White Knight (Dirty Mafia Duet, #2)(18)

“Thank you,” I tell her with a smile as Cannon’s grip tightens on my hip. “I really appreciate that.”

As we leave the desk, I glance up at him. “I’m surprised you didn’t try to slip her some cash to get her to talk.”

One side of his mouth quirks up and there’s a gleam in his gorgeous eyes. “Did you want me to?”

“No, but . . .” I reach for his hand and weave our fingers together.

“You’re the most capable woman I’ve ever met. You had everything under control.” We pause at the revolving glass door, and a burst of fresh air blows by with each new guest that enters through it. “But if you ever want me to jump in, all you have to do is give me a sign.”

“I think I just fell in love with you all over again,” I whisper just loud enough for him to hear over the voices in the lobby.

He pulls me tighter into his side and leans down to brush his lips against my cheek. “If that’s all it takes, I’ll have you falling in love with me all over again every damn day.”

“Can we go back to your place now?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light, but really, I just want to climb him like a tree and show him exactly how I feel about what he just said.

“Damn right. That’s where we’re heading next.”

But as I slide into my seat in the town car, my purse starts buzzing.

Jesus Christ, Mom. Your timing blows, I think as I fish it out.

But it’s not my personal phone with my mom’s number on the screen. It’s Randi’s number on my Drew Carson cell.

I flash it at Cannon as the driver pulls out into traffic. “What do I do?”

“Answer it.”

With a swallow, I tap the screen and lift the phone to my ear. “Randi?”

“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, or why you looked different at the restaurant tonight, but you need to get home. Your apartment door is kicked in.” Her voice, in true Randi fashion, is loud enough that Cannon can hear her too. “I called the cops, but who knows how long they’ll be.”

“Fuck,” he whispers and then rattles off my address to the driver. “Tell her we’re on our way.”

“I heard him,” Randi says. “And you owe me a fucking explanation, Drew. Seriously.”





13





Cannon





To her credit, Memphis doesn’t ask the question, “Who would break into my apartment?” I think we’re both well aware that her very existence is sending up red flags all over the city.

“It’s going to be fine. I promise,” I tell her as we pull up and she reaches for the door handle.

“I really, really hope you’re right.” She looks around, probably scanning for the cops that are supposed to be here, or at least on their way. But no one’s here yet. Typical of the overburdened NYPD.

“You want me to come up, sir?” Yuri, the driver, asks from the front seat. I keep his number handy for random jobs like this.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stay with the car. Direct the cops up when they arrive.”

Yuri gives me a short nod, but I can tell from his posture that he doesn’t like having anything to do with the cops. Given what I know about his past, it doesn’t surprise me. Old habits die hard, or not at all.

Memphis retrieves her keys from her purse and hands them to me to unlock the first door. Then she pulls out her phone and taps at its screen.

“I have security cameras hidden,” she says, lifting her chin at the lobby ceiling. “Here and near my apartment. We should be able to see something on the feed.”

“Smart girl,” I say, opening the door and ushering her inside.

She’s still waiting for the camera feed to load due to the crappy service inside the stairwell when we reach her floor. Randi leans against the hall wall opposite Memphis’s door, and the expression on her face can only be described as supremely pissed off.

“Good. You’re here. See you later.” She turns to stalk off down the hallway.

Memphis bolts forward to catch her. “Wait, Randi. I’m sorry.”

Randi shoots a glance at me, and I can tell she wants to call Memphis out about what happened at the restaurant, but she doesn’t.

Could she actually care about not blowing Memphis’s cover, even though she’s furious and knows she’s been lied to? As if I’m one to talk. Only yesterday it was me getting gut-punched with the truth, and here I am. Memphis has that unique effect on people.

“Yeah, whatever. Good luck, Drew. Hope they didn’t take anything important.” Randi turns the corner and disappears, leaving Memphis with her phone in her hand, staring after her.

I move closer to the door to check out the damage to the handle and locks. “Boot prints. A man kicked it in. Someone big or unusually strong for his size.”

“I have dead bolts.”

I glance her way for a beat before pulling down the cuff of my shirt to open the door without getting fingerprints on it. “If someone’s determined, no dead bolt is going to stop them.”

With a frustrated shake of her head, she looks back down at the phone and taps the screen several times. As I swing the door open, she looks up toward the position where I assume her other camera should be . . . and there’s nothing.