Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance (78 page)

“For sure, no bullshit?”

No answer. Auger stared at Callie hard, his expression reminding her of the hundred times he had come up with crazy plans before. Her stomach clenched.

“Well, how long do we have to get outta Dodge?”

Bryce shrugged. “Figured we’d have to leave by dark, just to be safe.”

Auger nodded, swiping his phone off the coffee table. His jaw was set in a hard, resolute line. “Bryce, do not do anything until we get back. Callie?”

She hesitated, then gave him a curt nod, understanding what he was silently telling her.

“There’s nothing you guys can do, man…”

“Just trust me,” Auger said, his eyes shining like a copper blade. “I got this.”

Auger

Ripping a white, fluffy towel from the bar, Auger scrubbed at his long hair and then wiped down his legs before finally allowing himself to pick up the buzzing cellphone. Despite his misgivings, the word
Yes
 made his guts jump, just a little.

He stared at the tiny LED screen for a few more seconds to make sure it was real, to make sure he really was going to do this.

FROM: Winsor Cooke
MESSAGE: Yes.

All right,
 he thought, pushing all doubts way down, past where they could get any traction.
Let’s do this.

Bryce was in his small bedroom, dumping his clothes from a dresser drawer into a canvas tote when Auger came in.

“Don’t do anything until I tell you,” he repeated. Bryce nodded but appeared unconvinced.

“I mean it,” he said firmly. “Have I ever let you down before?”

Bryce took a few seconds, seeming almost to shrug. But then he shook his head. He knew the truth: Auger hadn’t ever let him down before, not really. It was just too much shame to admit.

Callie was dressed and waiting by the front door when Auger came out. Her green eyes glittered faintly with moisture, but he couldn’t tell if she was upset or frightened or what. The hard line of her lips pressed together strengthened him: he knew she was waiting for him to act.

She believes in me, still. After all this.

Auger waited until they were on the sidewalk before he called. Three rings and Winsor’s voice was on the other end of the line.

“I’m busy tonight,” he said haughtily as soon as the call connected. “I will have the car pick you up tomorrow at seven.”

“No,” Auger shot back.

“Excuse me?”

“We’re busy tomorrow,” he lied. Callie squinted suspiciously at him under her raised hand and crossed her other arm protectively over her waist.

Winsor sighed irritably. “Then what is this about?”

Auger took a deep breath, clenching his jaw and commanding his mouth to say the words.

If I manage to make it through this without punching this douchebag in the mouth, it’s going to be a fucking miracle.

“I need to see you today,” Auger growled. Then, to make his point: “
We
 need to.”

“It’s ten thirty a.m.,” Winsor drawled, but Auger could hear the amusement in his voice.

That’s right, you rich jackass. Laugh it up. I want you to think you’re winning.

The line was silent for a few seconds. “Odin, I really don’t think now is a good time—”

“So what? You’re a vampire? No daylight for you?”

Winsor chuckled. Auger imagined him in some kind of white marble palace, just giggling to himself over this. For a brief, dangerous second, his pride coiled and threatened to reappear. He desperately wanted to hang up.

No!
 he commanded himself.
Just a few more seconds. I got this.

“I don’t usually do this, you know,” Winsor finally said. He sighed for a long time as though he was still in bed. “My game. My rules.”

Your game? Your rules? Oh my God, what an insufferable—

“OK, you win, Odin. How can I refuse a Norse god? Get a cab. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Winsor rattled off an address in Lincoln Park and Auger waved down a yellow taxi. Callie followed him suspiciously, obviously not wanting to act happy with him, as usual, but he could tell she was relieved. Just good old Auger, coming in to save the day. Again.

As the filthy cab wove in and out of traffic, Auger tried to figure out why his heart was racing. He swallowed the bile that kept surging up in his gut and scowled out the window.

It’s not like she’s going to really forgive you,
 he told himself.
Not forever. It may buy you another couple weeks and that’s it. Be realistic.

The cab swerved toward the curb and stopped. As Auger slipped a crisp hundred dollar bill from his wallet, Callie’s car door suddenly opened. She automatically got out and he hustled along behind her.

“Oh, that?” Winsor said suavely as Auger stepped out of the cab, staring at the hundred in his hand like it was a quaint artifact. “No need. I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”

Auger winced and stared at the bill, realizing it was probably chump change in this guy’s eyes. Winsor dropped a couple folded bills in the plexiglass bowl that separated the back from the front seat and quirked an arrogant eyebrow in Auger’s direction, then turned to face Callie, effectively cutting him off.

Auger bit back an automatic, possessive snarl.
This is going to be harder than I thought,
 he admitted to himself.
If I make it out of here without knocking him out, it will be a fucking miracle.

“You look beautiful this morning,” Winsor murmured to Callie. Auger stiffened and shook his head, convinced he heard her giggle softly.

“This is weird,” he heard himself say as they all stood in the late morning sunlight. Well dressed couples and joggers strode by on both sides, only glancing at them in passing.

“What’s weird?” Winsor said playfully. He twisted his mouth in a smirk and waited for an answer.

Auger shrugged. He didn’t want to be outmatched for wits before he got in the door.

Better to keep your mouth shut so people wonder if you’re dumb, rather than talk and remove any doubt, my dad used to say.

“Eh, this is business,” Winsor said dismissively and waved his hand. But Auger couldn’t take his eyes off the flush that was creeping up the side of Callie’s exposed neck. By the fluttering skin under her jaw, he could tell her heartbeat was racing and for some reason, it made him want to rip something apart with his bare hands.

OK. Maybe this was a stupid idea after all.

“Coffee?” Winsor asked.

