Hard Up: A Military Mafia Romance (12 page)

“
W
hat do
you want if I order pizza?”

Callum looked over at Vi. They were back at his place, and she was keeping her stuff in her room, but sharing his bed every night. Things looked like they were back to normal, which was how things would appear if the Valettis were about to order a hit.

So yeah, Callum was nervous. He looked up from the couch, his gaze moving from the ceiling to floor window, and back to the newspaper he held.

“Whatever you want. I’m staying in tonight, though.”

She paused, standing in the kitchen, clearly taken aback. “Yeah?”

“Yep. It’s supposed to rain tonight,” he said, like that was some kind of excuse. He worked every day, rain in, rain out.

The worst part was, he knew that she knew he was full of shit. She just didn’t ask too many questions about the nature of his work, especially not since Tybee Island.

“Okay,” she said, turning away. “I’ll order enough for the guy working the door, yes?”

She was talking about their security guard, Jay. She must’ve noticed when he was gone, because he sure as hell wasn’t letting her out to talk to strange men.

“Sure.”

It had been a week since they’d gone to Tybee Island, a week since he had found out about Capistrano. A week that he’d been anxiously awaiting word from his guy inside the Valetti family confirming that the Valettis had put a hit on Viola.

A week without sleep, mostly.

Callum heard a knock on the door. He looked at his watch. Almost eight on a weeknight.

He went the door, expecting Jay. But it wasn’t, it was Fallon.

Shit. Shit, shit! What had he done?

He checked the room, realized Viola had gone to make her phone call in private. He opened the door to let Fallon in. The older man wore a gray suit, not unlike Callum; it was a bit like looking in a mirror that showed you the future.

“I heard you’re not working tonight,” Fallon said by way of introduction. “Must be nice.”

“Fallon, what are you doing here?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

“Oh, just checking up on you. Sweet son of the praised father, and all.” He smiled, and sat down on Callum’s couch, making himself comfortable. “Where are your manners? Offer me a drink.”

Callum was on edge, but he walked into the kitchen.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked, keeping his tone formal.

His uncle grinned. “No. I heard your girl is something to look at, though.”

Callum froze at the mention of Viola. Who’d been talking about her?

He turned. “What are you here for, Fallon?”

“I came to see your girl,” Fallon said, leaning forward. “Ah, there she is.”

Viola came in, looking at Fallon with evident confusion. “Guests, Callum?”

Callum couldn’t think of anything to say.
How do I introduce my partially insane uncle?

Turned out, he didn’t have to because Fallon introduced himself. Fallon stood, taking her offered hand in sweeping kiss.

“I am Fallon, the handsomer version of your beau,” he said.

She flushed, no doubt because of the beau part. Callum’s fists tightened, but he didn’t say anything. What could he say? That he was most certainly not her beau?

That would be the end of things between her and Callum, and he wasn’t ready for that.

“Viola,” she said politely.

Callum could see her trying to shake his uncle off. He had to step in.

“Fallon—”

“Viola Valetti, am I right?” Fallon asked, all smiles.

“What? No,” he told his uncle.

Callum turned to Viola, who had gone ashen.

“Who are you?” she asked Fallon, her voice soft but audible.

“Viola, tell him who you really are,” Callum said, growing angry.

She and Fallon were sizing one another up, trying to figure out how to defeat one another.

“God, this is good,” Fallon said, turning his attention to Callum. “You have a gold mine sitting right in front of you, and you don’t even know. What a life you got, kid. Even the chicks you bang end up being from a golden goose.”

Callum lost control of himself then, hauling off and punching his uncle in the face. Fallon looked back at Callum, tasting his own blood from where it rolled down his lip, dripping.

Fallon laughed, looking at both of them. Viola was trying really hard not to cry. Fallon stood, preparing to leave.

“You know what? It’s okay. Because when we turn her over to the Valettis, they’re gonna owe us, big time. A lot of dough. And it’s gonna clear whatever you did to get yourself shot at in the first place. The Valettis promised me the lives of all you Black Saints, in exchange for her. So I don’t even care that you just punched me over some stupid bitch, when she’s gonna be a windfall soon enough.”’

