LaylaIn the week since Vanessa’s attack, I’d been to visit her every day after work.I’d nestled her into a one-bedroom condo in Aldo’s safehouse, just a few blocks from the hospital. It was fully equipped and furnished, but the first night, I’d still brought back takeout.The way she’d dug in, I k
“Did you ever find a place you belonged?” I asked, resisting the urge to reach for her hand. Instead, I reached for my wine, and she mimicked the gesture.“I thought I had …” She drained the glass, and I lifted the bottle to refill it. “But I was wrong. Turned out, it was just another man who wanted
LaylaAs the weeks passed, the clinic began to take shape. We had rooms and cots. Bandages and antiseptic. Food, water, shelter. So much to offer, but the one thing we lacked were patients.“How is anybody supposed to find out about this?” Vanessa asked from the kitchen island, where she sat behind
AldoEthan and I had parted from our last meeting on uncertain terms—he unwilling to give me what I wanted and me unwilling to meet his demands.And yet, here we were.Back in the same cafe. Sipping our coffees while we stared each other down. Each lost in our own swirling thoughts, assumptions. Fea
AldoBack in the sprawling den of the Marcello estate later that night, I checked my phone for the thousandth time. Naturally, Ethan hadn’t texted. It wasn’t like I expected him to unearth anything groundbreaking in a few hours …“All right, spill,” sighed Carlo.“What?” I looked up from my phone to
Ethan wouldn’t see it the Batman way, of course. Wouldn’t be any more on Rossetti’s side than mine—he was a man of the law—but when it came down to it, Layla was right.Ethan wouldn’t label Rossetti a hero, but I’d never be more than the vilest villain in his eyes.“We don’t know what Rossetti’s gam
EthanI rubbed the sleep from my eyes, reached for the paper coffee cup for the third time before remembering—also for the third time—that it was empty.Dammit.The printed text of the case files sprawled across my desk was starting to blur before my eyes. Probably the dim lighting didn’t help; the
LaylaThe knock on my bedroom door startled me from the book I’d been daydreaming over. Why was romance always so much easier in novels? Any fights they had were always petty and over in a few chapters.I sighed, closed the book. “Come in!”Vanessa’s dark hair appeared around the side of the door. H
AldoThe Marcello estate hadn’t seen a night like this in far too long. Since Layla and I had wed on this same lawn—nearly a year ago now. How had it been so long? How had time passed so quickly?And more importantly: How had we been married for so many months, yet shared so few moments like this on
I was late to Eli Marcello’s party. But I was also on the hunt, and as a cop, one of those things definitely took precedent. Eli’s party would go on for another several hours. And he’d be ten for an entire year after that.But I’d found a clue, and I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to follow it.I was
One week since I’d given the order.One week since I’d unleashed the Marcello family on the streets of New York with orders to take no prisoners.One week since I’d declared war on the Rossetti family.I sat at the head of the long table, trying to force myself to eat.The rest of the table’s occupa
The estate bustled with movement: Marcello men arming themselves, strategizing, talking shit, waving proverbial fists at the enemy, posturing, preparing for war … All the things men did. But still, they awaited my command.I stood at the head of the table in the grand dining room, where a makeshift
Fear.Shit.“Where is he?” I demanded.Carlo jerked his head toward a nearby room. “The doctors are with him now. It was bad, Layla. The explosion took out half the building. We were lucky to get him out alive.”I nudged past him and into the room.Aldo lay on the hospital bed, his face pale, a deep
LaylaAldo had missed another dinner.Or, rather, he was in the process of missing it. I sat at the head of the long dining table, where he’d normally sit; for some reason it felt wrong to leave it vacant. Beside me, Eli pushed food around his plate with his fork, and on his other side, Vanessa lean
EthanI, once again, found myself at the precinct long after the rest of my desk-mates and cohorts had vacated for the night. I mean, the police precinct was never truly empty—it was New York City, so the place was always hopping—but the difference between day shift and night shift was, well. Night
EthanI got to the coffee shop far earlier than was necessary—close to an hour before Vanessa and I had decided to meet—and proceeded to sulk in the corner like a loser, downing coffee.I’d long since stopped smelling the fresh-baked goods layered behind the glass counter, and I was far too nervous
“But I’m funny and charming,” Ethan said, with a smile that was indeed quite charming. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for not being able to resist.”I groaned, trying very hard not to smile myself. “This is the worst flirting I’ve ever seen.”“It’s not flirting!” Ethan protested, lifting his hands in