Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Clara

"Would you like to donate to feed hungry children?" I asked, thrusting the box in front of Mr. and Mrs. Besk. I wondered what she would do because she often donated when her husband wasn't there. I had been on the fence about whether or not to pay them a visit because of that—if I did, I would make sure her things went untouched.

Mr. Besk could stand to lose a little cash, though this was his chance to decide the amount.

He snorted, brushing me aside.

"If they want to eat, they should work for it."

Very well. He had chosen poorly.

I watched them walk away. Mrs. Besk turned to look over her shoulder, a miserable expression on her face as she mouthed the word ‘sorry' to me. I smiled at her reassuringly and waved. It wasn't her fault her husband was a tightwad.

Not just a tightwad, either. He was a philanderer, and she deserved so much better. His unfaithfulness gave me an opportunity I wouldn't have otherwise, though. I didn't have to steal from him and affect her in the process. I could just take from his mistress. Miss Rebecca Greyson was a flighty and self-involved singer with more tits than talent and a penchant for married men. Mr. Besk had gotten involved with her recently and a splendid ruby necklace had appeared around her throat during her last performance.

I hoped she was enjoying it while she had it because she wasn't going to for much longer. And Miss Greyson was absolutely the type to demand another bauble from her benefactor.

"What are you doing out here?"

A shiver went down my spine. I hadn't been paying attention, and for once, Gio had managed to truly sneak up on me. Still, I had too much pride to let him see it.

Turning around with a smile on my face, I pushed my box at him.

"Would you like to donate to feed hungry children?" A request and an answer, all in one. I was good.

Gio stared down at me, his expression as unreadable as ever, before he reached into his jacket and pulled out a wad of cash. He dropped it into the box without even looking to see how much it was, and I blinked. That was unexpected.

"Um, thank you." I smiled up at him, a much more sincere smile than before. He didn't smile back.

"It's getting dark." There was a heaviness to his statement, as though I was supposed to infer something from it.

I raised my eyebrows. "Yes?" Because it was true, it was getting dark.

He sighed, a deep, heavy, hefty sigh.

"It's getting dark, and you're standing out here with a box full of money."

"Yes, it is, and yes, I am." I understood what he was getting at, but I also could tell that my nonchalance was getting under his skin, and that was far more fun than telling him I'd been about to head home.

He sighed the most aggrieved, frustrated sigh I'd ever heard out of a man, and it was all I could do not to laugh. There was just something about driving a confident, ball-busting, self-controlled man to such a sigh that tickled my fancy. I enjoyed knowing I'd rubbed his nerves raw.

Consider it penance for all the times he'd stopped by my room to watch my sleep.

"I'm walking you home. Let's go."

Well, far be it from me to argue. Though I knew what I was capable of, and I had my gun tucked in my purse, there was something to be said for being able to relax during the walk. No one was going to bother me with this big brute by my side.

"Oh, thanks," I chirped happily, wondering how annoyed I could make him by the time we reached Mrs. Cunningham's boarding house. "And thank you for your generous donation."

"How often do you do this?" he asked. One of his hands moved up to the small of my back, as if he was guiding me through the streets, and I tried to ignore the little tingle that went through me.

"Collect money for charity? At least once a week." More than that, but I was only out on the street once a week asking for donations. The other nights, I engaged in something I liked to call ‘forced contributions.' Because some of the city's wealthiest citizens were a little too tightfisted, and a lot too uncaring, to give as much as they should.

I might not have minded so much until my cousin became an accountant, and I found out how many of them weren't paying their fair share of taxes, either. They bent the laws, they curried favors from the politicians, and they hid their money without thinking twice about it. I'd decided to even the odds a little bit, and in my opinion, the city was better for it.

Granted, the elite grumbled, but if they weren't so greedy, I would have never thought of it. They'd rather hoard money than feed children, and that made them the problem. I stayed away from those who actually used their money to help the community… except the DiNardos.

Hailey's mother-in-law was very involved in charities, but… well… Gio ticked me off sometimes. And I was also annoyed at Jack for being part of strongarming Hailey into a wedding she hadn't wanted at the time. She was happy now, but I was already annoyed at Gio, so…

Besides, I never took anything they couldn't afford. Just enough to be a nuisance and to give myself a little thrill.

"Are you going out tonight?"

"No, I'm going to stay home and be snug as a bug in a rug," I replied cheerfully, which made him grunt. Was it my imagination, or had he relaxed a little at my pronouncement? It seemed he worried about me, which was very sweet—if such a word could ever be used to describe Gio. "Why? Did you want to take me out?"

He ground to a halt so fast, I took several steps and was beyond him before I realized he'd stopped. Turning, I cocked my head, giving him my best coy look while he stared at me like he'd never seen me before. Truthfully, if he had asked me out, I would say no, but my little bit of sass had such an unexpected reaction that now I had to follow up on it.

