He doesn’t mean that. I hope.
“Goodnight, boss.” And then, because apparently I have waved goodbye to my final scrap of self preservation, I add, “Good luck with checkers.”
Santo’s explosion of rage cuts off with a beep. The room is extra quiet, echoing with the mob boss’s words, and I hold the phone loosely by my side, ears ringing and head pounding like a drum.
It buzzes again in my hand, and I send it to voicemail.
Santo will get over it. Probably. And in the meantime… at least we’re hundreds of miles away.
* * *
Allegra’s voice is soft and beseeching, drifting through the safe house walls. I pause where I’m reading in bed and strain to listen. Did I dream that? Am I hallucinating her now?
“Raul,” Allegra calls again, soft and coaxing. “Will you come here for a second? I don’t feel well.”
I’m out of bed before my next breath, the book tossed behind me on the covers. Didn’t even mark my page.
Tomorrow. We said we’d continue our… exploration tomorrow.
Is she really ill? Fuck.
The safe house hallways are carpeted and quiet. My bare feet pad past spare rooms and a shadowed bathroom on the way to Allegra’s door, the painted wood sealed tight.
“Uh.” I rap on the door, wincing. There’s a rustling sound inside. “Everything okay in there?”
Allegra starts to reply, then breaks into a coughing fit. I nudge the door open, stepping into her dimly lit room.
She’s bundled up in her double bed, so small under the covers. With her dark hair tied up in a messy bun and a black tank top clinging to her form, even while she’s sick, Allegra makes my mouth go dry.
“You’re not feeling well?” It’s a relief to be able to slip into doctor mode. This, I know. This, I can handle. The faint floral scent of Allegra, lingering in the air, on the other hand… I inhale sharply before sitting on the edge of the bed. “Tell me your symptoms.”
Allegra coughs, weak and scratchy. “I feel hot.”
Pale blue eyes gleam as they watch me, and I rest the back of my hand against her forehead. Nothing. She’s a little flushed, maybe, but that’s all. I try her temple next, then the side of her throat.
Hm.
“What else?” I say, suspicions already half-confirmed.
“I have this cough.” She demonstrates against her elbow, dramatically feeble, then grabs my hand and presses it to the center of her torso. She draws it down her warm, tight body, arching under my touch, and her smile is so sly. “And my tummy feels all squirmy.”
I lean back, exasperated, because I’m one more ‘symptom’ away from a heart attack. I’m also so hard in my pajama pants, I can barely think. “Allegra.”
She catches my wrist as I move to leave, and nods at the clock on her nightstand. “Wait. Look, doc. It’s tomorrow already.”
I inhale sharply and glance at the clock face. Three minutes past midnight. Fuck.
“The brandy…”
“Was only a few mouthfuls, and it was many hours and two bowls of linguini ago.” Allegra sits up higher, the covers pooling around her waist, and I glimpse a sliver of thigh. “Come on, you big prude. Did you mean what you said earlier or not?”
Did I mean it? That I want her?
Yes. With every atom of my being, yes.
Allegra laughs brightly as I crawl onto the bed, crowding her against the headboard. “Prude?” Her breath stutters when I catch her wrists, pinning them above her shoulders. “Don’t forget who you’re dealing with, sweetheart.”
“The golden boy,” she murmurs, and that is not what I meant, but she rocks up and kisses me, and every thought flees my brain. I kiss her back, savage and hungry.