The Gun Runner(5)
“New Girl. You seen that shit?”
Mentally, I rolled my eyes. “No.”
“Try it. That guy Schmidt is funnier than fuck.”
“I work until eight, get coffee, eat and work out until eleven. When do you suggest I watch Netflix?”
He reached for the money. “That’s the good thing about Netflix. You can watch that fucker whenever you want. You can watch a whole year of shit in one weekend. Start, stop, pause, fast-forward, rewind, you got it all right there at your fuckin’ fingertips.”
“Don’t think so.”
He ran his thumb along the edge of the bills. “Hey, there’s two here.”
It was the least I could do considering the trouble he went through. “One for the delivery, and one for defending my best interests. Keep this between you and me. I’ll try to look into it without raising too many eyebrows.”
“Appreciate the extra,” he said.
“I appreciate your devotion, Cap.”
He turned toward the door. The moment he reached the threshold, he stopped. “I ain’t likin’ the thought of the fuckin’ mob messin’ with us. You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m golden. Why?”
“Just surprised you didn’t snap.”
I had a reputation for having a quick temper, something Cap had seen firsthand on many occasions. I thought of my altercation in the parking lot of the Starbucks and laughed to myself. I felt it best I keep the incident to myself. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”
“Good to hear,” he said over his shoulder with a laugh. “But I ain’t buyin’ it.”
As soon as he exited my office, my mind went not to my work, worries of the mob, or Cap’s beating a man and leaving him in the parking lot of a gas station. It drifted to where it had been almost all day.
Terra.
Considering the possibility that Agrioli and his men may be attempting to infiltrate my organization, the last thing I needed to be thinking about was a woman. Dismissing her, however, had proven close to impossible. She was gorgeous and she had courage. The combination was undeniably attractive.
I glanced at my watch. It was an hour before I normally left, but since my day had quickly turned into a shit sandwich, staying and maintaining focus would be difficult at best.
I looked around the office, decided my ability to continue was nil, and called it a day. A cup of coffee would relax me, and a two-hour-long workout would exhaust me. A good night’s sleep should follow, and then I could simply begin a new day.
A cup of coffee, meal and the exercise would allow me to forget about Agrioli for a night.
But I had no idea what I was going to have to do to clear my mind of Terra.
And I didn’t really know that I wanted to.
Chapter Three
Terra
Based on my limited experience, I believed all men to be inconsiderate assholes. If there was a socially and morally acceptable way to have sex without the annoyance of a boyfriend, I sure would have given it a try.
Following Michael’s display of gallantry, I changed my mind. Now filled with a newfound belief that only Italian men were assholes, I sat at the coffee shop in hope of seeing him again.
Only to come up with nothing.
Two consecutive unsuccessful mornings later, and I decided to try the night shift. He said the coffee shop was his new place, so I didn’t believe my wide-eyed stares out the window were all for naught.
Several hours and six double lattes into the night, and I’d already spent close to $4,000 in a caffeine-induced NET-A-PORTER online shopping spree. With my heart beating a hundred times a second and every hair on my body feeling as if it were standing on end, I released a heavy sigh and closed my laptop.
I walked to the trash can and dropped my half-full cup into it. One more sip of coffee and I would undoubtedly die of a heart attack at twenty-four years old. As I walked back to my seat, the headlights of an approaching car caught my attention. A hopeful glance out the window as it turned into a parking stall caused my heart to race and my palms to go sweaty.
A black BMW sedan with a personalized plate. TRIPP.
I ran to my seat and frantically opened my laptop. After fumbling with the on button for an inordinate amount of time, I peered through the window and into the parking lot.
Dear God.
I could easily get lost in simply watching him walk. Dressed similarly to the day we met, the only real change was the color of his clothes. Now wearing a navy-colored suit and no tie—but with the same confident swagger—he walked up to the door and pulled it open.
I stared straight ahead and tried to get the computer past Starbuck’s product page and to a website of some sort. I wanted to appear preoccupied, but I needed it to at least seem real. As NET-A-PORTER’s website came into view, his calming voice made me tingle all over.