A Debt Owed-A Promise Made Read online

  He held a bought and paid for position. He was the son of somebody important. She’d stake Braxton’s life on the fact.

  “Well?” she asked, running out of patience. “You do understand the question, right?”

  Snickers slipped into the heart of the room, bouncing off the four walls with a beautiful pronouncement of mockery. The color washed out of Mamazza’s cheeks.

  “Why? Are you interested?” he asked, regrouping quicker than she’d first thought he might.

  “Hardly, but call me curious, or outright nosey. Take your pick. Have you ever had sex?”

  “Sure, dozens of times.”

  “I doubt that but just so we’re clear, you have had sex, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “With a person?” she asked, further taunting him. “I mean manual action and close calls don’t count here. We aren’t discussing horseshoes.”

  “Do I strike you as somebody who’d come close without scoring?” He gave her a hard look, moistened his lips, and with a guttural growl, added, “What the fuck do you think?”

  “Watch your trash mouth around me. A yes or no reply will do. There’s no shame if you haven’t.”

  “What’s your point?” he bit out, apparently tired of playing her game.

  “If you’ve had sex then surely you know from experience, love—in its many forms— is a beautiful thing,” she said, feeling philosophical. “One can fall in and out of love with choice lovers more than once in their lifetime. A physical connection strengthens a natural bond regardless of what it is. You know what I’m saying?”

  “Sure,” he grumbled.

  The rookie didn’t have a clue.

  “After I betray my current lover and hand him over to the asshole behind me, I’ll need another lover. I prefer younger men. Now, do you follow me?”

  Billy cleared his throat. His cheeks were flushed, turning redder by the second.

  She got off on this kind of control, particularly when she held an audience captive. Mind games were her favorite choice of weaponry. “Well?”

  “Well what?” he snapped.

  “Have you seen enough?” She moved her fingers down the V-opening of her collar, careful to stroke her silk shirt with the pads of two fingers while eyeing the rookie’s crotch again.

  She should’ve been on Broadway. A career in acting would have beaten the hell out of playing with overgrown spoiled children posing as intelligent agents.

  “No,” he replied, lust likely pumping through the poor pup’s veins.

  “Good,” she remarked, making a decision then and there. She could use Billy. If he continued to eat out of her hand, she could manipulate him however she chose.

  She wheeled around and faced Braxton, seeing no reason to further torment the rookie. Besides, she had better plans for the new kid on the block. “He’s on the inside with me. Starting today, he’s my cousin.”

  “What?” Billy screeched.

  “You don’t want to work with me?” she asked, facing him again and deliberately puckering her lips in a formidable pout.

  “No, I mean yes, I mean—”

  “You mean what, Mamazza?” she asked, losing what was left of her patience and knowing damn well he didn’t have a problem working alongside her. His issue was with the role in which he’d play—that of a family member.

  “Where would Mamazza fit in exactly?” Braxton asked. “Your family is Irish, not Italian.”

  “I cleared that up for you earlier,” Harry said.

  She glanced at Harry, but didn’t ask for specifics. Instead, she explained, “He’ll be introduced as my mother’s cousin. Mom is Sicilian and as it turns out, Mr. Mamazza here could almost pass for one of her nephews. I probably have some baby pictures of a cousin he could pass for if I’m pressed for proof.” She took a deep breath. “But I won’t be.”

  Billy sat a little straighter. His smirk was deviously delicious, and while Brooklyn had a real hang-up for Italian men, she’d already warned him.

  She didn’t have any use for inexperienced boys with holstered toys. Men who knew how to use drawn weapons, however, were another story.

  Chapter Three

  One Week Later

  “Damn, girl!” Billy exclaimed. “You run in the right circles, huh? Now I see why you deserted the badge, abandoned an upstanding career, and gave up fucking agents in exchange for screwing thugs.”

  “We’ve already discussed the F-word. Use it again and I’ll give you something to holler about.”

