Hard Up: A Military Mafia Romance (9 page)

C
allum couldn’t get
his mind straight, not when he was thinking about Viola.

One part of him wanted to believe everything she said, word for word. She’d been at the house, the house had been hit by robbers, end of story.

A glance at her tearstained face had been all he’d needed to want to kill the robbers, burn their houses down to boot.

But there was this part of him, this part he hated, a part that said he needed to wait. He had this dark part of his soul that thought, but what if… and that part wasn’t always terribly wrong.

The robbers had known too much for it to all be random. Where the house was, the location of the cocaine, the fact that they should visit at night…

And she was the easiest target, the closest at hand.

It made sense, right?

Right?

He left the safe house in a hurry, his mind jumping from one thing to the next. He should be checking the other safe houses, seeing what employees were at hand and who was down for the count, trying to figure out why the fuck this had happened.

He pulled out his phone and dialed, pointing his car in the direction of one of the safe houses.

“Yeah?” Dec answered.

“The safe house on Girard St. just got robbed.”

Declan was quiet for a second. “Is Viola all right?”

“Yeah, I think so. I’m going to send a guard over to the motel where I’m stashing her, just in case.”

“What, in case someone breaks in? Or in case she runs?”

“Either.”

Another pause. “Jesus, Callum. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Everything I can.”

“…alright. How can I help?”

After a few minutes of discussing the game plan with his friend, Callum hung up. He had a lot to do tonight, and a lot of houses to check.

He hoped Viola wouldn’t do anything foolish, like wait up…

T
he next day
, Callum returned to the motel with the intention of straightening things out. One of the guys hadn’t shown up for his shift, and Viola hadn’t done anything stupid, so…

Things were looking up for her, in his book.

He gave the guard outside her door a nod to leave and let himself in.

She was in a chair by the window, looking beautiful but bleak. She barely looked up at him when he came in, didn’t say anything about the fact that he’d slept and showered elsewhere.

“Why am I still here?” she asked, looking out the window. It didn’t look out onto much, just some trees.

“Because this place is safe,” he sighed, sitting in the other chair.

“No. Why am I here at all?” she asked. “Surely it would have been easier for you to just… let me go? If you weren’t going to kill me, you could’ve let me go.”

She was monotone, as if bored. Or reliving a sad time in her life, perhaps.

His heart twisted in his chest.

“Maybe at the beginning, it would have been easier,” he said. “Now… who knows?”

Viola turned to look at him, emotion shimmering wetly in her ocean blue eyes.

“You won’t keep me here, like this. I know what it is to be kept, you know. My whole childhood, I was kept. I won’t sit on the shelf until you’re ready to…”

“Whoa, whoa. Nobody is keeping you,” he said, reaching out for her hand.

She pinned him with that electrifying blue gaze.

“No?”

A part of him squirmed at the thought. Wasn’t he doing just that?

“Listen. You want to go outside, want to go somewhere? Let’s go.”

“Just like that?” she asked skeptically.

“Just like that. We’ll go someplace nice, The Cove or something.”

“Yeah, I can’t do that. You took my suitcase, which means you took my money. And my books.”

“It’s on me. Besides, you have to let me buy you some new clothes, because you have nothing to wear.”

“Or you can give me my suitcase back now,” she said with a frown.

“Nah. Come on, it’ll be more fun this way.”

He smiled, and after a few seconds she gave in. “Okay.”

She let him hustle her out to the car, and soon they were headed to The Cove. The Cove was a huge collection of designer stores, and it was tucked away thirty minutes from the city.

Where would be better to hide than a huge cluster of department stores? He should’ve thought of it sooner.

They were quiet on the way out, him thinking of scenarios they should avoid, and her…

He glanced at her, staring out the window in contemplation. He might not know what she was thinking, but he knew it was bad. It had to be, the way she refused to look at him.

Determination filled him, that today would change her mind.

She’d see, he could be… well, if not fun, then entertaining.

They pulled into the main lot at the center of the circle of stores and parked. He reached into the backseat and produced sunglasses and a ball cap for her, then a similar pair of accessories for himself.

“What?” he said, in response to her stare. “It’s a good look.”

