21. Marco

Chapter 21

Marco

V alentina's on my couch when I get home late that night. She's got some spaghetti Western playing where everyone's shooting each other but nobody seems to actually die. I grab a beer and sit on the couch, and she gives me a look from the other end, her legs tucked up underneath here.

"Where have you been?" she asks, sounding more curious than anything else.

"With a girl. Don't you have your own apartment?"

"Yours is nicer." She sits up straight. "You were with a girl?"

I take a nice, long pull on my beer. "Yeah, I was."

She laughs and turns off the TV. I knew she'd react this way and I've been dreading mentioning stuff with Laura to her, but Valentina's my best friend. Eventually, she's going to find out that I'm seeing someone.

If I can even call what I'm doing with Laura seeing someone . It's more like consensual stalking. I broke into her house, started a minor crisis on her family's property, and kissed the fuck out of her before running away. It's a minor miracle that I'm not dead, but still.

Things are changing with her. I can feel it, and I think Laura can feel it too. Whatever we're doing, the game isn't as important as it was before. I crave being close to her, tasting her, feeling her hands on my body, watching her chest rise and fall as she sucks in air. I want to tell her who I am so fucking badly, but I know the moment I do, things will go wrong.

And I don't want to lose her.

It's selfish, I know, but it's how I feel.

"I met her at the Bianco thing I crashed a few weeks back." I watch Valentina's reaction, but she only seems eager for more. "We've seen each other a few more times since then."

"I'm honestly shocked. I never in a million years thought you'd get involved with someone. I mean, how do you have time for a girl when you're practically married to the idea of bringing down the Bianco Famiglia?"

"I'm not that obsessed," I say, staring down at my beer, because I know she's right, and I'm also very aware that I'm the biggest fucking hypocrite in the world.

"You are, but it's okay. You have every reason to be." She gets up from the couch and walks to the refrigerator. "I mean, I hate them too, right? They killed my dad, and they did the same thing to your parents. You've been living with this feeling for a lot longer than I have."

She cracks open a beer and watches me. I stare back at her from across the room. We haven't talked about our families in a while, and I've liked that better. Valentina's pain is still fresh and raw, while mine has been simmering deep inside of me for years. Mourning turned to rage, which turned to resentment, and that's how I ended up finding Luciano Santoro, the only man in the world that seemed like he could oppose the Biancos.

Now our shared tragedy binds us together.

"I can still have a life outside of revenge." I finish my beer and lean back on the couch.

"What's her name?"

I close my eyes and consider lying, but I can't do it. "Laura."

"And you like her? I mean, is this thing serious, or are you just getting your rocks off?"

"It's serious," I say and realize that's very true. "But we're taking it slow."

"Slow is good." Valentina laughs softly to herself. "Did you know my dad wanted to marry me off to one of the Bianco brothers? He talked about it a few times, anyway, and it nearly happened. Can you imagine what my life would be like?"

"You'd be trapped in one of those houses." I picture Laura's place with its clean floors and the beautiful art on the walls. "It might not be so bad."

"I like this." Valentina walks over and sits down on my couch. "We've got a good thing going."

I stare at her as she turns the movie back on. She takes a long pull from her beer, and I realize that I haven't seen her out having fun in a really long time. Mostly, she's here, eating my food and drinking my alcohol, or she's back home sleeping and showering before coming back over. We work together, and she's deeply involved in my plans, but she doesn't have a life outside of what we do.

That didn't seem like a problem until now.

Valentina falls asleep on my couch. I cover her in a blanket and leave her there. She'll get up in the morning and find her way home. I think about sleep, but I can't make myself lie down—I'm too wired from sneaking into Laura's house and kissing her earlier. Instead, I log onto my computer and check to see if my backdoor into her camera system still works.

Relief floods me when the image of her living room streams onto my monitors. I flip to her basement, to her upstairs, and tunnel into her laptop. Her room's dark, and I hear her breathing. I'm about to log out, when she rolls over and bumps against the keys. "You're watching me, aren't you?" she whispers, sounding only half-awake.

I'm smiling to myself as I send her a text.

Jackal: You were snoring.

"I was not," she says and sits up. I can see the outline of her in the darkness of her room. Hair falls down around her shoulders, and one shoulder of her oversized shirt slips down. Fuck, she's beautiful, and I wish I could be there with her right now, but the mask would only get in the way.

Jackal: I was worried I might not be able to see you.

"Security sweep was intense," she admits. "It's a good thing you left. My brother was really pissed."

