Hit and Run: A Mafia Hitman Romance (10 page)

Cain helps me out of the taxi. “Don’t get too comfortable here,” he says.

“You’re like, Jason Bourne, aren’t you?” I ask him, my mouth still agape.

“Any contacts I have are courtesy of Robert,” he says. “Don’t give me so much credit. I’m just a trashy hitman. Not some international super spy.”

Cain reaches up to bang the heavy, brass door knocker shaped like a dragon, but the door opens before he has a chance.

An old man in a butler’s uniform opens the door. “Hello,” he says in a British accent. “Welcome.”

Cain steps inside and stands in the grand entrance awkwardly.

He’s right. He’s no international spy. For one thing, he’s entirely too muscular. He’s no svelte James Bond.

“May I take your coats?” the man asks.

We both hand him our jackets. I’m still wearing the jeans and flannel that Cain brought me in the farmhouse two days ago. I feel disgusting and am in desperate need of a shower.

My clothes make me feel even more out of place than I already am.

“Mr. Lucas will be with you shortly,” he says. “Please go on through to the main sitting area.”

We walk through the house, and I stay close to Cain. I was expecting the Beast’s castle, but inside the walls of what must be an ancient building, the house is modern and sleek. Everything is covered in white marble and shiny metal.

“This is weird,” I whisper to Cain as we sit on a white, modular leather sofa.

“Not what you were expecting, huh?” he asks. “Don’t worry, Damian Lucas is exactly as you’re picturing him.”

“How do you know how I’m picturing him?”

But Cain is right. We both stand up to greet our host as he makes his grand entrance.

Damian Lucas steps into the living room looking every inch of the billionaire playboy he probably is. He has dark, slicked-back hair and a devilish grin. He’s wearing a casual polo shirt, perfectly pressed khakis, and no shoes. He wouldn’t be out of place in Miami.

He sees me staring at his feet. “Floors are heated,” he says. “It cost a fortune, but hey. Spare no expense, right?” His green eyes meet mine and I feel a pinging of foreboding in the back of my head. He’s gorgeous, but I don’t trust him. Not one bit. He holds out his hand. “Damian,” he says.

I reach out mine. “Elizabeth.” He picks my hand up and kisses it. His lips feel clammy against my skin.

“My, my, my. I wasn’t expecting a hideous beast like Cain to roll in here with someone who looks like you.” He grins at me and I grimace back. Ugh. This guy is sleazy.

“Good to see you, too, Damian,” Cain says sarcastically. Cain looks at me. “He’s my cousin,” he explains. “His mom is my aunt.”

I can sort of see it. Damian is almost an alternate-universe version of Cain. Not nearly as muscular, but with just as much charm and the same good looks.

“Sit, sit. Please. Make yourselves at home, alright?”

Damian leans back, his arms behind his head. “So, what brings you all the way here, cuz?”

Cain leans forward. I can tell he’s on his guard and this makes me even more nervous. “You probably heard what happened the other night. I want to know what people think is going on.”

Damian laughs. “I always liked that you get straight to the point.” He smiles at me. “So sorry to hear your wedding reception was so disastrous. Must have been awful for you.”

I take my time in answering. Something is telling me to slow down. Be cautious. Don’t say too much. “Thank you,” I reply.

“Well, here’s what people think. They think your dad hired the shooters. About four people died, all Romanos, which is pretty incredible when you think about it.”

“My sister,” I say, unable to finish the question. I almost don’t want to know.

“She’s fine,” he says. “Your dad is gone. I think an aunt of yours. Maybe two cousins?” He leans forward and presses a silver button embedded into the glass coffee table top. “Drinks,” he explains at my look of utter confusion.

“So we’re at war again, I take it?” Cain asks.

I suddenly realize that Damian has no idea that Cain is a double agent. Cain is playing this very particularly. He’s trying to keep both of us safe.

I’m not getting in the way of that for anything.

I’m just shutting up and letting him work.

“Well,
I’m
not at war. I’m doing just fine over here,” Damian says with a slimy grin. “But the family? Yeah, that’s what I’m hearing.”