  Billy shot her a sideways glance. “You can make me scream anytime you’re ready, doll face.”

  Biting back curse words, Brooklyn pulled through the iron gates. Dante’s guards motioned her through and didn’t bother to stop her even with Billy seated right next to her.

  When this was all over, she planned to have a talk with Dante. Security personnel should’ve questioned her about her guest. At the very least, they should’ve studied the newcomer. Instead, they just propelled their arms in a circular motion and didn’t give them so much as a second glance.

  She waved to the gardener as he chucked a handful of weeds in a large bucket. Then, they continued up the winding driveway.

  Billy leaned forward, gazing up at the house. “This place is like something you’d see in Hollywood. Did you live here when you were married to Martino?”

  “No,” she replied. “My husband preferred a simple life regardless of what you’ve been told to the contrary.”

  “Braxton claims our guy makes more money than he spends, claims he’s conservative to a fault.”

  “Agent Marshall doesn’t know Dante like I do,” she informed him, wheeling the sports car sharply to the right and parking steps away from the front door. “And Dante isn’t our guy. He’s mine.”

  “Possessive little wench, aren’t ‘cha?”

  “You have no idea,” she whispered, wishing she didn’t care about Dante as much as she did. She could better protect him if her heart didn’t already hold a vested interest in the man. To make matters worse, she’d brought this hell down on him. She had to make it right before something bad happened to the best man she’d ever known.

  Billy started his annoying habit again. He gaped at her breasts and made an irritating grunt, a throaty noise that sounded as if a golf ball lodged between his throat and his lungs.

  “If you don’t stop staring at my boobs, I’ll break both of your arms. If I don’t, Dante will. If you like your limbs, or any other dangling body part for that matter,” she paused and stared down at his dick, “I suggest you heed my friendly reminder.”

  Billy snorted. “Always so tough, huh?”

  She killed the engine.

  “Why are you so cynical?” he asked, studying her.

  “Why does it matter?”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t make a damn to me. It’s not like I’m the poor bastard who’ll interrogate you after this is all over. Internal affairs will have a heyday with you.”

  “Internal affairs?” she asked, deliberately lifting a brow. “You are green aren’t you?”

  “What-the-fuck-ever. I know what I’ve heard from the top. You’ll get that psych evaluation everyone seems to think you need. Then, you’ll have the retirement you mistakenly thought you’d earned. Everyone says so.”

  “Name everyone,” she said, unwilling to let this die.

  He frowned. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah,” she said, not one to buy in to a bunch of he-said-she-said bullshit. “Who?”

  “Well uh, I uh, I don’t know, just everyone.”

  “You?”

  “Why hell no,” he replied, placing his hand on the lever in an attempt to leave the car.

  Brooklyn slapped her hand around his forearm, holding him with a tight grip. “You’d better pay attention and listen closely, Billy. I don’t know how you landed in that meeting room or whose ass you kissed from the ground up but where I come from, a rookie doesn’t land where you are without family connections or sleeping wit
h the right people.”

  “I’m not fucking Braxton.”

  “I didn’t figure you were,” she said, sniffing in an attempt to conceal a grin. After regrouping, she said, “You get this right from the start. Do you hear me? If you mess up, if you slip up, Dante will be all over you. Do you understand?”

  “I’m not afraid of Dante.” His blue eyes sparkled with a hint of green. “His brother wasn’t indispensable. Dante doesn’t walk on water either.”

  Brooklyn swallowed. Immediately she thought of Martino. The man she’d adored, the man she’d given up her career for, and nearly her life, was no longer with her. She couldn’t do anything to save him. Then again, she’d never really protected him in the first place. She hadn’t been able to save him from himself.

  In many ways, Billy was right. Martino had mistakenly believed he had enough power and money to ensure he would survive any battle, any war.

  Realizing she’d zoned out, she jerked to attention and chose not to address Billy’s remark about Martino. She refused to discuss Martino with anyone other than Dante.

