For Logan (Chicago Syndicate Book 5) (7 page)

He tilts his head to the side and lets his eyes rove down the curves of my body and back up before he arcs a brow.

Then I grasp the innuendo in his statement: sex. Of course. A man’s answer.

I truly don’t understand who he is. With every second that ticks by, I’m heating under his scrutiny while he’s unaffected.

I’m never doing coke again; it makes me too horny. I can’t exactly say what it is about Logan, yet I can’t deny that I’m irrevocably drawn to him. I guess I’m not immune to the infamous
Logan charm
.

Logan

––––––––

I
sit as motionless as possible while struggling to concentrate on Rosa’s face. Jesus Christ, I can see everything through that flimsy material of her dress as she’s perched on the mattress under the spotlights.

Focus on the eyes.

No, not that pair of eyes.

I look up from her chest – I’m a man who thinks with his dick first. Not that complex.

Of course, I had to retrieve her from that party because some Ukrainians we still need to capture were spotted in the same area. If she gets a scratch on her, I’ll have failed the Syndicate’s test. Henry’s tracking her phone, and he told me she’d left the Loop.

However, she’s becoming quite the distraction, filling me with a new set of emotions. While I’m furious she used drugs – I’ve lost too much due to coke, and I’ve seen what it can do to a person – I can’t reprimand her and am undeniably derailed by her appearance. Normal Rosa talks a lot, but coked-up Rosa is loud enough to burst both of my eardrums. Although I’m having a hard time absorbing her words when her rosy and firm nipples are staring right at me. And I can also make out the contours of her provocative hips and long, smooth legs. It’s arousing that she’s unaware of the havoc she’s wreaking. My slacks are getting constricted. Inconspicuously, I shift in my seat.

I’m disclosing much more about myself than I ever have with anyone else, even mentioning Jenny.

This. Is. Not. Good.

Rosa’s twenty-one, still in college, and so damn innocuously reckless. Besides, she’s James’s daughter. I’m a man who takes what he wants the second he realizes he wants it, but she’s not someone I can take that risk with. I reject the immediate pleasure of the woman I’m lusting after.

“Like what?” she repeats.

I gawk at her in reply, letting the insinuation linger. She licks her lips in a gentle manner, so I steer the discussion back on course.

“I won’t tell anyone I found you high if you promise not to use again.” This evens the score. Rosa knows my true name; I know about her secret coke use.

She leans one palm beside her hip and crosses one leg over the other seductively.

For the love of God, she’s so unintentionally sexy. Or is she? She’s evaluating me as well.

“Fine. I promise,” she agrees.

Something tells me she’s just pacifying me to avoid an argument. Nonetheless, I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt, needing her to go to sleep before I snap and kiss her senseless in that sheer dress that’s messing with my thoughts.

Leisurely, she traces her toe over the lines in the hardwood floor. With that movement, a few of the decorative turquoise pillows drop to the floor. She rises and bends to pick them up as my gaze rakes over her spine.

God, how would it be to trace my tongue down her curving back, finding her silky warmth? To grip her hair while I thrust inside her from behind, fast and furious—

“I should go,” I grind out and surge up. I should get a fucking medal for walking away from this sweet temptation.

She smiles shyly at me over her shoulder and tosses the items smoothly onto the bench at the foot of the bed, and I’m starting to believe this girl is intentionally fucking with my mind. Her bed is looking too inviting, immaculate with white sheets. So virginal.
Way
too inviting.

Walk away, Logan.

“Something tells me I’ll see you soon,” she pipes in.

Is she referring to this sensual game or the fact that she’s onto me following her? Either way, I need to keep control of this situation, so I reach for the door.

With my hand on the handle, I say, “Goodnight, Rosa. FYI, I can see through your dress.”

Her cat-tipped eyes round, and then she peers down her body. “What!”

She meets my smirk and grabs a pillow, flinging it toward my head, but I duck swiftly.

“You could’ve mentioned that a little sooner!” she points out.

“Where’s the fun in that?” I reply and add, “I’m guessing you’re a full C cup...”

Her mouth flattens and she dives down to snatch another pillow. Rapidly, I slide open the glass door and step out, skating it closed just as the cushion hits the glass, and with a wide smile, I mock salute her while she’s angrily grinning back.