“Nothing,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Nothing at all weird about two people in ball caps and sunglasses.”

Still, she pulled hers on without a fight.

“Alright,” he said, motioning to the stores. “Where should we start? Left or right?”

Viola pursed her lips. “Left looks more expensive.”

“Left it is.”

“That’s not what I meant—” she started as he pulled her to the left.

“Just go with it.”

They hit several stores, with Viola buying very little. Everything she did end up with was because Callum thought it would look good on her, and charged the salesperson with ringing it up.

Viola spotted a bookstore, and he could tell from her face that she was thrilled. She was entranced by the books, looking reverently at them.

“Pathophysiology: The Biologic Basis for Diseases in Adults and Children. This is really what you want?”

She bit her lip. “To start with.”

“Well, shop away. Don’t worry about the cost.”

The look on her face was priceless. When they left the bookstore, they had several textbooks that looked like an absolute bore to Callum, plus one ‘beach reading’ type of romance novel. Callum had insisted on the latter, in case she wanted to read something
saucier
.

They kept walking, until they passed by a French lingerie store, and Callum winked at her.

“Time to buy unmentionables.”

“Wait—”

He was already pushing her inside the boutique, with burlesque feather fans hanging from practically every surface. The whole store smelled faintly of lavender.

“Good God,” she breathed. “This place is ridiculous.”

Callum stopped, then looked at her. “Scared?”

She laughed. “I haven’t fallen for that since grade school.”

“No?” he said. He turned to the plump-looking gent who came looking to help, ingratiating smile on his face. Callum held up his Amex Black Card between two fingers, and the salesclerk’s smile grew wider at the sight. “Can you help her find her size? I’d just like to sit and watch.”

“No, I don’t need—” she protested, only to be dragged away by the salesman.

“I’m Chastain. Don’t worry about a thing, doll,” he said, pointing out a bench where Callum should wait. They disappeared back into a dressing room nearby.

Callum sat. He heard murmurs of quite a bit of bickering, but in the end Viola came out in lingerie… and what he saw took his breath away.

She wore an ivory silk teddy, showing off her cleavage and legs to devastating effect. He stood up, softly stunned by her looks; she gave him an eye roll.

“He made me come out here,” she said, motioning to her outfit. “This had the most fabric.”

“You look… incredible,” he managed.

“Yeah? It’s not a flop, huh?” she teased.

Callum moved toward her like a panther stalking its prey. She took a step back, losing the smile on her face as he closed in.

He kissed her hard, feeding all the hunger he’d felt into the kiss. There was nothing tentative about it; his lips were brutal, savage.

And she opened for him. Fucking moaned into his mouth, her nails in his hair, fucking pushing herself against him like he was oxygen.

She gave and he took, eating it all up. Bent her backward right there in the shop, owning her,
possessing
her for all to see.

She was
his
, no doubt about it…

The clearing of a throat pulled him back to his senses. He looked over to find the salesclerk looking pleased with himself.

Viola immediately separated herself from him, moving across the room as if that would be enough to keep them apart. Her cheeks were two bright blooms of red.

“Does the lady want to try anything else on?” the salesclerk asked, smarmy as could be.

“Um, no,” she said. “Let’s just go wrap some things up.”

She avoided Callum’s gaze as she followed the salesclerk to the fitting room. With the clerk gone, at least Callum could adjust himself, try to gain a little comfort.

He still felt her kiss on his lips, burning like fire. And all he could think was…

He wanted
more
.

He wanted her writhing against him, begging for him, soaked for him. He wanted her under him, without the lingerie, and he wanted it
soon
. Damn what his brain was telling him, he was going to have her.

Callum passed his credit card off to the salesclerk, who was busily wrapping up several bags of items. He didn’t care about shopping anymore, now that she had kissed him; besides, they had grabbed enough stuff.

When she finally came out of the dressing room, she grabbed the bags and thanked Chastain. Without making eye contact, she zoomed out the door, leaving him in her dust.

When he got outside, she was smiling at him with the most fake saccharine look he’d ever seen.

“How does lunch sound?” she asked. “Or maybe you’d rather grab a burger while we drive?”