  “Just remember what I told you. You’re my mother’s nephew and you’re visiting from Miami. You’ve lived all over the world which is why your accent is indicative of several native tongues without any clear distinction to give away a specific locale.” She wanted Billy to believe he was on the case, but she had to talk to Dante today. She had to tell him what was going on before he developed his own suspicions.

  “Hmm,” he rasped, his gaze taking a nosedive again.

  “Good Lord. You’re a horny bastard, aren’t ‘cha? From now on, I’ll dress like a prude.”

  He rolled his tongue over his bottom lip. “Women like you don’t hide what they have. Flaunting your assets will keep a man on his toes.”

  “Quit staring at my breasts,” she told him harshly. “I work with professionals, not man whores.”

  “I’m offended,” he said, slapping his palm against his chest. “Besides, you like it when I watch you. Admit it.” He waggled his brows. Then, he pointed to the house. “As for professionals, I have no doubt whatsoever. You align yourself with the best in the business regardless of which side you’re on.”

  Brooklyn quickly digested the accusation. She knew which side she represented. She’d always known where her loyalties rested, but she could understand why Billy would think differently. On the outside looking in, her allegiances must’ve appeared one way when they were certainly another.

  “Don’t screw up,” she grumbled, leaving her BMW convertible. “You’ll understand more in a few seconds.” She walked to the front steps. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she addressed him again as he left the car. “I’m not an available woman, Agent Mamazza. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”

  The front door opened about the time Billy stepped to the rear of the BMW. Dante immediately met her with a loving embrace, tilting her chin higher so he could plant a sensual kiss upon her lips. After he gazed into her eyes for a moment, he nodded his head in Billy’s direction. “Who’s the boy?”

  Billy was probably grinding his molars so she’d give him a minute to process the scene, perhaps gain his bearings. His ego needed the spanking.

  “Family,” she replied, framing Dante’s face and kissing him again. Rather than settle for a peck, she drew him into a full-throttled kiss. Her tongue slipped over his and fluttered inside his mouth.

  As they greeted one another properly, she became aware of the rising hunger. Brooklyn hadn’t seen Dante in a few days and the distance had only driven home what she’d recently begun to accept.

  She was in love with Dante. She was one hundred and twenty-five percent, all the way in, and willing to do anything to protect him, everything she could to save him.

  Dante winked when she released him. “That wicked mouth will get you in trouble.”

  “I hope so,” she crooned, stepping away from him.

  Dante stared down his nose at their guest. “You didn’t introduce me to the kid.”

  “Stop being rude. I called and told you to expect company. Billy is mother’s nephew.”

  “Where is your mother?” Dante asked, eyeing Billy as he tugged a suitcase from the trunk.

  “At home with Ariela,” she told him without making eye contact. By now Ariela and her mother were in a safe house with good old Harry looking out for them.

  Dante immediately looked like a changed man. His face beamed. His eyes sparkled with keen awareness. Awakened with that possessive, and quite carnal, male presence, he slapped her bottom then grabbed a handful of hip. “You bring me a man in place of my sweet niece Ariela? What’s wrong with you, woman?” A husky sound fell from his lips.

  A thud landed on the sidewalk. She eyed the three pieces of luggage Billy had slung at her feet.

  “Watch where you throw those bags,” Dante said, that authoritative voice gaining substance. He watched their guest for another moment as Billy ducked his head and retrieved another bag. “Didn’t you tell me he was adopted?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “No blood ties then, huh?” Dante’s speculative reply sparked her curiosity and for some unexplainable reason, ignited her arousal.

  Her pulse quickened. Her heart thumped a little faster than in the previous minutes.

  “Brooklyn?”

  “No, none,” she bit out.

  Dante looked away as if he wasn’t at all aware of his effect on her, as if he meant nothing inappropriate by his subtle implication. Perhaps he didn’t. Maybe her interpretation presented the real problem.

