Page 32 of Ruthless Sinner
Marco snorted with laughter. Vincent didn’t take his eyes off me. I tried to keep my attitude light. If Vincent suspected that there were other reasons why I knew so much, he’d probably be able to find out my true identity. Not that I thought the FBI did a lazy job of protecting its undercover workers but because Vincent Russo was supposedly that good. And I didn’t doubt he actually was.
“Marco said that the guys who jumped him were probably Russian. Everyone knows the Russians are your biggest rivals. You don’t have to be working at the strip club long to know that much. So you’re trying to set something up with the Chinese.”
“Something along those lines, yes,” Vincent said carefully. “I knew strippers were a lot smarter than people liked to claim but you’re something else, Miss Kennedy.”
I had a feeling he’d be looking into me. I just had to hope that whatever this plan was, and his own wedding, would be enough to distract him for the time being. If all went well, by the time Vincent Russo figured out who I really was I’d be gone, back to my old life, and preparing to clap him in irons along with the rest of his family.
“You couldn’t let me in on any of this?” Marco demanded.
“This isn’t something to talk about in front of… non-family,” Vincent said.
“Screw you. Kennedy’s been more family to me than you and Dad have been for a while. If you trusted me at all you would’ve told me what you were planning.”
“And risk it getting out? Everyone knows you talk too much in bed, Marco. I trusted you to deliver these packages, that should say plenty already about my faith in you.”
“Did you think I was too dumb?” Marco snapped. “Too dumb to understand how to keep my mouth shut, or to understand what game you were playing?”
I quickly stepped in between, my hands up. “Okay, I think tempers are getting a little heated and I’m not sure that anything productive is going to be said. Vincent… I’d like to ask you to leave. Let’s all calm down, take some time, and come back to this tomorrow, all right?”
Vincent stared me down. I stared right back. I tried not to look like I was angry or challenging him, just calm. Like he couldn’t ruffle me.
My heart beat wildly in my throat. You didn’t really get to stand up to Vincent Russo and walk away in one piece, or at least, that’s what everyone said.
Finally, Vincent looked away from me, to Marco. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”
He turned and walked out, the elevator doors sliding silently shut behind him.
I looked over at Marco, who ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going to take a shower.”
For a moment I was confused. Take a shower? After that? Why?
Then I looked at his eyes and saw how red-rimmed they were, thought about how tight his voice had sounded. And I thought about how much pride a Russo man must have.
I waited until I’d heard the shower running for a little while and then I entered the bathroom, stripping down and slipping into the shower.
Marco was facing away from me. I saw his shoulders stiffen, knew that he knew I was there, but he didn’t turn around.
I wrapped my arms around him from behind and rested my cheek between his shoulder blades. I could see his injury, a bit pink from perhaps rubbing or whatever had been done at the doctor’s office, but otherwise looking the same as it had last night, the stitches intact.
I had no idea how long we stood there like that, with me holding him. I was painfully aware that this could’ve been the wrong move—that he could have ordered me out,kickedme out, for invading during such a private and vulnerable moment.
But he didn’t. He just let me hold him until he was finished.
Marco turned around. I didn’t say a word, I just took his face in my hands and kissed him.
Something in him relaxed, I could feel it, and his hands settled gently at my waist to kiss me back. This wasn’t a prelude to anything. I wasn’t going to initiate sex, and I didn’t think Marco was, either. It was just… kissing. Sweet and affirming.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d kissed someone just for the sake of it.
We rested our foreheads together. “Thank you,” he said at last. His voice was soft.
“It’s what I’m here for,” I told him, and the words burned my tongue. Partially because they weren’t true. Partially because they didn’t feel like a lie.
CHAPTER13
Marco
Ididn’t wait around for Vincent to come back to my apartment. The next morning while Kennedy was still asleep, resting after her shift the night before, I went to Vincent’s office.
