Midnight Alias: A Killer Instincts Novel (30 page)

“
I
asked
you
to help me, which means I can’t expect you to do all the work and take all the risks.”

“This morning it was about helping you,” Luke agreed, “but now it’s about doing my job. Even if you begged me at the last second to call it off, I wouldn’t be able to. We’ve been ordered to intercept that shipment and that’s what we’re gonna do.” His voice grew soft. “When it’s over, I’m still helping you start a new life. You lived up to your end of the bargain by getting us that address, and I won’t renege on that promise, darlin’.”

“I know, but I still want to help,” she said firmly.

When Luke’s brows drew together in a frown, she decided to put an end to this bickering, and breezed toward the door. “By the way, I’m having dinner with Vince in an hour.”

He bounded across the room to intercept her. “No way,” he said in a deadly tone.

She should’ve known Luke wouldn’t understand why she wanted to be involved in this mission. Why she
needed
to be involved. It wasn’t just about stopping Vince, or punishing him for killing Cora and leaving an innocent girl motherless. It was about not owing something to another man. Luke might claim this wasn’t about her, but she was the one who’d tipped him off to that shipment in the first place, and if she could offer something of value to the mission, then she was damn well going to.

Setting her jaw, she met his unhappy expression and said, “Yes, way.” And then she gave him a little shove and peeked out into the hallway, which was empty.

“Shower?” she asked sweetly, glancing at Luke over her shoulder.

She had to give him credit—he didn’t make a sound as he followed her to the bathroom. It was like sharing space with a ghost. But Olivia could tell he was furious. His facial muscles twitched and his eyes burned with frustration as she closed the door and started the shower.

“You got what you wanted,” he said, keeping his voice to a low pitch. “We’re going to nail Angelo. You don’t need to be involved in this.”

“Yes, I do.” She whipped her T-shirt over her head, then wiggled out of her panties.

The air in the bathroom suddenly got thick. Luke groaned softly, his gaze devouring her naked body. “You don’t play fair. This is the second time you’ve tried to distract me with your hot nakedness.”

“It worked last time.” She raised her eyebrows when she noticed the hard ridge beneath his cargo pants. “And I’m pretty sure it’s going to work now.”

She stepped into the shower and moved under the spray. From the corner of her eye she saw Luke stripping in a hurry. A moment later, his muscular body dominated the small space and his strong arms wrapped around her from behind. She let out a low moan when he cupped her breasts.

Had he been born with the knowledge of how to drive a woman wild, or had his expertise been honed during years of practice? She was afraid to ask, but she couldn’t deny that Luke Dubois was spectacular in bed. Or, in shower.

As steam filled the bathroom, he teased her into oblivion, squeezing her breasts, playing with her nipples, and when he spun her around and sank to his knees in front of her, the teasing became torture.

Olivia gasped as his mouth found her core. He licked the insides of her thighs, then dragged his tongue over her damp folds. Her knees buckled, but he steadied her by gripping her hip with one hand and backing her into the tiled wall. Luke tugged on her left ankle and brought her leg up to his shoulder. He proceeded to ravish her with his tongue, knowing exactly how much pressure to exert, when to back off and lick her slowly, when to wrap his lips around her clit and suck hard. When she cried out in delight, he lifted his head, his features displaying the smug look of a man who was pleasing his woman and knew it. Then he resumed his ministrations, until she was gasping for air and shamelessly thrusting her hips into his face.

Seconds away from exploding, she squeezed her eyes shut and welcomed the rush of pleasure, but suddenly he wrenched his mouth away and stumbled to his feet. The water from the spray poured over him, droplets gathering on his glistening chest, working their way over the line of hair tapering down to his navel.

His gorgeous face was strained as he stood there, keeping a good foot of distance between them. “No condom,” he said in a tortured voice.

“I’m on the pill.” Her voice sounded breathy to her own ears. She couldn’t even believe she was considering forgoing protection. She was normally far more sensible, but the pressure between her legs was so intense she feared she might die if he didn’t get inside her. Now.

“And no diseases,” she added awkwardly.

“I’m clean too,” he said.

