11. Matt

ELEVEN

MATT

"The food smells good."

Was I changing the subject? Why yes, yes I was.

Ranger wanted information, but I'd been intending to interrogate him . In the back of my mind, I was still going to expose The Obsidian Circle as the degenerate, slimy mobsters they were. But now that I was with a high-ranking member of La Luna Noir, maybe he'd give me dirt on Dane and co. Assuming I was still alive and could access my findings.

Meeting Ranger had put an obstacle in front of my plans. Sure, La Luna Noir were gangsters, and the mafia's MO was extortion, fraud, and racketeering for starters, plus murder if they didn't get what they wanted. That was Ranger's world, and I couldn't let lust blind me to who he was.

And damn him, he wasn't making this easy.

He was sautéing onions and adding garlic, and I was salivating. From my perch at the kitchen island, I got the perfect view of his ass. Shame it was no longer encased in tight wet denim, but the robe was pulled tight across his butt. He couldn't have been wearing any underwear, because when he bent over, the terry fabric outlined his cheeks and butt crack, and suddenly the room got very hot.

Gods, I was such a fool. First there was my harebrained idea of infiltrating a deadly mafia gang ‘cause I wanted to see my exposé headlining newspapers and on a news channel ticker tape.

And now I was ogling my captor's butt.

In my defense, it was a gorgeous ass, and his cock, which if I'd been on my knees in the bathroom would have poked my eye out. It was magnificent, a thing of beauty, and it deserved to have lips wrapped around it or be shoved in a slick-filled hole. Not mine, though. Nope, some other omega's.

Ranger's voice disturbed my inner monologue. "Onion, garlic, and herbs, a powerful combination."

I'd add his unique aroma that still smelled vaguely of eucalyptus. Or maybe that was my hand.

Ranger tossed the cooked pasta and peas into the onion and garlic mixture before dousing it with olive oil, more herbs, and serving it in two bowls.

"You want?" Ranger held a block of pungent cheese and a grater.

"Sure."

If anyone had peeked in the window, they'd have seen two guys enjoying dinner and chatting. But while Ranger had his brother and mafia cohorts to support him, I was alone. I couldn't even phone my brother.

Damn. Josh. I had to find out if he was okay. What a shit I was for forgetting about him.

"I need you to do something for me." I picked up a fork and spoon, but the hand Ranger had bitten was slimy from the oil and still a little sore, and I winced.

"Sure. I can do that." He pulled up a stool. Twirling the fork with strands of spaghetti in the base of the spoon, he offered me the fork. "Open wide."

I parted my lips automatically because that was what a person on the run did when a sexy mobster offered them pasta. What was wrong with me?

Yum. A combination of a few simple ingredients produced a delicious mouthful, and I needed more.

"Thanks," I mumbled as a strand of spaghetti escaped and dangled from my lips. Using a finger, I flipped the pasta into my mouth and licked my finger. Yikes, something was wrong with Ranger. He was all dewy-eyed, but it might've been a reaction to the garlic.

"Are you all right?" Perhaps he should be sniffing the eucalyptus.

He blinked, and his eyes swiveled left and right. "Yes. I'm fine. Never been better."

Wish I could say the same. Damn, once again I'd forgotten Josh. I was the worst brother of all time.

"I need help."

He scooped up more pasta and went to feed me again.

"Not with eating." I caught his eye and attempted to muffle a laugh, but it escaped. "My brother, Josh. I want to make sure he's okay."

"Oh, he's your brother ."

I side-eyed my captor. "Who did you think he was? My boyfriend?"

He shrugged. "But I thought his name wasn't Josh."

My body betrayed my embarrassment by sending a flush creeping over my cheeks. Damn, I wasn't very good at this secret-identity business. "Ummm, yeah." I screwed up my face. "You're not going to hurt him, are you?"

Ranger sat back, the spaghetti still wound around the fork. "Why would I do that?"

"Isn't that what the mafia does? You know… rough up people?"