  No, she knew better. She’d heard the stories. She’d been previously warned by the countless other women who’d once occupied the often empty space in Dante’s bed. His past girlfriends weren’t the only people telling tall tales.

  Prior to his death, Martino had confided in her about Dante’s eclectic sexual preferences. Right after Dante’s longtime girlfriend left him, Brooklyn had questioned Martino. At the time, she had demanded to know why Martino took the woman’s side. Martino’s reply had been simple, yet surprising. He’d said, “I wouldn’t live with the sick fuck. I can’t expect a woman to live with him.”

  As it turned out, the gal didn’t want to participate in threesomes. At the time, Brooklyn had been intrigued, she’d fantasized about it, even took time to look up positioning and threesome relationships on the internet.

  “Don’t look so worried, love,” Dante looped his arm around her waist and drew her to him once more. Lowering his forehead to hers, he whispered across her lips, “I wouldn’t ask you to do anything you wouldn’t want to do.”

  Stilled by Dante’s lips brushing across hers, she searched his eyes while acknowledging the silent accusations her memories stirred. “I know.”

  Dante had now lived up to his reputation and Brooklyn understood what he wanted. She easily translated the deliberate implication.

  Martino had been right. His brother possessed certain desires and expectations not just any woman would accept, let alone try to fulfill.

  Until that very moment, Brooklyn had always believed the rumors were untrue. She had no reason to think otherwise. Dante had never asked her to do anything some women viewed as inappropriate.

  Then again, she was about to introduce Billy as family! Was this some sort of test?

  “Introduce your cousin,” Dante demanded, his black eyes immediately concealing the limited mischief noted two seconds before.

  She motioned for Billy. Even though Billy was Italian, his first name didn’t characterize his heritage. Concerned about the potential for flub-ups, they decided to keep Billy’s real name and tell Dante he’d been adopted late in life.

  “Dante, meet Billy.”

  The agent extended his arm and shook hands with the man he likely viewed as the worst of criminals. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I was very fond of your brother.”

  Dante’s gaze held Billy’s for a second longer than the norm. “You knew my brother?”
<
br />   “Very well,” Billy said, quite convincingly. “We played poker together whenever he was in Sicily.”

  Oh fuck! What the hell is he thinking?

  Dante swung his gaze to Brooklyn. “I imagine the kid beat him?”

  “No,” she replied, forcing a smile. Billy put himself in this mess, he could gamble his way out of it.

  Dante shrugged and refocused on Billy. Undoubtedly, he meant to size him up.

  Brooklyn closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. If Billy didn’t know how to play cards, he was about to learn why bluffing whales in dangerous waters was as deadly as surfing in shark-infested seas.

  “Perhaps we’ll play this evening,” Dante said, reaching for Brooklyn’s hand. “What do you think, love? Should I call some of the fellas and invite them to a card game?”

  Brooklyn felt a sudden punch in the stomach. If Dante wanted to play cards with Billy, then he’d take him into the study where only Dante and his associates gathered at night. She wasn’t allowed in there.

  Dante’s mother had once told her, “When the door is shut, don’t go near the room. When the world is locked out, the players inside risk it all in high stakes. Not only are poker games played, but sometimes old scores are settled.”

  “Brooklyn?” Dante spoke her name and jolted her back to the present.

  “Yes?”

  “Didn’t you hear me, sweetness?”

  “Oh uh, yes, you wanted to know if you should have a card game tonight.”

  “Well?”

  “Billy is really tired. He’s—”

  “Do you follow professional poker?” Billy asked, interrupting her and addressing Dante.

  “I do,” Dante replied. “In fact, I plan to play at the World Series of Poker this year.”

  “Oh yeah?” Billy asked. “I may go and watch you play.”

  Now the rookie had gone too far. Dante didn’t warm up to outsiders. He’d only mentioned a card game so he could sum up the young man staying in his home.

  Evidently Billy thought he’d quickly secured an invitation into Dante’s private life. Next, he’d expect the security access codes and keys to the front gates, too.