Viola was deadly pale, shaking.

“Get. Out.” Callum bit the words off, thinking it was impossible to hate Fallon any more than he did.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Fallon said. “Don’t worry, Viola. I’ll give your love to your father.”

Callum barely saw her move, just saw a blur and then bright red erupt across Fallon’s face. She’d slapped him.

“You little—” Fallon started, but Callum grabbed him by the lapels and forced him from the apartment.

“Don’t fucking come back,” he warned as he shut the door in Fallon’s face.

Door closed, Callum paused. When he turned around, he was going to face Viola… and no matter what Fallon had said, he’d definitely raised some serious questions.

Callum turned to Viola, his face carefully blank.

He saw the tear snaking down the side of her face, but he could not be swayed. Would not be swayed.

“Is it true?” he asked.

She looked at him for a moment, her eyes never quite so blue. She slowly nodded.

“Two weeks!” he snapped, startling her. “Two weeks it’s been since I told you who my father was. And nothing from you.”

“Y-you don’t understand,” she said, her voice so low he could barely hear it. “There’s a reason.”

“Yeah? A good reason you’d lie to me, right to my face?”

“My father is poison,” she spat. “He killed my fiancé because he planned to marry me to one of his friends!”

That stopped him cold. “Fiancé?”

“It was three years ago.”

She interpreted the tone of his question as jealousy. In reality, he was struggling to keep from flying into a rage, and he had no idea why. After all, she was just a chick that he banged sometimes.

So why the fury?

“That’s a hell of a lot about yourself to hold back. Your father, your fiancé… what else don’t I know about you?”

She was silent for a moment, perhaps unsure how to answer. He would be unsure too, in her position.

“Callum…” she tried, but he cut her off.

“This is a lot to take in,” he said. “I’m going out for a drive.”

“Callum, please—” she tried again.

He just shook his head and grabbed his jacket, heading out the door. Thinking for a second, he slid the prisoner lock home, ensuring that she’d be inside when he got back.

He stormed past Jay, not ready to hear excuses as to why he’d let anyone that close to the apartment. Jumping in his SUV, he peeled out of the parking deck, heading into the night.

Where did you go when you were shaking with anger, and you weren’t sure why?

“
A
re you the birthday boy
?” husked a brunette wearing barely-there panties and not a lot else. “I’m a surprise for the man of the hour.”

She leaned over Callum’s lap, pressing her enormous silicone breasts close to his face, beaming.

Callum looked around Savannah’s finest strip club for Cormac, who was surely behind this ploy. Cormac was leaning against the bar, innocently chatting up some very hot strippers. With the looks on their faces, he could very well bet whose bed Cor would be slipping out of in the morning.

He sighed and turned back to the girl practically prostrating herself in front of Callum.

“Tell you what. Come back if I’m still here in an hour,” he said, stuffing a twenty dollar bill in her G-string.

“Okay,” she simpered, retreating. Her ass bounced and jiggled as she left, but Callum couldn’t even get excited about it.

“Seriously?” said Declan, watching her ass as she walked away. “Damn, dude.”

“Strippers don’t really do anything for me.”

“Anymore, you must mean. Because I seem to remember a stripper named Brandi that rocked your world. You actually slept with her more than once.”

Callum frowned at Declan. Up on stage, a new dancer came up, grinding against the pole.

“These girls just seem fake, that’s all.”

Declan rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing. “They’re fake in comparison with Viola, you mean.”

“Fake in comparison with anybody.”

Callum was tired of the talk about Viola, even though that was what he’d sought out Declan’s company for. Of course Cormac was euphoric upon hearing of Callum’s plight. He’d suggested the location for their meetup.

“Callum, you care for Viola. Obviously, since you’ve tolerated her presence for a month.”

Callum’s jaw tightened, and he glanced away.

“She’s a liar.”

