Stolen: A Bad Boy Romance (9 page)

Kathryn

Janson took the card with the number on it when he left, but what he didn't know was that I'd already copied it into the new phone he gave me. I'd done it the moment Michael gave it to me. It was too important not to.

That number could put my father away forever. That number would get the revenge I longed for. The one that he deserved.

My nightmares would finally end.

Would Janson be surprised if I called? Memories of last night floated into my head. The denial of sight to intensify the senses, the feelings of pleasure mixed with pain. The spanking.

Would he take away the touch that he'd given me? Or would it be more serious? Men in the mob had died for less, and my father made it very clear that he would have anyone in his family killed for being a witness to my uncle's murder.

I'd heard the words come out of his mouth. He didn't give a shit about me.

I had to decide if it was worth the risk. I hesitated as I stared at that number in my phone. If I did this, there would be no turning back. I might lose everything. I might lose Janson.

I wanted him more than anything. Except punishment for my father.

I pressed that number and waited.

Ringing.

My adrenaline spiked. Each ring screamed at me to hang up.

What the fuck was I doing? I was crazy. This wasn't some high school defiance level shit. This was so much more serious.

It might just end in my own death.

"Hello?" the voice on the other line answered. It was a deep voice. Male. And it was more terrifying than anything I'd ever heard before in my entire life.

I didn't speak.

"Hello?" he said again. I knew if I didn't say something he was going to hang up on me.

"Hi. Michael said you might want to talk to me," I said. I was so scared, the shaky quality of my voice immediately gave me away.

They were not lying when they said I had no poker face. I couldn't even fake it over the phone.

This was not going to go well.

I wasn't even going to give my name, not even if he asked.

"Yes, but not on the phone. We'll have to meet, in person." He was to the point.

Shit. That meant going alone. That was even more dangerous.

"Where?" I asked. I was terrified. This shit was serious.

"There is an Italian bakery in Little Italy. Maria's. Meet me there. I'll be the one with the orange pocket square." His voice did nothing to reassure me.

Italian. It was the one place my father would never set foot inside. He respected the Italians who ran their part of the city, but he wanted nothing to do with them. There were strong boundaries.

"When?" I asked as I swallowed. Hard.

"Tomorrow. Can you get away?" There would be another guard "protecting" me then, so I would need to think about a way to escape. I could always climb down the trellis and order a taxi. It was the only way.

"Yeah, I can get there. What time?" I asked. It was going to be tricky, but I knew I could pull it off. I'd always been good at escaping.

"Noon."

Perfect.

Janson

I walked in the door to the smell of home. Or rather, what I’d always wished home would be. I couldn’t identify every single smell that was coming from the penthouse, but I knew that it was good. Savory and warm, it smelled like a feast.

"What is this?" I asked as I approached her in the kitchen, taking in the sight of her. Kat was wearing a sundress with a pink apron over it, and I wondered where she even got it.

"Cooking was a huge part of my teenage years. My mom taught me everything there was to it. So, I thought I would make you dinner. Especially since I cost you your cook."

She meant Michael.

"You didn't cost me anything. A man like that couldn't be trusted, and it was better to know it now than later. He could do so much more damage-" I cut myself off. "But that doesn't matter. What matters is us right now." My voice dipped as I said it.

She smiled and looked at me. "Do you like the outfit? I bought it when I was out with Michael."

"I do. Very much." I wrapped my arms around her waist and bent down to kiss her neck. She smelled amazing. Jesus, Joseph, and Mary. This woman drove me absolutely crazy.

I wanted her. She was in the middle of baking me a feast and I wanted nothing more than to throw her up on my table and fuck her.

I was crazy as hell.

"I've got the chicken in the oven, mashed potatoes are done, pulled out some drippings for the gravy, working on that now."

"What else?" I asked.

"Green bean casserole. I know when you came over, Mom always made it."

"It's my favorite."

"I guessed." She blushed. I forgot that she'd been crushing on me for years. Especially now that I was fucking her. I forgot all of that when I touched her.

But sometimes she reminded me exactly of what she was.

Halfway to womanhood and I was taking advantage. Part of me was repulsed, but the monster in me was delighted. She was all mine to do with as I pleased and I liked it.

Hell, I fucking fed off of it.

"Kathryn, we need to talk." I was measured in the way I said it, but her face fell immediately. I'd already fucked this up.

"You think we should stop this?" she asked. I'd sent the wrong signals. "I figured you were going to say something like that. It's been too nice."

"No. I mean, yes, we probably should. But I don't have any intention of stopping. Not now that I have you," I admitted.

I didn't want to make this a conversation about our relationship, if we even had one at this point. No, this was much more important. It was life or death.

I needed to tell her the plan to get our fathers in jail. I just needed to be smart about it.

"Okay, then what?" she asked. She was at the range stirring the gravy. Watching the way her ass shook just a little while she stirred was too fucking distracting. I walked around the counter and stood on the other side.

Maybe a barrier would help.

"I spoke with Greyson about the little proposition Michael came to us with."

"You did?" she asked. "Is he pissed? Is Michael in danger?"

"Greyson was surprised, but he wasn't as pissed as I thought he was going to be. He thinks it's batshit crazy and wants no part of it." I swallowed. "But he thinks you should do what you need to do. If you can get us from being implicated and if you don't have to testify."

Her eyes flashed, and I knew she was happy. Seeking revenge on her father was really going to bring her happiness.

It was a crazy world.

"I think they'll want me to testify," she said and then swallowed. "Don't you think?"

Ice ran through my veins. It was the very last thing that could happen. At least right now. She needed to be kept safe.

She was mine and I wasn't going to have her put a fucking target on her head.