“Right. Okay,” Cain replies. “Who’s looking for us?”

Damian laughs. “Everyone, pretty much. They’re all pretty pissed that you ran.” Damian furrows his brow. “Why
did
you run?”

Cain doesn’t miss a beat. “We were eager to get the honeymoon started.”

Damian laughs, but it’s a cold laugh. The joy doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s a chilling sound. “Very funny.”

“I wasn’t risking Elizabeth’s life over some kind of petty family drama,” Cain says by way of serious explanation.

“So you’re out of the family business, then. Officially.” Damian says this as a statement, not a question.

“You and I both know it’s not that simple,” Cain says. “I can’t just
leave
the family business.”

“But you ran anyway. Doesn’t look too good.” The butler appears with a tray of glasses filled with champagne. Damian takes one and drinks the entire contents in one gulp. He hands the glass back to the butler. “Some people might think you were dirty, dear cousin.”

Cain laughs. “Me? Yeah, you can definitely picture me as an informant, can’t you?” Cain takes the champagne and sips it, setting it on the table. I refuse the refreshments. I just don’t feel like letting my guard down even a little in front of this slimy asshole in front of me. “I’ve killed far too many people on dad’s behalf for the government to offer me a deal.”

Damian narrows his stare as if trying to x-ray Cain. “I don’t know. You certainly have been on more field trips than your brothers.”

“Dad trusts me more than he trusts them,” Cain explains. He stares at Damian while I try to keep my face as neutral as possible. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you think I’m a snitch.”

Damian remains in position, still staring at Cain. After a few excruciating seconds that feel like interminable lifetimes, he speaks. “You’re not an informant. Of course you aren’t.” Damian stands up suddenly and claps his hands together. “Let me show you your rooms while you’re staying here.
Mi casa es su casa
.”

I look at Cain with uncertainty but he gives me a small nod. We follow Damian upstairs.

He shows us to an incredibly well-appointed bedroom with a white four-poster bed, white duvet, and grey wool accent pillows. The bathroom is like something out of a fantasy. Full-size tub with jets, a dual vanity, and a wood-panelled sauna room.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to get some rest,” Damian says. “I’m sure it’s been a busy couple of days. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

“Thanks so much,” Cain says, shaking Damian’s hand. “We’ll be out of your hair sooner rather than later.”

Damian eyes my body up and down. “I hope that’s not the case.”

Then he shuts the bedroom door.

I wait until I hear his footsteps trailing down the hallway before releasing the shiver that I’ve been holding for the last half hour. I open my mouth to speak, but Cain puts a finger over my lips.

“Nice place, isn’t it?” He says a little too loudly. “I came here once when I was younger. Damian’s dad bought this place ages ago. But Damian’s definitely updated it.” Cain circles the room and drops his passport on the ground. “Oops,” he says, getting on his knees to pick it up. He tilts his head surreptitiously to check under the bedside table.

He stands up and glances at the inside of the lampshade.

I realize he’s checking for bugs, and not the kind that fly around the room. We have to put on a show.

Our lives depend on it.

“Really nice place,” I say to him, catching on.

Cain pulls his shirt off. “Shower time,” he says with a grin.

My breath catches in my chest at the sight of his muscles and tattoos. I’m sure I look like a trainwreck, but he’s still a masterpiece.

“Wanna join me?” he asks, unzipping his jeans and letting the pants fall to the floor.

I shake my head. “Not really.”

But I do. My body is screaming out that I want to.

“I think you should,” he says with a significant look toward the lampshade he just inspected. “Nice hot shower would do you some good. Make you feel like a new person.”

I realize he wants to talk and the shower is the only safe place to do it. There can’t be bugs in there, and the noise of the water will cover up any discussion we have.

“Give me a minute!” I call after him. The last sight I catch of him is his bare ass as he drops his boxers onto the ground. I look up at the light fixture and wonder if there’s a camera hidden inside of the modern, minimalistic chandelier. I pull off my clothes and quickly walk into the bathroom, clicking the door shut behind me.

Cain is already inside the steaming hot, marble-lined shower stall. My stomach does a backflip of joy when I see him in there. I can’t help it.

