at least I ate a real meal today.

I combed my hair. I bought a fresh pair of underwear.

And I make it all the way into my cold shower before the tears, stinging behind my eyes all day, finally start to fall.

Prideful and stubborn for hours, they now flow down my face freely.

Salty. Warmer than the freezing water around me.  I almost welcome them.

They’re the first real things I’ve felt in two days—two days where every emotion I’ve felt has been minced and diced, bottled up and sent soaring into outer space with a tag that says “Do Not Return.”

I’m tired of feeling.

I’m tired of being lonely and afraid, stepped on and stepped over.

I fell for a man who was the last person on Earth I should have cared for. I ran away from what is probably the most dangerous family on the planet.

Add one mean-looking Fed and a cash count nearing zero, and you had whatever was left of Daniela Gafanelli.

Former Mafia Princess. Soon-to-be beggar.

Neither one of which sounded the least bit appealing.

But maybe I’d been wrong about the former.

I was so quick to cast aside my former life, so easily sucked in by the promise of something new. But look where “new” got me.

Maybe I’d been a fool.

And who was I if I wasn’t a Gafanelli?

Now, I was nothing. I’d
be
nothing… and when they buried my body in the years to come, the stamp of my “nothingness” would be imprinted on my gravestone in Potter’s field.

I’d given up my life… and thought somehow that I could replace it by being Bishop’s wife.

And the most awful part? He never really cared.

I was a job to him, for my father… for the Feds. It was simply an exchange of goods for services.

And was I any different?

I gave up my goods… and Bishop serviced me. Right into a shithole.

If there was any truth to the theory about whores and housewives… then maybe it really
was
impossible to turn one into the other.

I try to wash away the stigma of my stupidity along with all the other labels that can apply.

I hop out of the shower—cold, wet and alone.

The second I wrap the hotel’s uncomfortable white towel over my breasts, I realize that I’m not so much of the latter.

I enter the bedroom, and the sound of a creak on the nearby floorboards catches my attention. I turn, looking towards the front door when a warm hand clamps over my mouth and chin.

Instinctively, I claw at the arm and hand.

A voice, raspy and gravelly, breathes into my ear.

“Please, Dani,” it pants. “Try not to scream. I don’t want to…”

But it’s too late.

I don’t care or want to know what the wheezing man needs.

I attack, planting one foot against the dresser and the other against the wall to push off. I drive my body backwards into his, slamming us both into the brick that lies directly beside the bathroom wall.

He hits it with a sickening thud and his grasp grows loose. I try to throw him off, attempting to topple his body with my quick movements and pure anger.

But his arm is too strong.

It holds sturdy across my chest, pressing. My towel slips, sliding to the floor, and still I fight.

Heart racing, panic setting in, I throw every ounce of my body weight—bones and all—on top of him, trying to crush him against every corner, every edge, every piece of furniture I can see.

The man’s grunts and groans spur me even further.

His exhaustion is setting in. I can hear the tiredness in his voice.

Instead of words, he speaks in cries of pain. He rests against the doorway breathing hard, with me in his arms, and his whispers across the top of my head aren’t much more than a wispy rattle.

A dying croak, it seems, as his will tapers out, diminishing into nothing.

He suddenly lets me go, and I whirl on him, stark naked and almost ashamed. Doubled over, he raises his hand to seemingly stop my oncoming screams.

He raises his head… and lets me look into the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever fucking seen.

I cover up a gasp.

Bishop.
Full flesh and bone. Looking half the man he was when I left him.

He almost buckles at the knee.

Bright red blood spatters the color of my hotel curtains decorate the bandages at his chest and shoulder. His hair is sweaty, plastered above his brow, and I can see the slivers of sweat at his neck and torso.

He wears a jacket to cover his naked abdomen. Shirtless and in jeans, he nearly kneels at my feet.

I want to go to him, but can’t. I look on at him in surprise as my feet turn into glue on the floor.

“Dani,” he whispers my name, trying to walk towards me.

Bent at the waist, his body slanted at an awkward angle, he makes his way towards me.

Ignoring my nudity, he holds a hand out for my arm.

Afraid, worried and utterly bewildered, I reach for him, grabbing his muscular biceps in my tiny hands.

His forehead grazes mine, and in that split fraction of a second my skin caresses his, my “hero” of yesterday, my former dark knight collapses, falling into my arms so hard he brings me down with him.

I keep his head from hitting the floor and with one fell swoop, I cradle him in my arms, forever reversing the story of the old fabled tale.

It turns out the Mafia princess—the damsel in distress—can
rescue
the knight after all…

***

BISHOP

I wake up to a new morning… and with hands on me too gentle to be Delaney’s.

Something cold and wet touches my face, swiping across my brow, and I flinch as cold water runs down my cheek.