"You can't. If you do, we'll be forced to put out a hit on you, and I will not let that happen." It was my god damn job to make sure that wasn't going to happen, but it was more than that. I needed her. I wanted her. None of this should've been happening. I shouldn't have been feeling those feelings. But I was.

I was starting to fucking fall for her.

"I can see what I can do," she said. "I also have something to admit.”

"What?"

"I've already been in contact. I'm meeting with the contact tomorrow," she admitted.

"What?" I tried not to let my anger show, but I was absolutely furious. She knew how I felt about this. She knew that I didn't want her even contacting them. And she went behind my back and did it.

It didn't matter that we were going to give her permission, she went ahead and fucking did it without any consultation from me. She didn't give a shit about what I thought.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." I said. I didn't mean to be so damn angry, but I couldn't help it. I'd expected more from her.

She shook her head. "I need to do this. With or without your support. You don't understand," she said as she bowed her head. "I see my uncle's dead body every time I fall asleep. When he was missing, I had to act sympathetic and pretend I knew nothing about it when asked by his wife. His children. They all knew he'd been killed. Probably by the mob. But they never thought it would be our own family. I never thought my father would do something like that to one of his own."

She didn't know her father very well, after all.

Her earnest feelings killed the rage I was feeling at her defiance. They made me see things from her eyes. It was obvious that she was hurting. That she was scared. I knew that. I had to respect it.

"You're right. This is very important to you. But it is also very dangerous, so you need to take precautions tomorrow. Do you understand?"

"We're meeting-" I held up a hand and stopped her.

"Don't tell me. Don't tell me anything. I can't know any of the details. I can't know anything about it. If they question me I have to be able to tell them the truth, do you understand? Right now, the truth is that Michael contacted you, and I sent him away. It was stupid. I'll probably get a beating, but I won't get killed. They'll track him down and kill him. That's all I know, and that's all I can know. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Good, now let’s talk about this dinner of yours. I'm starving."

Chapter Ten

Kathryn

Maria's Bakery. I stared up at it, taking in the sight of it. Little Italy was so close to all of the nice neighborhoods like the Fells Point and Inner Harbor, but there was still a seediness about it that made you want to clutch your purse.

The bakery was the perfect example of that.

It was housed in a stucco building that looked like it needed some work, and it stood out on the corner with a gorgeous mural on the side wall. A woman pulling bread from a brick oven with black hair and a gorgeous smile on her lips. It was the perfect mix of beautiful and sad, especially with the peeling stucco on the edges.

Breathtaking. That was the only way to describe it. It made me want to write an inspired piece for my Violin.

I really missed playing with other people. I’d been practicing alone since I got home from Chicago, but this was the first time I felt inspired.

It was part of what I missed about this city when I was in Chicago. Sure, Chicago had its things, too, but Baltimore was my home. I would never understand the nuances of anywhere else the way I did Baltimore. The hope and desperation. The dark seedy sadness mixed with light and love. It was my city.

And I missed it.

Even if I wanted to deny it, this city would always be my home.

I walked into the little bakery and looked around, searching for the man on the phone. It wasn't until I saw him in the back corner that I gasped.

It wasn't just any contact. It was Michael.

He'd been the federal agent the whole time?

I walked towards the back, my eyebrows furrowed.

"Were you followed?" he asked.

"No." Janson had explained in detail before he left for work just how to spot a tail and avoid one. He had been very thorough, but no one even knew I was in town except his people.

No one followed me.

"I can't believe it's you." I shook my head. How could he? Why didn't he just tell me? So many questions rolled around in my head.

"Well, who else would it be?" he asked. "I wouldn't trust you to anyone else in the bureau."

He looked like a different man with the well-tailored suit and the orange tie to match his pocket square. He held himself differently, though, with more confidence.

"How long have you been working for the FBI?" I asked. I wanted to know how long he'd been betraying my family. What his plans were. I wanted to know exactly who he was.

"We didn't come here to talk about that," he said. He was deflecting, but I wouldn't have it.

"How long?" I asked. I was curious, but I needed him to give me something. Some kind of information that I could use against him if I needed to.

"Since I graduated college. So about ten years. Been with the family for nine," he answered. That was a long ass time. He'd always wanted to betray the family. That had been his goal from the start. So why act now?

"And you aren't from Pittsburgh?" I asked. "Is anything you've told us true?"

"Oh, I am. It's all true. But I've wanted revenge for a long time, Kathryn. Since I was a teenager." He bent his head. "Your family, the family in Pittsburgh. They've all done things that deserve it. You saw your uncle killed. For me, it was my brother."

I could see the truth in his eyes and I wanted to sympathize with him. Hell, I did.

I was sure I was doing the right thing.

"And you won't implicate Janson or Greyson?" I asked.

"The two of them run things with purpose. I know if they had the chance, they would go legitimate. I'm not after them. The organization is not after them. They want James Fitzgerald and Michael Mactavish,” Michael confirmed. “I’ve already negotiated with them for that.”

“What do you need me to do?” I asked.

“We need more evidence.”

“I cannot testify. If I did I would be as good as-”

“Dead. I know. That’s why we need you to do something else for us.”

“What?”

Find out where the evidence is. We can schedule a raid at the exact right time if you do. It will be dangerous and it’ll take some time, but if you do that, we won’t need you to testify.”

“That means I have to go home.”

He nodded. “It means you’ll have to eat crow to your father and act as though you are the good girl he wants you to be. Do you think you can do it?” he asked.

I didn’t know if I could, to be honest. But I had to try. “When?” I asked.

“Not yet. I’ll let you know when.”

“What kind of evidence am I looking for?” I asked.

“Anything that would connect him to embezzlement, or murder. Anything that would put him away,” he explained.

I nodded. It was a fucking lot to ask and we both knew it. But I’d signed up for it. I wanted to make sure that I was the deciding factor in my own future.

A future without James Fitzgerald.