He stopped and looked at her, libido still raging. Did she not feel the same fire that he did, the hunger? She seemed to have forgotten the entire thing.

“What?” she challenged, staring him down.

To check her, he would have to say his thoughts out loud, put himself in the position of being the weak one.

Yeah, right
. If she wanted to play games, that was fine. He was the master of games, when it was about something like this.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “I was thinking Brocato’s for lunch. Pizza sound good?”

Her nostrils flared slightly, but he saw something unexpected in her eyes: relief.

Whatever game she was playing, it seemed complicated. Too complicated for him to figure out.

“Yeah, pizza sounds good…” she said.

He headed toward the car, Viola in tow. Somehow he had just unwittingly entered into a pact with her, and damn if he knew how to get out of it.

T
he next day
, Callum took a personal day. Or what he would call a personal day if he worked a normal job, anyway. Whatever
that
was…

He slept later than usual, hit his apartment’s gym, showered with the help of some very dirty thoughts, and was eating a late breakfast when Viola made her appearance.

She wore an oversized shirt and gray shorts, obviously meant for sleeping in. He eyed the shirt, wondering who it came from. He shouldn’t care, but damn. It made him jealous.

“Good morning,” he said to her.

She went from looking tired to looking like something had spoiled.

“Ugh, the sun is bright enough. You don’t have to be so in my face about it,” she said.

“I made coffee.”

A grunt was her only response. He worked on his bowl of granola silently, waiting to speak again until she’d fixed herself a cup and had a few sips.

“You ever going to get used to early mornings?” he asked.

“Not if I can help it.”

He snorted. Finishing his granola, he washed the bowl and spoon, dried them, and put them away.

“Did the SEALs make you crazy tidy?” she asked.

“Hard to be messy when you don’t have anything to get dirty.”

She looked at him. “You were… poor? Growing up, I mean.”

He made a face. “Not exactly. My mom died when I was sixteen, but until then, it was… well. We had the basics.”

“I didn’t know your mom had passed.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. I know what that’s like.”

Callum shrugged. “Anyway, I meant in the SEALs. The Black Saints, we all joked that we lived on deployment. Volunteered for it. So after a while, we stopped keeping nice things around. What we had on missions was a restricted version of what we had at home.”

“Huh. Sounds… well, sounds awful.”

“You’re not going to thank me for my service, are you?”

“Not when you put it like that, I’m not.” She considered Callum. “You’re not working today?”

“Not planning on it.”

“Well, what
are
we going to do?”

“I didn’t realize I was entertaining us both.”

“Them’s the breaks, soldier-man.”

He considered the day before him. He had to run a bunch of boring errands, picking up dry cleaning and all that jazz. Then he was taking himself out to the range.

The Italians would be fools to attack them at a gun range. It was madness.

“You want to go shooting?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Pardon me?”

“I like to go out to the shooting range. Keep myself sharp. I was wondering if you’d like to go.”

“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose.

“The other alternative is that I go by myself, while you stay home.”

“When you put it that way…” she said, still not looking thrilled with the idea.

“I have a bunch of errands to run. How about if you’re ready by one o’clock?”

She nodded. “Sure.”

“All right.”

He went to run his errands, pleased that she’d agreed.

W
hen he came back
to get her, he found her draped over the living room couch. She was dressed at least, in a tiny yellow tank top and a pair of white short shorts. Her head was firmly in a book, though.

What was there to even study? For people out of school, anyway.

He went into the bedroom to deposit his dry cleaning, and get his guns. He didn’t have a ton of choice in the matter, since all he had on paper were two Glocks. That didn’t take into account 80 percent of his gear, but she didn’t need to know about all that.

He loaded up his weapons in a duffel bag and grabbed a few hundred bullets, too. Now the bag was heavy, typical of the mobster he was supposed to be.

Callum headed out to the living room. She was still as engrossed in a medical textbook as ever.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

She held up one finger, turning the page, and finished some little bit of the book. Then she closed it with a snap, sighing.

“The brain is so complex,” she said, standing up and putting the book aside. “Did you know that after a stroke, the brain relearns all the pathways to affected organs? Like if a patient’s hand is affected in the stroke, the brain will either relearn the pathways to make the hand function, or it’ll learn new ones.”