“So? That’s practically on your dating checklist. You don’t want the girl you’re seeing to tell the first police officer she sees that you’re with the Cúram.”

Callum glanced at Declan. “I also want her to be honest with me.”

“So, she didn’t tell you some stuff about herself.”

“Like the fact that she had a fucking fiancé.”

Declan was quiet for a minute. “She said her fiancé was dead.”

“Yeah, she did. How am I supposed to know what he was like?”

“You mean figure out if you two are the same??” Declan said. “And what would you do if you weren’t?”

“Damn you, Declan.”

“Don’t damn me. I’m just saying, you didn’t even get the whole story. Maybe she’s attracted to something different in you.”

Callum raised his hand to the waitress, who rushed over with two more shots of whisky. He pushed one to Declan without a word, and they both drank. Silence reigned for a full minute.

“Do you think you can get yourself drunk enough to fuck one of them?” Declan asked, nodding to one of the strippers.

Callum shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Maybe you don’t want to.”

“This was a bad idea, coming here.” Callum pushed himself to his feet, a little unsteady.

“Shit. You’re drunk.”

“Am not.” Callum scowled.

“You are. Stay at my house tonight.”

“I’m not staying at your house. Let me go.” Callum started toward the door, only to find himself on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“That would’ve hurt if you weren’t drunk,” Declan said. “Now give me your keys, and I’ll drive you home. I’ve had half as much to drink as you.”

Rolling his eyes, Callum handed over his keys. In return, he got a hand up off the ground.

“I’ll kick your ass if you ever try that again,” he growled at Declan.

“You’re welcome to try.”

They left, Callum feeling out of sorts in his own passenger seat. By the time he got himself upstairs and got the door unlocked, the apartment was quiet. Moonlight cast a pallor over everything.

Viola sat at the kitchen counter, looking surprised when he came in. She stayed still, like a bird trying not to attract the notice of a predator.

“Look who’s still here,” he said, dropping in the seat next to her.

Her nose wrinkled. “You reek of whisky.”

“Hmm. I went drinking with Declan and Cormac. We hashed out some
issues
.”

She turned to look at him. If only she wasn’t quite so beautiful right now, with her pouty lower lip and her sparkling blue eyes. His eyes drifted down to the curves he could just barely make out in her pajamas, longing for more.

“Callum, you know me,” she said softly. “You know I don’t do things senselessly. If I say I ran for a reason, you can bet it’s good.”

Callum laughed. “Good enough to get the Black Saints shot? Because that’s gonna happen if I don’t turn you in.”

“There was already a hit on you when I met you,” she said, agitated.

“Yeah? Well, now they’re gonna double down on it. If they wanted me before, how much more do you think they’re gonna want Valetti’s daughter back?”

Her mouth thinned. She looked away.

“You’re on a plane, tomorrow,” he said, standing. “Better get some beauty sleep.”

He left her like that, staring away into the empty night sky.

Going to his room, he closed the door and fell down on the bed, exhausted. He closed his eyes, thinking of what a clusterfuck they were in. Sleep pulled him down immediately, dreamlessly.

T
HUNK
.

His eyes snapped open, and he glanced at the clock.

3 a.m.

His brain was fuzzy from all the alcohol, but he had definitely heard a noise.
Hadn’t he?

He got up and crept to his door. Nothing in the hallway, only dark silence. He picked up his gun, sticking it in his waistband for good measure.

Pushing his door open, he went straight to Viola’s room. He found her bed empty, suitcases tossed all over the room.

His fists tightened. No way was she going to escape him, not after what she’d done.

Callum went to the main room, surprised to see the door wide open. For being a filthy liar, she sure wasn’t sneaky.

He followed the corridor out to find Jay passed out, probably hit with a stun gun.

Now she’s in real trouble
, he thought.

He took the stairs down to the parking lot. Looking around, he struck out at random, scanning the area wildly.

There!
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure hurrying toward River Street. It had to be Viola. She was carrying what looked like a small bag of possessions.