Auger nodded stubbornly. Callie crinkled her cheeks when she smiled and Winsor gestured toward the open wrought iron gate. Auger stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked behind them up the stone path and stoop toward the stained-glass door.

The gate shut with a deep clang that echoed in his mind. Carefully, he kept his pace easy and his posture loose. He felt like an animal being stalked who didn’t want his predator to know he was aware.

Winsor grinned confidently and leaned behind Callie’s back, pressing his palm against a flat grey panel that looked like an intercom. With a click, the door swung open an inch.

“After you,” Winsor purred.

She walked into the front hall, and Auger followed close behind. As he entered the darkened hallway, he waited a few seconds to adjust to the light. Gradually, everything came into focus and his eyes darted over every piece of plaster and wood, cataloguing them.

OK, not a marble palace,
 he thought sourly.
Actually it looks like this guy has taste, or something. Just a little.

The room smelled like sandalwood and oil soap, and every surface gleamed with the reflections cast by the blue and green stained glass. Auger turned in a slow circle, his eyes cast toward the crown moulding and stained glass oculus.

“Just have a seat. I’ll ask Jamie to make us some coffee,” Winsor said matter-of-factly and walked casually down the long hallway next to the curving staircase. As soon as he was out of sight, Callie spun on Auger, her hair flung out wildly from her head.

“OK, just what is your plan here?” she hissed at him. He started back like she had pinched him and held his hands out like it was obvious.

“I’m just getting my money!”

Her eyes flew wide. “Really?” she whispered. He began to wonder if he was missing something. “You think you’re just going to waltz in here and demand twenty thousand dollars from this guy?”

He shrugged. “What. It’s my money, isn’t it?”

“Oh my god!” she moaned, turning around in place.

“He’s not even going to miss it!” Auger protested, but he heard the weakness in his voice. She crossed her arms and kept her back to him, pretending to look at the bookshelves.

Fine. I can do that too. Let’s look at the books, then.

The greystone had been expertly restored, and Auger peered at every detail around with mounting envy. Growing up, his father brought him on jobs fixing up farm houses for early-retirement tech-execs who thought the country life was the pace they wanted. He’d watched his father restore and upgrade a dozen farmhouses he’d bought from your usual old aunties and grandpas, turning them from little shacks into quaint but sleek palaces that didn’t look anything like real country life. Not at all.

And that was how it worked out. The tech-execs almost always abandoned the Millslake lifestyle they quickly found out was deadly boring, leaving behind some very nice homes that could never be resold to anyone with Fox county money. Most of them just sat vacant, their trendy rock gardens and boxwood hedges gradually growing wild. The main town just hunkered down at the cross of two county roads, stubborn and poor, unchanging.

Grinning unconsciously to himself, he walked slowly around the room, appreciating the seamless integration of technology with the hundred-twenty-year-old elegance of plaster medallions and converted gas light fixtures. He understood the workmanship and attention to detail that went into having the mirror above the fireplace re-silvered and all the tiny English tiles restored.

Vaguely, he found himself wondering if he could sneak back to see what had been done with the kitchen. He turned toward the hallway, startled to see Winsor leaning on the wide oak archway, smirking.

“You approve?” he asked, carrying a broad silver tray to the six-leg walnut table by the front window.

Auger nodded gruffly and scowled. “Pocket doors?” he asked clumsily.

“Of course. Cream, Callie?”

“Black is fine,” she said, coming up behind him. She looked at Auger again like she was trying to figure something out or give him a warning. Her eyebrows knitted tight together and her lips parted in helpless confusion.

Why is she staring at me like that? Honestly, I’ve never understood why she can’t just say what’s on her mind, like ever.

Auger felt his chest tightening and continued looking around the room to conceal his jangling nerves. Winsor’s gaze swept back and forth across Callie’s face and figure like a searchlight. She pretended not to notice, staring deeply into the coffeecup she held between trembling fingertips.

“So, Odin…” Winsor started.

“That’s not my name.”

“What— It’s not?” Winsor chuckled. He squinted at Auger’s wide stance and slightly extended arms. “Well that’s too bad. It really suits you.”

Auger accepted the coffee with both hands and backed up against a pillar to drink it. Winsor smiled proudly, as though Auger was a trophy buck he had just shot.

“So what is it then?”

“What is what?” Auger growled.

“Your name?”

He swallowed. “Auger.”

Winsor paused with his eyebrows raised. “Seriously?”

Auger nodded. He looked at Callie, who shrugged and nodded too.

“As in… the tool? An auger is a
tool…
Right?”

Callie laughed, a low, playful bark that made Auger’s skin tighten. “Yes. The tool… the screw…. the drill… He’s heard it all.”

Winsor shook his head and walked to the leather sofa, settling carefully and crossing his ankle over his knee. He smoothed his velvety trousers over his calf and then patted the seat next to him, staring at Callie. She threw a glance over her shoulder before cautiously joining Winsor on the sofa.

Just breathe,
 Auger cautioned himself as his core twitched and trembled. He could easily imagine lunging across the room, snatching Callie back and rushing them both out of there.
Eye on the prize. He’s trying to mess with you.

Eye on the prize.

Twenty thousand dollars.

Does she have to sit so fucking close to him??

“That is a very interesting name,” Winsor said slowly to Callie as she settled in. “I don’t think I have ever heard it before.”

“Me either,” Auger piped up. “My father is… was a craftsman. He always preferred hand tools and said he thought ‘Auger’ had a strong sound to it.”

Winsor nodded, then shifted his gaze to Auger, watching him stand in the middle of the room awkwardly. “I’d have to agree. It does have a strong sound to it.”