“No, can’t say I did,” he said, impressed by her ability to learn. “You should probably go put another shirt on, something that covers the…”

He motioned to his décolletage.

She cocked her hip. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes. It’s protect you from the recoil on the gun. It kicks back some seriously hot lead, really fast.”

“Oh.” Her rage about being told what to wear subsided. “All right. Be right back.”

She ran to her room, and came back with a suitable long-sleeved top, a nice jade color.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

He drove her out to a range that was a bit outside the city. It was usually empty, and the people there didn’t ask too many questions.

When they got out of the car at the strip mall, going into a former department store, Viola slid him a look.

“These guys have heard that armed gunmen and malls don’t mix, right?”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. They just needed the space, and this was a nice place to set up.”

“Ah.”

They walked into the shooting range. Half the place was set up as an obstacle course, half regular style with lanes. There was a counter up front, against the wall. There was every conceivable kind of gun stuck up there behind safety glass, with targets and polaroids of the owners hitting a bullseye.

Fair warning
, he thought.

He could see the shooting range, laid out nice and clean for them. They just had to get by the gun-loving Savannah boys first.

“Hello,” Callum said, putting his bag with the guns and ammo on the counter. There were two guys behind the counter, one fat and one skinny, both in camo.

“Well, looky here,” said Skinny. He was looking at Viola, of course. “Welcome.”

“Yeah, welcome. We don’t see much of your kind around here,” Fat said as he eyed her as well.

“Ummm…” Viola said, looking to Callum for help.

“Two shooting passes,” Callum said, disinterested in the struggle that started occurring between the two over who got to stand at the counter closest to her. “Got my own weapons here.”

Skinny nodded to him, giving up on the battle with his friend in order to do his job. He looked in the bag and nodded to Callum.

“One hundred bucks,” he said, his gaze sliding back to Viola.

Callum could tell that both men wanted to spend more time with Viola, shoot the shit, but he disappointed them.

“Hey,” he said to her. “Take this bag over there, all right?”

Viola nodded, lifting the bag with obvious effort.

“I can help her,” Fat offered, pivoting in her direction.

“No.” The word came out a little harsher than he meant it to, but damn.

Fat scowled. Skinny lit up when he saw the hundred dollar bill Callum proffered; to him, cash was king.

“Need a receipt?” Skinny asked as he eagerly accepted it.

“Nope.”

He walked away as soon as possible. That was the thing about rednecks with guns. Callum was loathe to make them angry, because they had a lot of guns.

Better to avoid that fight. Still, his knuckles were cracking from the episode.

So much for this being relaxing
, he thought.

He found Viola at the end of the row of stalls. They’d been retrofitted to be bulletproof, with targets hanging at the opposite end from where they stood.

“Hey,” she said, perking up at his presence. “We’re the only ones here.”

“Yeah, aside from Chip and Dale back there.”

She laughed. “I didn’t want to make them mad. I was looking at the guns and thinking,
there’s more where that came from
.”

“Yep. All right. Let’s get you set up here.”

He pulled a couple pairs of glasses off the wall for eye protection, along with two new pairs of earplugs. He handed them over to her, trying not to laugh at the sight of her wearing the glasses.

“What?” she demanded to know.

“Nothing, nothing. Just, you look very official, that’s all.”

Her mouth crooked in a lopsided smile.

“What are we doing here?” she said, pointing at the duffel bag.

He pulled out one of the guns, double-checked to make certain it wasn’t loaded, then instructed her on all the gun parts. She nodded, and he could see that same intelligence taking everything apart, putting it all together again.

Apparently the brain wasn’t the only thing she could study.

“Okay,” she said. “The safety’s on, right?”

“Yup.” He handed the gun over to her. She looked a little nervous, as well she should.

After all, the last time she’d held a gun, she killed somebody.

He watched her point it at the floor, going through all the motions. After a few minutes, he was ready to give her ammo.

“Alright,” he said, taking the gun back and carefully loading it. “Come here.”

She came to where he was standing.

“Take the gun,” he instructed. “And stand like you’re preparing to fire.”

She stood awkwardly, like she was afraid of the gun.

