“For what it’s worth, I believe you’re a strong, intelligent, capable man who’s been put in an impossible situation.”
Just then, someone knocked on the door, and I jumped. “It’s okay,” Reno said. “It’s just the liquor wholesaler.”
“You sure?”
He nodded and stepped around the bar. “My mom’s been using the same guy for nearly twenty years.”
I turned around and saw a blue delivery van parked out front. Reno let in an old man with a clipboard and a hand cart, and over the next few minutes, they brought in several cases of liquor. I offered to help, but they both told me they had it under control.
Once the guy took off, Reno transferred the sliced fruit to some lidded containers, then began unpacking the boxes and lining up the bottles on the wooden shelves behind the bar. He also kept refilling my beer glass whenever I hit bottom, so I was feeling no pain.
After a while, he said, “I love this song,” and turned up the music. He was obviously making an effort to lighten the mood, and I was more than happy to let him.
He started singing along to “Mack the Knife” and swaying his hips, and I grinned and told him, “You were born in the wrong era.”
“Oh, I know.” He hurried around the bar and pulled me to my feet as he said, “Dance with me, Jack.”
I laughed as he swung me around and went back to belting out the lyrics. I had no idea how to dance to this type of music, but it didn’t really matter. Reno didn’t need me to impress him with fancy footwork. He just needed me to enjoy the moment with him.
A Sinatra song was up next, and he serenaded me with, “The Way You Look Tonight.” He knew every word, and he had a great voice. That was followed by a slower song I didn’t recognize. Reno stopped singing and pulled me close, and I rested my head on his shoulder as we swayed to the music.
When he nuzzled my hair, I looked up at him. We watched each other for a few moments, and then he leaned in and kissed me tenderly. I’d never experienced a kiss like that, one that sent a sensation all the way down to my toes.
I whispered, “What are we doing, Adriano?”
“Honestly? I have no idea. All I know is that I like you, and that being with you feels really good.” He ran his knuckles down my cheek and asked, “Can we just enjoy this, without trying to label or explain it? Everything in my life is complicated right now, so it’d be great to keep this simple.”
I said, “Sure, we can do that,” but there wasn’t anything simple about it. I was falling for Adriano Dombruso, and I was falling hard. I’d never felt like this about anyone before. It was scary and overwhelming, and it was also totally undeniable.
12
Adriano
I really didn’t understand why Jack opted to stay with me instead of returning to San Francisco. He spent the entire day letting me drag him from one place to another, and that couldn’t have been very interesting for him.
We started with lunch at my brother’s apartment, followed by a return trip to the bar to finish getting it back together. In the late afternoon, I had a meeting with my inner circle—the five people on my payroll I trusted the most. I was hoping one of them had some ideas about how to deal with Greco, but ultimately I was left without any solutions.
From there, Jack and I went back to the bar for a while. My mom arrived and rearranged all the liquor bottles I’d set up for her, and she closely inspected the tables and chairs that had just been delivered before finally deciding they’d do.
I left four armed men guarding the bar, two in back and two out front. They were fairly conspicuous, so I hoped that would deter a repeat performance—not that I really expected Greco to smash up the bar again. He’d definitely try to lash out at me, no doubt about it. But by now he probably knew I was back in town, so I assumed he’d try to come for me directly.
That worried me, not because I was concerned for my own safety, but because of Jack. He was constantly by my side, and I hated the thought of him getting hurt if and when Greco finally tracked me down.
Then again, Jack was a survivor, and he definitely knew how to take care of himself. When the shit hit the fan, I fully expected him to run and hide and keep himself safe. Besides, I really didn’t think Greco was just going to gun me down, not when he could have the fun of capturing and torturing me. That meant Jack was probably okay by my side, but I worried about him anyway.
In the early evening, we made a quick stop for some groceries before returning to my house out in the desert. As I set the alarm system, Jack asked, “Do you think Greco knows about this place?”
“No. I think if he did, he would have burned it down while I was gone, just out of spite. I bought it through a holding company that’s impossible to trace back to me, so I assume we’re pretty safe out here.”
He nodded at that, and after we piled the shopping bags on the kitchen counter he said, “You mentioned some clothes up in the guest room closet. I’m going to go change, because I’m getting pretty sick of this same suit and shirt.”
“I’ll take you clothes shopping tomorrow, but help yourself to whatever you want in the meantime. My closet’s fair game, too.”
He thanked me before leaving the kitchen. Once he was gone, I took off my jacket, then removed the holster and gun and stashed them in a drawer. Now that I knew why he had such a negative reaction to guns, I really didn’t want to keep traumatizing him.
I’d finished putting away the groceries and had started on dinner when he returned to the kitchen. He was wearing one of my light gray T-shirts, which was enormous on him, along with a pair of gym shorts, and he looked adorable. I ran my gaze from his bare feet to his slightly tousled hair and grinned. Meanwhile, he scanned the floor, probably on the lookout for another scorpion.
When he sat down on one of the barstools at the kitchen island, I put a glass of white wine in front of him and said, “I’m making pasta primavera with cream sauce. I wanted comfort food tonight, and to me that means carbs. If it doesn’t sound good to you, I can make you something else.”