White Knight (Dirty Mafia Duet, #2)(26)

Her eyes meet mine, and the love there is stunning. “I want more time too, Cannon. A lot more.”





Even though the next week is a madhouse at the club, and we’re still waiting to hear back from the police about the break-in, Memphis and I somehow settle into a routine.

Work. Sex. Italian food. Research. Dead end.

I can’t complain about business being good, but it only leaves us with scraps of time here and there, and we’re not finding anything new.

On the other hand, the sex is fucking magic. She’s as hungry for me as I am for her.

Every night it’s new. On the counter in the kitchen. In the shower. In the back seat of my Chevelle parked in the garage—and I can attest to the fact that that’s what my car was really made for.

Memphis Lockwood, the sable-haired, turquoise-eyed bombshell, has barreled into my world, and for the first time since my mother’s murder and my falling-out with Creighton, I have a semblance of peace despite the amplifying tension between us and the Rossettis.

Something is in the air, and war is coming.

For now, I stare up at the ceiling and run my thumb up and down my woman’s arm, push the dread aside for another night, and just focus on how fucking gorgeous she looked when she listened to her friend Ariel gush about her new baby over the phone.

With that image on a loop in my mind, I fall asleep to fight another day.





18





Memphis





“Salud, chindon!”

A drink is shoved into my hand as soon as I walk in the door. Even though we arrived on time, apparently we’re late, and people are already toasting to Dom’s continued good health.

When Cannon said he had an idea of who we could ask to get some more information, I didn’t expect it to coincide with our attending Dominic Casso’s seventieth birthday party, which is being held in an Italian restaurant that might as well be straight out of The Godfather.

The room is full of people I don’t recognize, but I quell the urge to adjust my wig. I’m firmly in the role of Drew Carson tonight, even though being in disguise grates. All I want is to be me. Whoever that is.

But with Dom being such a big part of Cannon’s life, I don’t know if I’ll get to shed my disguise anytime soon. Especially if people are toasting Dom another hundred years of good health.

Wait. Why do I know what that toast means in Italian? I don’t speak Italian. Obviously, everyone knows what salud means, but I must have picked up the other word somewhere along my career through osmosis or something.

I lose my chance to think about it any longer as Cannon is engulfed by the crowd. Men and women come forward to hug him, kissing both cheeks, and I wonder if they’re straight from Italy or really just that effusive in their greetings.

Cannon introduces me to everyone as Drew, and I file their names away as they come at me. Gina. Anthony. Rudy. Elisa.

I sip the drink in my hand—a Bellini, I believe—as I smile, shake hands, and make small talk with people who come from a completely different world from the one I know. A world I planned to tear down to its very foundation.

Planned? As in past tense? I question my own thoughts as I scan the crowd for any familiar faces.

One pops up right next to me, but there’s no smile on her face.

“He really brought you here? Wow. That’s quite the statement,” Tanya says with a wry smirk. It’s hard to tell if she’s friend or foe.

“How is Teal?” I ask, because it seems safer to deflect rather than talk about the very public turn my relationship with Cannon has taken.

Instead of giving me a look that could kill, Tanya’s expression softens. “She’s . . . she’s getting the help she needs. Finally.” Tanya glances at Cannon as he exchanges one of those handshakes that turns into a backslapping hug with a gray-haired man.

“I’m so sorry, Tanya. I had no idea what you were dealing with. I—”

“You just thought I hated you for getting hired. I know. Teal’s not the only one who has amends to make. I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you because I did want to say I’m sorry for being such a bitch, but we’ve been so busy. Regardless, none of it was your fault. You just stepped into a shitty situation when my life was falling apart.”

She shrugs and takes a sip of her drink.

“It was easy to blame you.” Her hair falls into her face as her lips form a rueful smile. “I hope you’ll forgive me. Maybe we can start over or something.”

All of her body language tells me she’s at least trying to be sincere.

“Thank you, Tanya. I appreciate that. And, of course I forgive you.” I glance down at the bead of condensation streaking down the side of my glass. “My mother’s an alcoholic. I get how hard it is to deal with addiction. It can be like a monster that just won’t die. And when the person isn’t willing to get help or even admit they have a problem . . .” I trail off. She knows that life as much as I do.

Tanya nods gravely. “Total clusterfuck. I’m really sorry you’ve had to deal with it too. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially someone who doesn’t totally suck.”

The corner of Tanya’s mouth lifts, and I wonder if we’ve just bonded. Although I suspect we’re light-years away from braiding each other’s hair and swapping recipes, friendship between us isn’t the worst thing that could happen.