"No!" His one-word answer rang out around the room despite the bluster and fury of the storm outside. "You've got us all wrong."

I snatched the fork from him and shoved the food in my mouth. "Excuse me. You're mafia, mobsters, bad guys, a crime syndicate." This pasta was so good. I ate another mouthful, my anger at Ranger and the mob he belonged to fueling my appetite.

He got up, pushing the stool back with such fury, it tipped. But his outstretched hand grabbed it, preventing it from toppling over. Not only did he bite people, but he had super-speedy reflexes.

"How'd you do that?"

"Do what?" He had his back turned and was washing his hands at the sink.

"That was impressive how you caught the stool. You must work out a lot."

"Mmmm, that's it. I do." His voice had a faraway quality, and I reasoned his mind was no longer in the kitchen, though he did say the drain was partially clogged.

But once again, I'd gotten off track. "Josh, I told him to get out of town and stay with an old school friend."

Ranger turned, leaning back against the sink, and folded his arms. "Why'd you tell him that?"

Shit, why couldn't I recall where I'd met Hawk? Not that it mattered now.

Hmmm, was there any point in lying? "When we stumbled into your headquarters and Hawk recognized me and then you were in my face, I insisted Josh leave the city."

"That was smart. Shame you didn't follow your own advice."

The spoon and fork fell from my grasp and clattered onto the marble island, Ranger making no move to pick them up with his supersonic reflexes.

"Yeah, silly me. If I'd flown the coop I wouldn't be eating a delicious dinner with the guy who abducted me."

Now it was Ranger's turn to get red. But his cheeks weren't kissed with a blush. Instead, a hot angry flush spread over his face.

"You agreed to come with me. People who are abducted are taken against their will." He stamped his foot, and I expected him to say, "So there."

I narrowed my eyes and mumbled under my breath, "If there was a dictionary at hand, I'd check the definition of abducted."

"I'm sure there's one in the study."

I mentally added "an acute sense of hearing" to his traits.

"Or you could use your phone."

Of course. I went to grab it but remembered we'd removed the chip.

"I can't."

"You can't," he parroted.

But what about Ranger's phone? If Dane could track my device, he could do the same to my captor's.

"My phone is secure." He must have read my mind, and he pulled out his device. "Did Dane ever meet your brother?"

"Do you think I'm stupid?" I reconsidered what I'd said. "Don't answer that."

"I don't think that at all." The anger had vanished from his voice. "You're very capable, just not used to the way the world… or our world works."

He was talking about the dark, cheating underworld that I'd caught a glimpse of with Dane.

Josh's number was the only one I knew off by heart, and he answered on the first ring. I jumped right in as his display would show as an unknown number.

"It's me, big bro. Are you safe from the storm?"

"It's good to hear your voice, Matt. I've been calling you, and I was worried when you didn't pick up."

"Dropped my phone in the water. It's dead," I fibbed, though I'd never be able to use either my real phone or the one I had for Dane again.

"Are you at home?" he asked.

"I'm with a… friend, but I'll call again when the storm passes and we can have dinner."

My eyes were awash with tears because I'd either have to move to another country or go into witness protection. I might never see my brother again.

"Take care, little brother. I love you."

"Love you back."

My dinner forgotten, I stared at the phone and wondered why I didn't tell Josh I'd been kidnapped. And then I came up with all the reasons why I hadn't. Because that would put him in danger. Or he'd think I was exaggerating. Or he'd believe me and call the police and that might lead to Dane finding out where I was.

"You both said I love you." Ranger sat on the stool beside me and pushed the pasta around in his bowl. "I don't recall my brothers and me ever saying that to one another."

"You don't love one another?" I licked the olive oil and herb mixture from my spoon, marveling at how different his family was from mine. But mafia was the family.

"No one has ever asked me that. We love our dad, and we respect one another. I suppose that's love. Yes, we do."

"Maybe you should tell your loved ones that. You never know what life's going to throw at you."

His head shot up, and he opened his mouth but snapped it closed without speaking.

What had he been going to say?