“We were together years ago, and it just shook me to see her in person again.”
“Oh,” Nicoletta said and looked down. Her lower lip trembled. Fuck.
He reached over for her hand. “We didn’t work out for a reason.”
Nicoletta nodded, not looking up.
“I’m a cop,” he slurred. Fuck he was drunk.
“I don’t get it,” she said.
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his palm.
Maybe he should wait to have this conversation when he was sober. Otherwise, he might say something he regretted or that hurt her feelings. She didn’t deserve that. But she did deserve an explanation. And she deserved it now, not later.
“I’m a cop. That means my duty is to enforce the law, right?”
Nicoletta nodded.
“Well, Gia…let’s just say she doesn’t always follow the law.”
“I don’t get it,” Nicoletta said, frowning.
Of course, she doesn’t, James thought. Which is partly why he was with her. She was so confident and arrogant on stage in her role as an opera star, but when it came to being a woman in the real world, she was surprisingly helpless. For some reason, it made him feel more masculine to be able to take care of her. He wanted to protect her and keep her safe.
“Are you saying she breaks the law? Like steals?” Nicoletta asked.
“Worse.”
“Worse than stealing?”
He didn’t answer.
Nicoletta’s eyes widened. “Has she killed someone?”
Dear Lord Jesus. What in the hell was he supposed to say to that. Of course, Gia had killed people. That was entirely the problem. In most cases, it hadn’t been her fault. They were self-defense? Or were they? That was the problem. He never really knew 100 percent if all the murders had been necessary. Of course, Gia had thought they were necessary. But…
“James?”
He jumped. He’d been lost in thought and hadn’t answered her question.
“I’m drunk,” he said. “I think I need to go to bed.”
He turned and began to wheel himself into the house.
“Oh, honey, I thought we could…you know?” She gave him a sexy grin.
He smiled back. “I’m so drunk. How many of those did you pour me?”
She shrugged. “I feel fine.”
He blinked.
In the bedroom, he hauled himself out of his wheelchair and into the bed. The room was spinning.
Nicoletta climbed on top of him and began to undo his pants. He grinned at her but then gently pushed her away.
He could barely keep his eyes open. What was going on?
The next thing he knew, the covers were being pulled up to his chin, and he felt Nicoletta’s soft, silky hair brush his face as she leaned down and kissed his forehead.
“Sweet dreams, James.”
Twelve
He was slouched in his favorite armchair at Nicoletta’s Richmond District apartment sipping cheap whisky.
It was fine, he told himself. Soon, he would only drink top shelf. This was temporary.
Everything was going as planned.
Then the door opened. It was Nicoletta, home from that cop’s house. She’d promised she’d be back before midnight. She’d come through. He wondered how she’d talked the cop into letting her leave?
She wore a filmy beige dress. He could see her huge nipples through it.
“Oh, baby, I missed you so much,” Nicoletta said, walking in and stretching languorously, her large breasts thrusting against the fabric of her dress. “Seeing you today across the room and not being able to kiss you and hold you killed me. I got James drunk so I could come home early.”
“I’m so glad you did,” he said. “It won’t be much longer. And then we will be away from this cold, gray city and can do whatever the hell we want whenever we want.”
He walked over and poured them both drinks.
He handed one to her and downed his. Then he plopped back in the chair, spreading his legs, watching her through slit eyes.
“I can’t wait, baby,” she said in her little girl voice. She stood in the middle of the room holding her glass. She was so damn sexy. She took a small sip of her drink and made a face. He laughed.
“Put it down.”
She did, then stood there, waiting, compliant as always. Uncertain. Even though he would do anything she wanted, she always wanted him to boss her around. She made him feel like a true man. Nobody had ever made him feel like Nicoletta did, not even the love of his life, his dear departed wife. In Nicoletta’s eyes, he was powerful and manly. She loved when he was in charge. She liked being bossed around. And yet, she was still a strong woman in her own right.
“Come here,” he said in a gruff voice.
She came and stood before him. She was trembling. He loved that. It made him feel like he was debauching her, even though they’d fucked hundreds of times. That was what was so magical about her—fucking her was always fresh and new. It never, ever got old. He could imagine them old and gray, still horny as fuck for one another.
He smiled and reached for her, bending down to lift the hem of her dress and pull it entirely over her head.
“Good girl.”
He’d told her before to never ever show up at his place with underwear on. He liked imagining her walking around naked underneath her dresses while he was the only one who knew. It turned him on.
He dipped his fingers in his whiskey and rubbed her nipples. She threw her head back and moaned.
He reached down and found her sopping wet. She was always wet, but this was something else. She moaned louder as he touched her.
He watched her eyes start to close in ecstasy.
“I found our next victim,” he said, and her eyes snapped open. “I think it should be Jackie Fong. That hospitality group bitch.”
“I have an even better idea,” she said.
He grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her over to the bed. He set her down on the edge and dipped his head between her legs.
She lifted his head. “Don’t you want to hear
