Into the Blackness (Blackness Series Book 4) (16 page)

Her arms enfold around my neck as I burrow my face into hers. I kiss her succulent skin and she dutifully giggles. I hate that sound as much as I love it.

“You look pretty delicious yourself, Nicky,” she says in a fake husky voice, blank hazel eyes meeting mine.

“I was right about the haircuts, wasn’t I?” Kat asks the boys moving away from my grasp. I take a calming breath before facing the group.

“You know you were. Quit askin’,” Cole teases.

The doorbell sounds, alerting us to the ladies’ arrival and I lead the parade to the front door. When I pull it open I remember this feeling, the excited nervousness that accompanies formal dances. The girls all look the part in short pretty dresses, none showing or covering too much.

I don’t pay much attention to the girls or their parents, preferring to keep my distance. I don’t know how many pictures are normally taken on nights like this, but I have the feeling we’re working on a world record.

The boys loosen up through the process, their usual jokes and banter making their dates giggle. Kat beams like a beacon within the group. Her smile should surely be causing her cheeks to cramp, but it never leaves her face. She’s happy and full of pride as the boys load into the limo with retina damage from flashes going off for an hour. Jake’s the last to fold into the car and I offer him a wink as he disappears with a two finger wave in return. He’ll keep everyone safe tonight. I have no worries. After the kids leave, Kat invites the other parents in the house for coffee, and I dutifully sit and converse with strangers about New England’s chances this season.

As always, I watch Kat out of the corner of my eye. She moves around the kitchen without effort, filling glasses and mugs, offering food and pleasant smiles as she goes. These people have no idea the dazzling performance they’re witnessing, which makes it even more impressive. Kat catches my gaze and blows me a big kiss before tipping her head back and laughing at something one of the women says. Why was it that I pushed Kat away?

I wanted her to feel powerful and in control. I didn’t want her to feel attacked by a horny man yet again on an op. If I’d had the balls to tell her that maybe I wouldn’t be watching her from afar right now, getting glimpses of what I’m missing. She’s sweet with the men here, a few of them lingering too long around her. But her kindness with them seems to have a limit that they all acknowledge. She’s a taken woman. My woman. If only that could be true.

She ran from me that day in the bathroom. While this self-imposed sentence is irritating, Kat constantly hiding behind her masks is infuriating. How am I supposed to open up to her, when she always shuts down on me? Kat uses her talents as craftily as I use weapons. I can’t take this where I want just to be another mark to her. That’s all I am at this point and it’s torture. If we started a physical relationship, I’d lose my mind. I don’t work like this.

I need her…all of her. Kat’s never shown me she’s capable of that. Before I met her, I wasn’t sure I was capable of that. I am now, with her. I won’t take anything less. I can live in this prison because it allows me the façade I’ve grown used to in the DCA. Anything beyond this has to be on my terms. All or nothing.

The evening with the other parents winds down after a few hours of coffee, wine and conversation. Kat and I usher the crowd to our door, promising to do this again soon. I hope not. When the door closes, leaving Kat and me alone, I feel it. The emptiness of our op settles like a heavy fog between us.

“I’m gonna head down to the gym,” I mutter as I climb the stairs.

She doesn’t respond. So I push.

“You can continue to be pissed at me, but I’d appreciate it if you’d respond when I speak to you,” I demand.

“I’m sorry, Nicky. Enjoy your workout. I’ll be in the family room reading,” she says in the appropriate tone and inflection, her eyes hauntingly devoid of the emotion her voice just offered.

I think the lack of speech was better. I nod in response and she floats away to read. I wonder if she reads books about men that sweep women off their feet in romantic overtures and is waiting for me to be that man. She’ll wait a lifetime if that’s the case. I’ll snoop around in her Kindle tomorrow just to see what I’m up against.

Dripping with sweat, I climb the stairs from the basement, well and truly exhausted. I went at it harder tonight than I have any other. My arms are like jelly and my mind can barely produce a coherent thought.

When I reach the kitchen, I find the space clean and empty. I silently glide into the family room to find Kat curled up in a ball in her favorite cream reading chair asleep. I make a snap decision to carry her to bed, knowing I could end up assaulted and unmanned. It’s worth the risk. I promised the first time we fought I’d be kind to her and I’m a man of my word.

I lift her with ease and pause for any indication she’s playing opossum. Her breathing continues to tickle my neck at the same rate and her soft body remains limp in my arms. I take measured steps so as not to disturb her. Climbing the stairs after my workout was one thing. Carrying another person is testing my reserves. I do it though. I’m happy to have her relaxed in my arms. If she’d give me this all the time, this could be our reality. I guess it’s not meant to be.

“Thank you, Nicky,” she murmurs as I slide her between our sheets.

“You’re welcome, Sunshine,” I mumble into her hair, placing a kiss there.

I pull back hoping to find warm inviting eyes, only to be hit with the serenity of her sleeping face. I hold onto the sweetness of her voice and imagine this is the life I deserve. If only for a little while, I bask in the glow of the fairy tale before I have to move back into the blackness of my reality. Alone.

The boys rode on the high of homecoming night right into a week later when Halloween came around. There was a big party at a guy’s house that all the boys and girls went to together. I was sure we’d end up getting drunk phone calls and having to set some real punishments and boundaries, but we didn’t get any calls or any drunk boys. They had a blast dressing up as some boy band that was a huge hit with all the ladies.