I open my eyes to find something much warmer replacing it.

Dani
.

As gorgeous as ever. As regal as ever.

As
angry
as ever.

Her hair half-wet and wavy, her turquoise-colored eyes blazing, she glares down at me with a look mixed with concern and acrimony.

Now fully clothed, she is every bit as appealing as she was when she was stripped of every single stitch of fabric. Naked and proud, clothed, concerned, or downright indignant, she is the only thing my spirit searches for.

No amount of money, no FBI badge, or “Crow” title can alter what Dani has ultimately done to my soul.

And yes… I
was
a liar.

Not about my mission to take down Don Gafanelli. Not about being
the Crow
.

Not even about being in the FBI, no.

I had lied to her, had lied to myself about giving her “everything.”

I hadn’t.

I’d given her my body because that part was easy, but my soul had long been dead.

It had been
eaten
by hatred, a deeply rooted resentment for the man who killed my parents, and as karma would have it… that
same
man’s daughter is the one who brought me back to life.

Daniela was the
light
. She was the flame, the spark that had ignited my spirit again.

What an ironic world.

The man with
too
many identities fell for the beautiful woman with none.

We have forever changed each other… and I know a piece of me will seek her wherever she goes.

It has already sought her here… notwithstanding the fact that my mind was stuck in an unforgiving bind and my body alone—battered, bruised and bullet-ridden—wasn’t strong enough to endure the journey.

She traces a petite hand, warm and sweet-smelling, from my face down to my battered body. I flinch at her touch, feeling surprised when it doesn’t hurt me, feeling shocked when I find myself sinking into it.

I lay my head back down onto her bed.

“You let me stay the night.”

She ignores me.

“You’re burning up,” she says softly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I wince. “Something I
should
have done
before.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

I cough. “And where else would I be?”

“In the hospital. With the FBI. In the morgue.” She throws a cold look at my face before reaching up, placing a cold wet rag across my forehead once more.

“Which of those would you rather I end up?”

“
Take your pick
,” she replies coldly. “You can do whatever you want. Ride off into the sunset with Delaney for all I care. I
know
he’s waiting for me to lead him to the rest of my family.”

“I think so, too.”

I can tell my answer shocks her. Her pretty mouth forms into an enticing “O” before shutting completely. I shut my eyes… just to stop thinking about that pretty mouth and all its pretty “O’s.”

I finish my answer.

“I
had
to be here.”

I feel the wipes of Dani’s cold compress begin to slow down.

“Why?” she asks.

“Because Delaney
will
be here. He’s a goddamned hard-ass and the most relentless piece of shit on the planet. I should know…”

I wince with my eyes still clenched shut.

“He taught me every thing I know.”

I open my eyes.

“I need to talk to you. Something is happening…”

“Oh, now you want to talk…?” The comment is sarcastic, but there’s a scathing contempt underneath that cuts me to the quick. Dani dips the white rag back into a bowl of ice-water.

She places the rag back on my neck and head.

I know she’s referring to the FBI, to me, to my lies. I’d be shocked if she didn’t try to suffocate me with the rag before all was said and done.

I’m still surprised that she took me in so readily.

This could be a trap… like before.

I stare at her face.

“Yes,” I answer at last. “You need to know what you’re dealing with.
Everything
… that you’re dealing with. I’m sorry that you were in the dark before…”

I groan, grabbing for my shoulder.

Suddenly, Dani stands, throwing the washcloth on the nightstand. She crosses her arms under ample breasts and leaves them planted there.

They form a line between us, an unspoken boundary that states “Do Not Cross,” leaving no confusion.

She holds her arms high, and I prepare myself for another fight.

I am honestly too weak to amount to half of
shit
… and if I die, at least it’ll be at the hands of Dani and not bleeding in the middle of some Spanish hospital with Delaney lecturing me to death.

I’ll take the former any day.

I wait for her reply.

“You wanna know what being in the dark is? It’s walking around with blinders on, running into every obstacle in your path without any escape in sight. You don’t know what’s coming at you or when. Your back is pushed against the wall and everything is dangerous.”

She glares.

“Moving is dangerous. Staying still is dangerous. Taking a step is dangerous. You’re so afraid, so fucking terrified that something will come shooting at you from the dark. Because you’re defenseless. You’re exposed. You’re rendered completely and utterly fucking helpless…”

She lets the statement linger.

“Now imagine it’s someone you love who is holding the light switch.”

With the dropping of that little bomb, she turns towards the bathroom. Back in a pair of jean shorts and t-shirt, she saunters to the open doorway.

I stop her before she can go inside with my weakened voice. I hate hearing the fucking pain that’s in its tone.

“Wait…” I grit my teeth. “What do you need from me?”

She looks at me, her eyes full of contemplation and contempt. I watch a light bulb spark inside her mind.