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My body twinges again, lust trying to grip me, but I need to be distant and cold today. I’ve got a plan. Thinking about this will heat me up when I need to be ice. Later, Colt, I reply. I won’t be leaving the office today. You can go now, but I’ll see you later, okay?
Later, he says, but I need to be upfront. I can’t promise not to lose control. I could see you wanted me, too, in those perfect, mismatched eyes.
Another shimmer blasts through me as he drives away. He’s right. I’m aching for him. Something deep inside is screaming that I’ve just ruined it. But, no, Ralph. I need to think about him, about the plan. Last night, Mia called me. I guess that’s the sort of thing naturally social people do.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she giggled. “Why?”
“You’re calling.”
“Retro, right? Listen, I’ve got an idea. I was thinking. We can trap Ralph.”
She told me her plan. I had to admit, I thought it was a good one. So that’s what I need to focus on. Later… My body tries to heat up again when I think about his muscles throbbing through his gym clothes, his eyes burning into me, his hair glistening like it would catch on fire.
“Later,” I snap under my breath, then reach for the car door.
CHAPTER 12
Colt
I drive, shaking my head at myself. I handled that like an idiot. Ever since last night, it’s like something’s triggered in me. Fighting will do that to a man. I feel alive and ready to be with my woman—my Lexi. My blood is pumping through me, hot with battle, making it harder to resist her. I ache for her right now.
Later. That’s too long. I’m relieved when Luca texts me. Meet Elio and me at the gym in thirty?
I drive down, doing my best not to think about Lexi, staring up at me with her mouth open like she was ready for a kiss. Or ready for me to slide my shaft into her mouth, over her tongue, letting her taste every inch of me. Focus. My dick is getting hard again. I want to hold her so badly. Then let my hands sink into the thick perfection of her body, smooth up to her tits, playing with her big juicy nipples.
“Focus,” I whisper, grinding the steering wheel.
At the gym, I find Luca skipping rope. Elio’s at the heavy bag, hitting it so hard the whole frame shakes. He has good technique, is fast, swings his hips into the movement, and maintains his stance. I glance at the round timer—one minute—and walk over to the side, waiting.
“Been at it already today?” Luca laughs as he skips the rope, nodding at my gym clothes.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I grunt.
Once the round ends, Elio grabs a towel and turns to me. “I thought it’d be good for us to get to know each other better, Colt.”
I nod. “I guess I expected this.”
“Luca told me you had some experience with snakes.”
“Yeah, in Vegas,” I tell him. “Back before I knew what they really were. Then I…”
Elio nods, wiping his hair. “I know what happened to them. People say it was the Cartel.” Elio stares at me, and I get the implication. He needs to know the truth. He doesn’t want me to come right out and say it, but he has to know for his Family.
“People say all kinds of things, but if a man knows what he’s doing and a man was a Green Beret and always felt like a Beret even after the legal fighting was done, then maybe a man like that could make it seem like any damn thing he wanted.”
Luca nudges Elio, smirking. “Relax, brother. Colt’s legit. I already told you what happened.”
“How did that make you feel?” Elio says, still watching me.
I stand up straighter, looking him in the eye. “Not a damn thing.”
“I don’t believe you,” Elio says. “I think you liked it, Colt.”
“What difference would that make?” Luca snaps.
“I heard other stories about Vegas. A young woman who?—”
“Dammit, Elio. This is what you were going to bring up? Listen, I can’t tell you, but I’ve already squared that. Colt told me everything.”
Elio tilts his head. “But you can’t tell me?”
“He did the right thing,” Luca says stubbornly, “but that doesn’t mean he has to share his business.”
Elio narrows his eyes and seems to accept this. “I’ll trust Luca on this,” he tells me.
I nod. “With all due respect, if you told me I couldn’t do this as a Marino, it doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be getting done. The Serpents are animals.”
“The Shanks,” Luca mutters. “The Serpents. I hate their names. The Marinos… That’s a name. Serpents make them sound corny.”
“It didn’t seem corny in the desert,” I say, “when men used to hiss at girls late at night, mocking them and reminding them a Serpente wagon could pull up at any time.”