Rounding the corner, I blow out a harsh sigh and let my blood flow back up north, though I can’t resist stealing one more glance as she gracefully topples back onto her mattress, propping one foot on the edge.

Then I take off before making a foolish choice and drive to my grandmother’s private nursing home in the West Loop where I come upon another problem. The home I’ve moved Nana to is costing me a fortune, and I’m informed that the next payment shouldn’t be late again. My funds are limited since I make shit money as a CIA agent and have to live off the sporadic Syndicate payments. The need to pledge in soon increases.

I enter my grandmother’s room, decorated in brown colors. She’s awake, lying in bed and watching TV, but appears fragile with her grey-white hair tied up into a bun. She isn’t eating well and has been losing weight – old age is creeping up on her. She mutes the TV as I approach her slowly, not knowing if she’ll remember me since she’s been diagnosed with the middle stage of Alzheimer’s disease. Oftentimes, she has trouble recalling events or names, and she can be moody and withdrawn. Fortunately, not today.

“Logan,” she greets in an endearing tone that centers me. “I was hoping you’d come by.”

I visit her as often as I can, even if it’s just for a few minutes. Nana is the only constant in my life. The only parent and family I have. I never knew my father, and my mother abandoned Jenny and me when I was three. Several years later, Nana learned that she was arrested for a robbery and died in prison.

“Hey, Nana. I was delayed.” I would’ve been here earlier if not for Rosa. Kissing her forehead, I fish out a hazelnut chocolate bar from my back pocket and show it to her. “Don’t tell the nurses I got you this.”

“You always know what to bring me.” She takes my hand in hers and squeezes weakly before unfolding the wrapper and breaking off a chunk of chocolate. “Do you want some?”

“No, thanks. It’s all for you.”

“You look tired. Is everything all right?” she asks after chewing the piece.

“Yes, it was just a busy day,” I assure her.

“You should go home, sleep,” she advises.

“I think I’ll do that. I wanted to drop by and see you first.”

Her palm cradles my cheek affectionately. “Have I told you how I love it that you always visit?”

No, she hasn’t. This is the first time in weeks that she’s been herself. “Yeah,” I lie to make her feel better. “But it’s selfish. I like it too.”

“Silly boy. You’re anything but selfish. You’ll see that someday.”

“Maybe someday.” I press another kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight.”

“Night. I love you,” she comments as I clear out of the room to head to my apartment.

Until I’m home and lying in bed, Rosa keeps occupying my mind. I’ll protect her for the next couple of weeks while we dismantle the Ukrainian sex club and locate Dimitri and Mykhail. James guaranteed me that she hasn’t had any contact with Mykhail, so I haven’t asked her about it myself. It seems that she just wants to continue her life as it was. She’s a party girl.

But there’s more to her.

Shaking my head, I roll to my side. Yet Rosa wearing that thin dress is my last thought before sleep pulls at me. Evidently, bottled-up lust is an irrepressible emotion.

***

T
he next morning, I’m resolved to find Dimitri and Mykhail Medlov. The Syndicate is keeping me apprised of more mafia business – I’ve got one foot in the door and won’t let some desirous feelings for Rosa get in my way. As I’m getting out of the shower, my phone chimes in.

Henry: I might have a lead on Dimitri or Mykhail’s whereabouts. I’ve found an encrypted document with addresses of various Ukrainian safe places, I think; but I’m having trouble decrypting it. Maybe you can take a look? Or you can run it through CIA software to decode it for us?

This is good news. I decide to visit the CIA tech department to steal a new program they’re testing. It’s the latest decoding software, and Henry has taught me how to make a copy of it without the CIA technicians finding out.

Eventually, I arrive at Club 7 at eight p.m. to meet Henry, who said he’d be working in Adriano’s office on the second floor of the immense dance club that’s just opened its doors for the night. Lounge music is booming from the speakers, but it’s not crowded yet.

Apparently, Henry’s taking a break since he’s on the first floor, speaking to James and Luca as they pass him before ascending the black stairway at the far end of the club.

I make my way over to him, while he drinks a beer, and hold up the disc. “Henry, I’ve got it.”

“Perfect.” He adjusts his black-rimmed glasses and snatches it from me. “We can check it after I finish my drink. Want one too?”