I step inside the glass stall and cross my arms over my chest.

“You look nice,” Cain says at a normal volume, soap already in his hair. He leans his head back to let the hot water rinse out the suds. He pulls me closer to him and leans down to whisper in my ear. “We’re not safe here. There’s probably a camera watching us right now. We’ve got to make this look believable.”

I feel heat rising in my body and it isn’t because of the shower. I glance out the floor-length window that makes up the back wall of the stall. Snow is falling again, covering the already eight-feet-high drifts.

Cain kisses my neck and whispers again. “Don’t trust Damian. I think he knows about me. He knows that I’m working with the feds. I’m almost certain of it.”

I reach up and kiss his ear, running my hands down his naked back. “Why did we come here, then?”

“I wasn’t sure if it’d be safe or not. And I had to get intel on what’s going on at home,” Cain says breathlessly.

My heart is pounding in my chest. It’s a mix of pure fear and pure attraction. I can hardly take it. I feel heat pulsing between my legs. I want Cain right now. And he did say we needed to put on a show.

Cain runs his fingers down my back and my skin is covered in goosebumps. The water falls down both of our bodies, making our skin slick. Cain moves his kisses from my neck down to my collarbone. He reaches underneath my breasts and lifts them up, squeezing them together and kissing the line of cleavage he just formed with his touch alone.

I gasp and reach down to find what I’m looking for. He’s hard and ready for me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t tease him. I gently run my fingernails across his delicate skin, and he shudders underneath my touch. I take his full length in my palm and run my hand back and forth. I still can’t believe how big he is.

Cain runs his tongue across my nipples. They’re so hard with anticipation it’s almost painful. But it’s a good kind of pain. He moves his fingers down to my mound and slips them inside of me, feeling my wetness.

“You’re ready quick for someone who just swore she wouldn’t sleep with me on this trip,” Cain says louder than a whisper.

“Shut up and get to work,” I retort, still pumping him with my hand. “Actually, wait.”

Cain stops his journey down to my most tender places and looks at me, perplexed.

“It’s my turn to help you out.” I give him a significant look that says
If we’re putting on a show, it may as well be a good one
. I get on my knees and take his hard length into my mouth. His skin is salty and delicate.

Soon, Cain is the one shaking. He pulls me up by my armpits. “I want to be inside of you,” he moans into my ear. He lifts me up and I slide over him, his fullness pushing at my walls, filling me up with pleasure.

I make sure to scream extra loud.

Our lives depend on this being believable.

So I’m making it count.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CAIN

I lied to Elizabeth again.

The reason we came here isn’t only because I wanted news of what’s happening back home in New York.

I came here because Damian has something that might be able to save our lives.

After another rousing fuck in the bed this time – a first for us – I slip out of our room with Elizabeth left behind me sleeping soundly.

I make it look like I’m going to the kitchen and I slip into the security room I know is hidden in what looks like a closet.

A few seconds of typing on the mechanical keyboards and I’ve set the videos on a loop.

I only need enough time to sneak into Damian’s study on the other side of the house.

This should be all I need. It won’t take me long.

I pad over the warm floors to the east wing. There’s a set of shiny white doors at the end of the cavernous hallway. There’s a keypad to the right of the door.

I type in his birthday and the door opens.

Easy enough.

A little
too
easy.

But I’m on a mission and have no time to second guess things.

I click the door shut behind me and step into yet another white, cold room.

There’s a modern table in the center of the space with a desktop Apple computer on it. I sit in the uncomfortable white leather desk chair and get to work.

Security measure after security measure unfolds before my eyes. His password is
password
, for fuck’s sake. He’s exactly the kind of arrogant bastard who doesn’t have the time or energy to try harder.

I guess he figures if he has house guests, they won’t go snooping.

I slip a thumb drive out of my pocket and hook it up to the computer.

I find the files I’m looking for in a folder labelled
Personal
.

I tap my fingers impatiently as the files transfer, glancing up at the door nervously.

The computer beeps and I eject the drive, slipping it into my pocket and making my way out the door of the office.

That was easy.

I walk through the entryway to the security room so I can reset the camera feed.