"Oh, that's not what you meant?" I pouted at him, only having to feign my disappointment a little. A smart girl said no to a date with a mobster, but that didn't mean I didn't want him to ask.

Yes, I was a conundrum wrapped in a mystery.

His gaze darkened, and I sucked in a quick breath, suddenly aware I had stepped onto dangerous territory.

For a big man, he moved fast, coming at me in a rush, and I stumbled back in surprise. He caught me, one arm around my back, one holding my bicep, and only the box between us kept our bodies from pressing together. I stared up at him, heart in my throat, all too aware of how vulnerable I was. Even if I wanted to shoot him, I wouldn't be able to get into my purse in time… and to be honest, I didn't want to shoot him.

I wanted to kiss him.

I was just afraid it wouldn't stop with a kiss.

"Do you want me to take you out?" he asked.

Clamping my mouth shut to keep the wrong answer from popping out, I stared back at him. After a long moment of silence, he chuckled, then released me.

"Good answer." Spinning me around, he placed his hand on the small of my back again, propelling me forward on the street. This time, I didn't try to resist or get sassy with him.

Before he left me at Mrs. Cunningham's door, he looked down at me, and I thought he might kiss me then… but he didn't. And I didn't know if I was relieved or disappointed.

* * *

Gio

Clara stayed on my mind all evening long, even though she'd claimed she wouldn't be going out anywhere. Part of me didn't believe her.

There were no more thefts from any of our product or cash that evening, which followed the pattern, which was the lack of pattern. The thief seemed to be taking things in rotation, going around as he pleased but without rhyme or reason. Large cash nights might be ignored, nights with fewer guards go quietly, then something would go missing again.

My uncle was getting angry. Not because the amount was all that detrimental—it was about the insult. I needed to find the thief and set an example before my uncle decided an example needed to be made out of me for being unable to catch the culprit. This thief situation had been going on for too long, and I knew it.

The best idea I'd had was to set a trap for the thief, which was going to be an exercise in frustration until he actually showed up, but the end result would be worth it. There was only one pattern that I'd discerned—he either went for our booze or our cash, and he usually preferred the cash. Therefore, I was going to make sure the cash remained heavily guarded… and I would watch the booze myself.

It was going to mean some long nights and giving up on watching over Clara, which made me want to howl like a predator protecting its meal. Especially after finding out the foolish girl walked home alone, in the dark, at least once a week, holding a box of cash. Our men already knew not to bother her, and I'd put out the word to keep an eye on her, but that didn't mean she was completely out of danger.

Anyone could happen upon her on the street and decide they wanted the money she was carrying—or that they just wanted her.

Knowing it was probably the last time I would be able to do so for a while, I flitted down the street to her boarding house, keeping to the shadows, watching for signs of movement. There were none. It was a quiet neighborhood, which should reassure me, but at the moment, nothing made me feel better. There was an itch on the back of my neck, which I knew was from having to leave Clara here unguarded. Unwatched.

But the Family came first, especially over a woman I had laid no claim to… and did not intend to. I had pushed the bounds of what I could do as far as I could, aided by her relationship with Hailey, but unless I was going to make her mine, there was nothing more to be done. And I hadn't decided if I was ready to pursue that path yet.

I went through the hallway, down to her room, and eased the door open. There she was, as angelic as ever, curled up in her bed. Ghosting into the room, I quietly closed the door behind me and moved next to the bed to look down at her. She looked so sweet when she was asleep, not at all like the sassy spitfire I knew her to be.

Her blonde curls and creamy skin gleamed in the moonlight that filtered in through the window, ivory against the crisp white of her pillow. Sweet pink lips were parted as she breathed deeply. As I watched, she rolled onto her back, arm draped across her belly, turning her head slightly, so it was face up, like Sleeping Beauty asking for a kiss.

Like the prince in Grimm's fairy tale, I felt myself drawn inexorably forward, pulled in by her beauty.

Knowing it was the last time I'd be able to check in on her like this until the thief was caught propelled me to foolishness. Instead of standing beside her bed, I found myself reaching out, my fingers curved, drawing the back of my forefinger over her cheek.

Her eyes popped open, lips parting on a gasp, and I quickly covered her mouth with my palm, leaning over her. She started to move—then stopped… relaxed. Like she somehow recognized me in the darkness.

"Shh," I murmured.

Now that I was touching her, I was unable to resist. I pulled my hand away from her mouth, only to move it to her breast, and when she sucked in a quick breath of air, I covered her lips with my own to muffle any noise she might make. The softness of her breast underneath the silkiness of the nightgown, the feel of her lips against mine, had my cock hardening so fast, I was nearly dizzy from the effect. The pert bud of her nipple pressed against my hand, I shifted so I could pinch it between my fingers, rolling it through the silky fabric of her gown, and she whimpered against my lips.

I should go.

I knew I should go.

But wild dogs couldn't tear me away from her now.