They eyed each other for a moment. The stall had filled with steam, and Olivia felt like she was watching him through a haze. She got the feeling he didn’t like going unprotected either, which was confirmed when he murmured, “I’ll pull out. The pill’s not a hundred percent effective.”

The matter-of-fact statistic brought a tug of irritation, especially when she realized he probably hadn’t picked up the knowledge by Googling
birth control pills
. Oh no. This was a man who had sex often. Unlike her. She only got it on every other year or so.

At the thought of Luke with another woman, her irritation was transformed into a crazy rush of possessiveness. She yanked on the back of his head to bring him down for a kiss. As their tongues tangled, Luke groaned, then whirled her around like a man possessed. She purred at the feel of his erection nudging her bottom. Bracing her hands on the wall, she closed her eyes and waited, anticipation coiling in her belly. His fingers circled her waist. His lips brushed over the nape of her neck. That tempting erection slid over the crease of her ass. God, she needed him inside her. She needed—

A mind-shattering orgasm seized her body as he drove in deep.

Biting her lip, Olivia closed her eyes and let the pleasure consume her, trying to stay silent even though she wanted to announce the climax to the world. Luke plunged into her with long, smooth strokes, groaning quietly, the husky sounds getting lost in the rush of the shower spray. When she felt him pulsating inside her, she pushed her ass into his groin, taking him in deeper. His pace quickened, his fingers dug into her hips, and then he mumbled an anguished curse and withdrew. Trembling from his release, he rested his chin on her shoulder, his breath coming out in hot puffs against her bare skin.

When they both grew still, Olivia turned to wrap her arms around his neck. She stood on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss over his mouth, then reached for the bottle of body wash on the shelf. After she’d squirted the liquid soap into a bright pink pouf, she slowly met his eyes, which were no longer glazed with passion but heavy with resignation.

“You’re still planning on seeing Vince tonight.”

She nodded. “I have to. Please don’t try to stop me.”

He inched closer, resting his forehead against hers, his broad chest heaving as he released a ragged breath. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You’re going to let me be a part of this,” she said firmly. “I
have
to be a part of this. For Cora. And for myself.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

The water was running cold, but that wasn’t the cause for the goose bumps rising on her flesh. Luke sounded so tormented, and his arms had tightened around her as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. The pouf dropped from her hands and fell onto the floor of the shower. She didn’t bother picking it up—she simply let Luke hold her because she knew it was what he needed. What she needed too.

“I already got hurt,” she whispered. “Now it’s my turn to hurt him. Please, let me do this.”

“You’re not going alone,” he said sternly.

“We’ll be in a restaurant. You can’t come in with me.”

“Then I’ll wait outside.” His eyes were fierce. “And if that bastard so much as looks at you the wrong way, I’m going to storm that fucking restaurant and rip his heart out.”

And she got the feeling he meant it.

* * *

An hour later, Olivia parked the Beemer in front of the Bistro Alessio. As she hopped out to feed the meter, it suddenly occurred to her that Vince might not even be there. Truth was, she’d lied to Luke. She and Vince didn’t have a dinner date per se, but after six months of “dating,” she knew his schedule fairly well. On weeknights he had his dinners delivered to the club, but on Sundays he preferred Italian. He always left the club and went to Bistro Alessio, a low-key but expensive restaurant in Little Italy. He’d never once asked Olivia to join him, claiming he preferred to dine solo on Sundays, but she didn’t think he’d mind if she showed up and surprised him. His ego would probably appreciate the gesture.

Unless . . . what if he’d lied about his solitary dining habits and was actually meeting his mobster friends every Sunday? The thought gave her pause, but she forced her legs to carry her to the door. If he did have company tonight then she’d just play it cool. Give him a kiss on the cheek, and tell him she’d see him when she came back to work in a couple of days.

Outside the restaurant, she smoothed her hair and gave her appearance a quick once-over. She’d worn a black scoop-neck dress paired with a brown suede jacket, nothing too fancy but nice enough for a cozy dinner. As she stood there, she resisted glancing over her shoulder to see if she could spot Luke. He’d been following her in a black SUV, but she didn’t see it parked on the street. He had to be nearby, though.