“Sure.”

He flirts with a passing waitress, and she’s visibly enamored with Henry’s preppy style and the tattoos on both of his forearms, but she gives me a coy look too.

Oh, no. You’re way too young for me.

Henry smirks at her. “Can I have another beer for Wade here, babe?”

“Sure, Henry.”

He stores the disc in the back pocket of his slacks while gawking at her ass.

“Henry?” I repeat sarcastically. “You’re already on first name basis with the waitresses here? I’m impressed, man. But I think you’ll have trouble holding that one’s attention.”

He grins. “Even better. I don’t require her attention for long.” Dryly, he adds, “Although this one seemed to be a little distracted by you.”

I laugh as he takes a swig of his beer and scans the room. “Did you...” But he trails off as he looks over my shoulder and states, intrigued, “Well, who’s that with Fallon?” He points the top of his beer bottle behind me toward the bar. “You know her?”

Turning around, I’m confronted with the one person who keeps being thrust into my path, and it seems like she’s here more often lately. Rosa’s in tight, dark jeans and a scarlet top with several thin gold necklaces hanging around her neck. On her shirt, across her best feature – her cleavage – is written
don’t touch,
as if it’s directed at me.

Both Henry and I are captivated by her antics. She’s showing several people that are standing around her a dollar bill, which she pulls tight in her hands and holds up on display. Then she brings a cigarette lighter to the corner of it to light it on fire and shakes it out to extinguish the flame, presenting an unburned piece of paper. Well, isn’t Rosa just full of surprises. A few guys applaud her as she beams mischievously. She’s enthralling to watch, and there’s an alluring elegance to her movements.

“Do you know who she is?” Henry asks again.

I keep my sight on her. “You never met Rosa?”

“No.”

“Count yourself lucky,” I mutter while lustful images of her in that thin dress are etched into my mind.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I mumble. Thankfully, the waitress returns with the cold beer. I gulp it down to cool the fuck off. I’ve just been too busy with work and not enough play.

“So, who is she?” Henry persists.

“Rosalia Calderone, James’s daughter.”

“Ah...” he trails off while his stare is riveted on her. “Your lovely assignment. She’s beautiful.”

I grit my teeth but remain quiet. Then Rosa catches Henry’s gaze, and he smiles widely at her – she returns the favor.

Fallon says something to Rosa and her eyes widen a touch, as if she’s discovered interesting information. Nonchalantly, I take another swig of my beer, even though I’m irritated. I see the corner of her mouth twitch, and she expertly disregards me.

When Henry walks over in her direction, I join him, setting my beer on the bar counter next to Rosa and standing between Henry and her. As always, her smile fades when she realizes she can’t get around me. She’s talking to Fallon and another friend, and I overhear them, regrettably.

The friend whispers to Fallon and Rosa, “He’s so handsome,” as she peeks at Henry.

And Rosa utters to Fallon, “He
is
very good-looking.”

Christ, does everyone have to notice how handsome Henry is?

Leaning back with one elbow on the bar, I snatch the bill from her hand to inspect the perfectly unburned paper. “How did you do that?”

They all turn to me, and Rosa remarks mockingly, “Hey, Wade. Nice to see you—and yes, I mean it,” she adds when I open my mouth.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But I can see what you’re thinking by your annoying little smirk.”

“Little?” I echo, amused. “Nothing of mine has ever been called little...”

She sends me a bland stare, and I cock my head conceitedly.

Lifting a knowing brow, I show my teeth. “Nice to see me? That’s a first.”

“I was just going for the socially acceptable greeting. Clearly, your social skills need some fine-tuning.”

I chuckle. “Clearly. So, how did you do this?”

Before she can answer, we’re interrupted by Henry extending his arm to Rosa. “Hey, I’m Henry, by the way.”

Rosa accepts his offered hand and tells me, “See, lacking social skills.” Then she addresses Henry, “Hi, I’m Rosalia.”

I straighten, and since I was leaning back against the bar between these two, they’re forced to release hands. From the corner of my eye, I see Fallon observing Rosa and me with an inquisitive expression.

Rosa steals the bill back from my fingers. “It’s quite simple.” And she brings it up to my nose. “Smell it.”

I rear backward, suspicious, but she hovers it in front of my face. “Just smell it.”