Jackal: Any guesses who was behind the attack?

"They don't tell me that stuff." She yawns and stretches. "Why are you still awake?"

Jackal: Couldn't sleep.

"You thought it would be a good idea to creep on me instead?"

Jackal: You left your laptop open and on your bed. I wonder why.

"I never said I didn't want to be creeped on." She lies on her pillow and stares into the camera. Her screen's black, and I'm tempted to send her an image. Just me as I am now, wearing a black t-shirt and tight joggers, no mask, nothing covering myself. Just me.

But that can't happen.

Jackal: You promised me something earlier and never delivered. Maybe I'm sitting here, thinking about how it would have felt.

"Yeah? Tell me more." She rolls onto her back and I watch her chest rising and falling. And is that… fuck, yes, her hand's between her legs.

I shift my joggers down and start to slowly stroke myself as I type with one hand. It's not fucking easy.

Jackal: I'm thinking about you on your knees with my cock in your mouth. You'd moan, because you like the way it tastes. You'd suck me nice and slow, getting my shaft and tip all wet and sloppy, as your tongue slides all around. I'd tell you to put your hand between your legs, because I want you to moan while you suck me off.

"Oh, god," she whispers as she reads my message. Her hands work under the covers, and she lets out the most gorgeous little moans I've ever heard. "I want that. God, I want you here with me right now, your big cock in my mouth. I'd gag on you and that wouldn't stop me. I'd let you fuck my face, then my pussy, then you could come wherever you wanted." Her back arches as she gasps and moans.

Jackal: I want to come on your tongue, baby. And I want you to swallow it all. I'm going to make you ride that big dildo again, but this time, you'll suck me off as you do it. Then I'll fill you with my cock as you come, and I'll leave you a messy puddle of moans and cum when I'm through with you. I want to make you sweat, baby, and make you moan, and make you scream.

I stroke myself faster, growling with bliss, and she's doing the same thing on her end. I wait for her to come, back arching, making these incredible mewling noises as the orgasm rushes through her. I let myself finally release, biting back a growl, only aware of Valentina in the other room as I finish.

"Jackal," Laura whispers. She rolls onto her side and I watch her lick her fingers clean. "Just like you'd ask me to. I wish you were here."

Jackal: Good girl.

Jackal: I wish I was there too.

Jackal: Goodnight.

I have to log off. Watching her lick her fingers, listening to her tell me how much she wants me to be there with her, it's destroying what little resolve I have left.

I need to tell her who I am. It might ruin what we have, and she might not want to see me anymore, but I have to take that chance.

I wake up early the next morning. Valentina's still sleeping, which is exactly the biggest surprise in the world. I head into the kitchen and make myself some coffee, and I'm groggy as I log into Laura's camera system on my phone. I flip from spot to spot, but she's not in the basement or in the kitchen, and she's not anywhere in her room where her laptop can see her.

Jackal: Are you hiding from me, little demon? If you go where the cameras can't see you, I'm going to break into your house and install even more.

I hit send and smile to myself as I start on breakfast. The only surefire way to get Valentina's ass off my couch is to wake her up with bacon. Anything less and she'll lounge around until noon.

The bacon's sizzling nicely, but there's no response from Laura. I check the cameras a second time, and everything's exactly as I left it. I linger on the laptop feed and stare at the room: her bed is made and I can tell her shower is still damp. Which means she's awake and showered already, but it's only a little past eight in the morning.

Where is my girl going?

I'm too curious. I grab my laptop from my office and set it up on the island as I cook. Since I hacked her phone and cloned its SIM data, I can tap into her tracking information. It only takes a few minutes for my automated programs to start spooling data onto my screen, and a dot appears on a map of Chicago. I zoom in, frowning, and zoom in again, and a cold, sinking feeling fills my body.

That can't be right. I double-check the information, triple-check, go over every little detail, but nothing changes.

Laura's phone is inside my building.

I can't tell where she is exactly. The tracking doesn't give me that much detail. I'm on the top floor, and she could be anywhere nearby. But that's not possible—there's no way she knows that Jackal lives here.

I've been careful. She hasn't seen my face. And even if she did, that wouldn't necessarily give her enough information to track down where I live. My head's spinning and I forget all about breakfast until the smell of burning bacon fills the kitchen. I yank the pan off the heat, cursing, on the edge of panic.

Valentina's sleep voice floats in from the living room. "Are you cooking? Smells like it burned."

I'm about to tell her everything's fine when someone knocks on the door.