She knew he wasn’t happy about her coming here tonight, but she’d meant what she’d said back at the apartment. She wanted to pull her weight, and she refused to be shut out. Luke could still dig around for information about the shipment, but if she could get that same info out of Vince, and get it tonight? Why let that opportunity slip away?

When she strode into the bistro a moment later, the olive-skinned brunette at the hostess stand greeted her with a smile. “Reservation?” the young woman asked.

“Actually, I’m meeting someone,” Olivia lied. “Vince Angelo?”

“Of course. You’ll find him at his usual table in the back. Would you like me to escort you?”

“No thanks, I can find it myself.”

She brushed past the hostess and entered the main room, letting her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The space was cozy and attractive, boasting red velvet wall drapes, small tables with crisp white tablecloths, and servers in black-and-white uniforms. Soft piano music floated through the room, and most of the patrons were either couples or men dining alone. It was a classy place, giving off a romantic air that made her wonder why Vince chose to come here by himself every week.

Olivia finally spotted Vince at a table nestled behind a tall marble planter filled with red flowers. He was sipping a glass of white wine, a troubled expression on his face.

He looked up in surprise at her approach.

“Olivia?” His eyebrows knitted together in a frown. “What are you doing here?”

She pasted on a smile. “Surprising you. I know you come here on Sundays, and I thought we could have dinner together.”

His dark eyes slitted with suspicion. “What about your mother?”

“She’s sleeping. The medication makes her drowsy.” She gestured to the empty chair opposite his. “May I join you?”

As he nodded, she slipped out of her jacket and draped it on the back of the chair, then sat down and met his gaze across the table. “You don’t look very happy to see me.” She pouted a little.

His cloudy expression dissolved. “I am. Of course I am, babe. You just caught me off guard.”

“I know you prefer to be alone on Sunday evenings,” she told him. “But I really needed to get out of the house.”

“Is your mother feeling any better?”

“She is. Actually, I think she’s well enough for me to come in to work tomorrow.”

A waiter approached the table. He placed an empty glass in front of Olivia, picked up the wine bottle from the center of the table, and poured for her. When he finished, he turned to Vince. “Would you like the usual, Mr. Angelo?”

Vince nodded. “Yes, Dante. Thank you.”

“And you, madam? Are you ready to order?”

Since she’d already eaten an early dinner with her mom, she had zero appetite. But she didn’t want to make Vince suspicious, so she quickly picked up the menu, scanned it, and ordered a Caesar salad.

“Everyone knows you here,” she remarked as the waiter disappeared.

Vince nodded absently. There was something off about him tonight. Something incredibly disconcerting.

“Why do you come here so often?” she asked softly.

He fingered the stem of his wineglass, and a faraway expression settled on his face. “Did I ever tell you about my parents?”

She shook her head.

“No, I don’t imagine I did. They were garbage, both of them.” He gestured to the swinging doors leading to the kitchen off to their left. “My mother worked here when I was growing up. She washed dishes in the back.”

“Oh” was all Olivia said, because she couldn’t think of anything else.

“My father went to the track every Sunday and since they couldn’t afford a babysitter, my mother would bring me to work with her.” He frowned. “I’d sit in the kitchen, watching her scrape the crap off the dishes, her hands getting all red and cracked from the hot water and that industrial soap she used.”

“She must have worked very hard,” Olivia said quietly.

“Not hard enough.”

“Did your parents ever . . . mistreat you?” she had to ask.

“Nah. They loved me.” He snorted. “Raised me in squalor—that’s love, huh?” His brown eyes blazed. “We never had enough money, and whatever we did have, my son of a bitch father blew on the ponies. Meanwhile, my mother worked herself to the bone in this restaurant.” He swept a hand over the room. “Cleaning the dirty plates of the assholes who could afford to eat here.”

His bitterness polluted the air, and despite herself, she felt a flicker of sympathy. For his mother, that is. She knew all about working yourself to the bone.

“That’s why I come here,” Vince said. “To remind myself of where I came from,
who
I came from.” His expression became surly. “I eat here and then my dishes are taken away and someone else washes them just like my mother used to do. I come here for the reminder, Olivia.”