Behind her, he saw a car start and begin to roll after her. Viola raced by several blocks of parks, seemingly intent on her goal.

Danger
. Fallon or the Valettis, he wasn’t sure which, but neither had good intentions.

He started running, drawing his gun. If that car wanted to grab her, they had another thing coming.

As if sensing her followers, Viola took a random left across an open bit of park, cutting almost completely back in the direction she came.

She saw Callum at the same time she heard the squeal of tires. She stopped, then ran back the other way, sprinting toward River Street. The car had to go around the block, leaving Callum the closest to Viola.

He was gaining on her…

She reached River Street before he did, running hopelessly for shelter. Everything was closed at this hour, all the lights out. He was almost close enough to touch her now; if she just threw those possessions down, she would probably be able to outrun him.

Callum reached her just as the car did. The vehicle slowed down, one of the doors opening. He saw a man tuck and roll out of the car, realized that they were trying for a quick grab rather than a drive-by shooting.

Good
. A kidnapping they could outlive.

He stopped and shot at the strange man, managed to wound him. The man howled, which gave Callum the perfect opportunity to shoot him in the leg.

He saw the car pull away with a squeal of tires, abandoning their attempt midway through. When the would-be kidnapper fled, albeit less able than before, Callum turned to Viola.

Viola had stopped, and now stood and stared at Callum. He marched over to her, grabbed her by the waist hard enough to make her gasp, and kissed her with every ounce of fury and worry he had inside him.

She melted into the kiss, burying her hands into his hair, pressing closer.

When he finally pulled back, they were both a little breathless. He looked down into her eyes for a second, then leaned his forehead against hers.

Fuck. He couldn’t just let her leave like this, couldn’t let her leave at all
.

“Come on,” he said softly, taking her hand and leading her back to the parking lot. “We need to talk, but we have to get somewhere safe first.”

Calling a cab, he brooded over where that might be. He guessed that they would go to another hotel, one where they had no history. The cab would take care of any tracking devices that may have been planted on his car.

Viola was quiet, almost downtrodden in the cab. Maybe because she realized what was up against her. The Irish and Italian mafias were both after her, ready to use her as a bargaining chip in the hateful game they played.

And him? He didn’t quite know what his end goal was, just that he wasn’t ready to let her go.

They ended up at a nice hotel about ten miles away, one that Callum had been eyeing for a while. Once they got up to their room, Viola sunk into a chair and refused to look at Callum.

“Viola, tell me the whole story. Don’t leave anything out.”

Callum settled on a corner of the bed, waiting. She looked at him, her eyes full of tears.

“He was going to sell me to the highest bidder. Amongst his rich friends. So I ran.”

“Tell me about the… fiancé.”

She looked away. “It was my third year of college. Jason was… a really nice guy. And rich. I knew without a doubt that he would always take care of me. He insisted on asking my father for my hand in marriage. I tried to tell him…”

She broke down sobbing. Callum’s hands itched to comfort her, but he stayed put.

“You tried to tell him that your father was mobbed up?”

She glanced at him, then shook her head.

“I didn’t know. Or if I knew, I didn’t pay attention. And then after… after Jason… I realized, once my father was introducing me to my potential future husbands at the funeral. I was so shocked, I just… I knew I had to run. Change my name.”

“So you used a fake name?”

“My mom’s, before she was a Valetti. She was a fairly famous runway model, Grace Walker.”

The name didn’t ring any bells, but then again why would it?

“What I don’t understand is… you have a troubled past. You’re on the run. You’d do best to avoid everything to do with the Black Saints… Why did you save me?”

He leaned forward, looking right in her eyes. And for a second, for a flash, he saw the truth.

There, gleaming in those sapphire pools, plain as day.

Love.

Pure, simple, and unmistakable.

Then she launched herself at him, her lips seeking his. She was comforting herself, wrapping herself in him.

And he allowed it. Encouraged it. Even needed it, the solace of her flesh.

Why?

Why did he need her so much?

Soon all thought was lost as she pulled him down, down…