“Here,” he said, slipping his arms around hers, hands around the gun. He felt her shiver as he touched her.

He spoke a little louder, realizing she probably couldn’t hear.

“Show the gun that you’re in control. Show it who’s boss. You do that, nothing bad will happen.”

She squeezed the trigger, and fired off a shot. It went wide of the mark, veering right before sticking in the rubber anti-bullet mat.

“Alright. You got it. Now look at the target. Don’t close your eyes this time when you fire.”

He gave her a gentle squeeze, encouraging her. She fired again, managing to actually hit the target. She cheered.

He released her with a sigh. It felt too good to hold her like that. He was venturing into dangerous territory.

She looked back at him.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing. You’re doing well. Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll watch.”

He sat down in one of the folding chairs that were along the wall. True to his word, he did watch… only it was her ass that had his attention. He could imagine the way her ass would feel in his hands when he grabbed her.

“Hey,” she said, waving her gunless hand in his direction. “I think I’m getting the hang of this. And I need more bullets.”

Callum let her go three more rounds, then announced that it was his turn. After carefully taking the gun from her, he loaded it and went to the next stall.

He fired the whole clip, back to back, most of his bullets hitting the same spot: dead bullseye.

“Holy shit,” Viola breathed, watching over his shoulder.

Yep. The SEALs did make me quite the marksman.

They took turns firing, handing off the gun, until they were out of bullets.

“I think that’s it for us,” he said, securing the guns in duffel.

“I got my fill, for sure.”

They headed out, ignoring the heavy gazes of the two brothers at the front. Still, Callum didn’t feel safe until Viola was in the car, buckling up her seatbelt.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Yeah, starving,” she said.

“I know a little Mexican place around the corner. It’s not much to look at, but the food’s fantastic.”

“Let’s do it!”

Within minutes, they were walking into a tiny stucco building. It might have been boring on the outside, but it was colorful inside. Strings of cat-shaped lights hung everywhere, and the drinks were served in plastic faux cacti.

A hostess was quick to seat them, explaining that they were about to close the kitchen for a break in half an hour.

“We’ll be quick,” Viola assured her, looking back at him. He shrugged and followed them to a table.

Chips and salsa were delivered forthwith, along with menus. They hustled through ordering, then were left with giant cactus-shaped mugs of water.

“So…” she said.

“So?” he asked.

“I dunno. I thought maybe you could tell me some more about Declan and Cormac.”

He pulled a face. “Why? I already told you, you can’t sleep with them.”

“Psssh, in their dreams. I meant like… how you ended up in the Cúram together. Surely your father only had to pull you out of military jail. Why did he get Declan and Cormac out too?”

“Ah. That’s simple enough. I blackmailed him. I said if he left them in, I would go to the Navy and confess. He’d have a black mark on the Connor family name, and no son to speak of.”

“I’m sure that went over well.”

“Yeah, real well. He threatened not to talk to me.” Callum shrugged. “He got us all out. So I guess it worked.”

“Do either of them have girlfriends?”

He repressed the need to glare at her.

“Why do you ask?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Declan seems like he’s maybe stable enough to date. Cormac though…”

He nodded. “Neither of them have girls. Like, girls they see on the regular, I mean. The SEALs sort of… convince you not to take that next step with just anyone.”

Viola’s eyebrows shot up.

“What, you can sleep with anything that moves, but not date them?”

“I didn’t say that they were manwhores.”

“You didn’t not say it, either.”

He chuckled. “Let’s just say that Dec and Cor are taking it slow, as it were.”

She pressed her lips together, looking away. He could tell that she wanted to say something, but was too chickenshit to say it.

“What?” he asked.

She looked at him, those sapphire eyes piercing.

“What about you?” she said slowly. “Who are you waiting for?”

He wished he could take back his prompt.
What the hell was she asking? Did she want to know if he was waiting for her?

Before he could wrap his head around the question, their food arrived. Nachos for him, a Speedy Gonzales special for her.

He dug in without answering, eating with such gusto that she eventually just shook her head. She dug into her own food, scowling at her plate.

He finished before her, hopping up to pay the check. When he got back, her plate was cleared.