Packing Heat(25)

I couldn’t actually get her pregnant. I couldn’t actually do that.

Then again, I wouldn’t mind it. I didn’t want a fucking kid, but I sure as hell wanted to feel what it was like to be inside her so badly I could barely breathe.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I really did need to get Cassidy pregnant to save both our lives.





13





Cassidy





I woke up early, shaken and confused. The messages on my computer kept ringing in my eras, although they were really just green text on a black background.

I couldn’t figure out what was right. I felt trapped in the middle of something, getting pulled in multiple directions. There were the Spiders, the mob, and Rafa. Things were happening around me, but I didn’t even know the players in the game.

I made myself some coffee and sat cross-legged at the kitchen table, sipping the strong black liquid, trying to feel a little more human. I was exhausted and grumpy, and I really didn’t feel like getting back to work, even though I knew I needed to.

As I stared at the wall, willing my life to suddenly improve, my phone started ringing. I nearly jumped out of my chair.

“Hello?” I said, picking it up and answering without looking at the ID.

“Hello yourself.” It was him.

“Rafa. Uh, how’s it going?”

“Better now that I’m talking to you. What are you doing?”

“I’m drinking coffee. It’s, like, nine in the morning.”

“I’m swinging by to pick you up.”

“What? Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About American Idol.”

I could practically see his cocky grin in my mind. “Funny. When will you be here?”

“Five minutes.”

“I need more time to get dressed.”

“Dress fast, girl. I’m coming for you.”

He hung up the phone. I sighed, tossing mine onto the couch. I took another sip of coffee and had to decide what to do.

I could ignore him and stay where I was, or I could rush and get ready. I didn’t know what he wanted or where we were going.

I got up and went into my bedroom, my mind made up.

I quickly threw on some clothes, a pair of short jean shorts, a cute top, and some white low-top sneakers. I brushed my teeth and washed my face, tossing my hair up into a messy bun.

He knocked on my door almost exactly five minutes later.

“Come in,” I yelled.

I heard the door open and shut. He walked through my apartment, and I watched him appear at the bathroom door.

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked, you know.” He smirked at me.

I bit my lip. He looked so damn handsome in his perfectly tailored suit.

“Why so dressed up?” I asked.

“It’s a fucking mob thing. Something like a dress code.”

“You guys have a uniform?”

He laughed. “Not exactly. But we do like to show off our money.”

“Classy.”

“What can I say. I’m a class act.” He crossed his arms. “You ready?”

“I’m ready.”

“Come on.”

I followed him through my apartment and out the front door. We headed downstairs. I noticed that he was looking around as we went, almost like he was paranoid.

We went out front and got into his black muscle car. He turned the engine on, letting it roar to life.

“Where are you taking me so early in the day?” I asked him.

“You’ll see.”

I sighed. “No. Come on, don’t be vague with me, not right now.”

He laughed. “You like a little mystery.”

“I think I’d rather know.”

“How about you sit back and imagine my hands between your legs. Let me worry about where we’re going.”

“I’m not worried, and I’m not picturing anything.”

He pulled out into traffic, grinning, and I wanted to slap that smile off his face, or maybe take advantage of his offer. I felt crazy riding along with him like this, but I also felt safe.

We drove through downtown and headed toward the western part of the city.

“So, how did you end up in the mob?” I asked him.

“Boring story. I was a poor kid growing up. Dad was a piece-of-shit alcoholic. Mom was a meth addict. He died in a car crash; she died of cancer.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be. I’m better off without them. But I found the mob to fill the void. Helps that I like the work.”

“So you enjoy being a criminal.”

“Something like that.” He glanced at me. “I enjoy being my own man.”

“I can appreciate that.”

“Maybe what I do is illegal, but I make my own fucking choices.”