The surveillance is in place in the law firm and streaming to the DCA. So far nothing but a lot of boring ass shit is going on; I feel bad for our intel monitors having to watch it. I have to hope that it’ll shake something our way soon.

Tonight’s poker night and the boys are at some school play. Kat and I are currently eating a silent meal that she also prepared in silence. It’s been two and a half weeks since homecoming. Nothing’s changed and nothing’s gotten worse. We’re just going through the motions like we would on any other op. It’s depressing.

“I’ve got a late meeting tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the school for the game,” I inform Kat.

Jake made the basketball team easily and is gaining even more popularity because he’s in the starting lineup. Cole made the team too, but isn’t starting…yet. Sawyer and Dane are so proud of their friends. It’s refreshing to see teenagers supporting each other instead of fighting to see who can stab the next in the back the fastest.

“All right,” Kat responds in the appropriate inflection and timing with nothing in her eyes.

“I’m gonna head out. I’ll try not to be too late,” I say standing from the table.

“Enjoy your evening,” she says in the same tone that haunts me at this point. I’m sorry I ever asked for it.

I drop my head in defeat and go to the front door, with a few grand in my navy pea coat I move out into the cold night air.

Tony greets me at his door and ushers me down to the basement playing room where all the guys are setting up around the table. There’s a new guy that I don’t recognize, but think nothing of it.

“Nick, this is Phil Ganesly. He’s been out of the country on business since your family moved in,” Tony introduces the man.

He’s refined in a tailored three-piece suit with a Cuban hanging from his teeth. His hair is salt and pepper, heavier on the pepper. I’m guessing he’s close to fifty, but can pull off forty in a push. There’s something about his eyes that lets me know he may live in the affluent world now, but he doesn’t come from here. It’s like looking in a mirror fifteen years into my future.

“Phil, this is our new neighbor, Nick Johnson,” Tony finishes.

I slide my palm into his and respect the firm grip he offers. He holds my eyes for a moment before smiling around his cigar.

“Hear you’re beatin’ the pants off these boys every week,” he says in a deep gravelly voice.

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” I say through a chuckle retrieving my hand.

“Never do. I will tell you I’ve heard you’ve got yourself a looker for a wife,” he says with a brow raised.

“That you
can
believe.”

He lets out a loud bark of laughter before clapping me on the back.

“Make sure you hang onto that. Women in this town have a tendency to upgrade,” he informs me with a knowing look.

I notice a few mumbles from behind me and realize that some of these men must have been downgraded at some point. Maybelle is a cut-throat world in every facet.

“Thanks for the advice,” I respond through a smile before moving to the table.

The evening progresses normally with me kicking everyone’s ass, including Phil’s.

“You sure he’s not a professional player?” Phil asks after he loses yet another hand to me.

“I grew up playin’ a lot. You get good after a few decades,” I reply nonchalantly.

That’s a true statement. Growing up in a crime family, poker was a part of my life as long as I can remember. I’m good, really fucking good. I take it easy on these guys most of the time. They all have horrible tells and no strategy. I think they like losing their money.

“How long you been in security?” Phil asks as Tony deals another hand.

“Since college, about eleven years.”

I peek down at my hand. Pocket kings. I’m not even going to have to pay attention this game.

“How’d you get into that?” Tony asks. This is the most these guys have asked about my past making me somewhat wary and very excited.

“It was my father’s business. When he retired I took over and expanded it beyond the Midwest.”

“Expanded your bank account too,” Phil scoffs before throwing back two fingers of whiskey. His sixth by my count.

“That was the intended goal,” I say through a sly smile.

“Get your woman before you got your money?” he asks slightly slurred.

“Met Kat in college.”

“That’s good, she’ll be less likely to upgrade.”

I don’t respond because I’m not liking the direction of the conversation. I push all my chips to the middle of the table and win the hand because they all fold. Pussies.

I need to get a bug in this house, but the only room I’ve ever been in is this one and I doubt they’re doing business down here. Slow and steady wins the race. It’s killing me.

“Why don’t you come by my office next week? I could use some added security,” Phil suggests nonchalantly.

“Sure. I’ve got some availability on Tuesday if that works for you. Here’s my card. Give me a call.”

Supposedly, Phil’s in marketing and advertising. I’m not sure why he needs more than basic security, but I’m willing to check out everyone that spends time with the Bookers.

“Will do,” Phil says, placing my card in his inner jacket pocket.

We play a few more hands before calling it a night. I’m up six grand, so I say the evening is glowing success with Phil being an added bonus. Progress.

Nick

I walk across the street and am surprised to find an Audi SUV in my driveway. Who the fuck is at my house at midnight? I pick up my pace and enter my front door to be knocked in the face with the full belly laughter of Kat along with that of a man. Not one of the boys, a man.

I remove my coat and head in the direction of the jubilation, which is coming from the kitchen area. I enter the room and find it empty, but hear more chuckles coming from the family room. The sight that my eyes find makes my stomach drop.

Kat is sitting on the couch with her back to me, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun still dressed in her skin tight pants with a black sweater that even though I can’t see, I know has a low-hanging cleavage-revealing neck-line.