“You need to listen to me—”
“I hope Daddy told you to take a hike because that’s a stupidest idea I’ve heard in a while and that’s saying something considering who my brothers are. Are you for real?”
Tony put the mug down on one of my discarded magazines atop the coffee table and stood.
“Madonna. Stop talking. You need to listen to me.”
My lips slammed together so hard my jaw jiggled from the hit. In the next instant they fell open again.
I closed my hands into fists, never wanting to hit something so much as since the time I’d discovered one of my idiot brothers had thrown a red towel into the laundry with my underwear. I wore pink and red-splotched panties and bras for months until I could afford new ones.
Sneering, I lowered my chin and pierced him with a glare dripping with derision. In a voice even my mother told me she grew frightened of when I used it on her sons, I said, “Who the hell do you think you are, Tony Roma? You don’t get to speak to me that way. This is my house. I’ll say what I want to say and that’s there’s no way you’re using my store as some kind of”—I flapped a hand in the air—“undercover operation.”
Both of us stood, face to face, my blood boiling, Tony’s face as red as my Aunt Frankie’s famous tomato sauce. Our breaths were rapid, and since my heart hammered like a drum line against my chest, I’d bet cash money his did as well.
From the small amount of space separating us I detected the same subtle spicy aroma that I’d noticed clinging to his coat. On the material it had been appealing. But wafting from the man himself it was positively mind numbing.
I don’t have a clue how long we stood there, but I knew I could go the distance if forced to. Capitulation wasn’t in my DNA.
Tony cracked first. Or should I say, calmed.
He’d been staring hard at me, those haunting eyes zeroed in on my face, my eyes especially, when, without warning his gaze dropped to my mouth. I’m pretty sure it was still pulled into a snarl, but as I watched his chest rise, hold, and then fall without ever diverting his attention from the spot, I pulled in a breath and relaxed my lips, the air pushing back out through them.
One corner of his own mouth ticked up while he shook his head. He lifted his hands in a surrender gesture and said, “I’m sorry, Donna. I don’t want to fight with you about this. It’s not why I came here. I’m sorry.”
Stunned didn’t come close to what shot through me. None of the men in my world ever – ever – apologized, even when they were wholeheartedly responsible for the blame in a situation.
“Can we sit back down and talk?” he asked. “Please?”
I’d like to think the rational part of my brain took over for the emotional side, but it would be a lie. The plea in his voice hit me square in the throat and before I could remember why I was mad at him, I pointed to the sofa again. After he was seated I took the chair opposite.
Leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands joined, he took a moment before speaking. I took the time he was getting his thoughts together to stare at his bent head. The man had fabulous hair. Even though I was mad, I wasn’t blind. To this day I could remember how thick and silky it’d felt clutched in my hands while he did wild and wicked things to my virginal body.
The tips of my fingers tingled at the memory.
Stupid fingers.
Tony sucked in a deep breath, lifted his head and homed in on me.
“When I spoke to your father I actually figured his response was going to be along the lines yours just was.”
“Was it?”
He shook his head and sniggered. “Surprisingly, he agreed. Immediately. I didn’t need to say anything to convince him.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You’re not the only one,” he mumbled. “When I asked why he wasn’t reluctant he told me this time he’d know about it, which seemed to make everything better in his mind. With Chico he was blindsided, something I don’t think your old man usually is.”
I shook my head. “He isn’t. Nothing gets by him.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. He said knowing someone was undercover, someone who would not only find out who killed Chico, but hopefully lead to an arrest for drug distribution, was something he could get totally on board with. Said it was the right thing to do and he wanted justice for Chico.” One side of his mouth lifted and he shook his head again. “Your old man’s something else. You don’t see too many people willing to stick their necks out these days or do something uncomfortable because it’s the right thing to do. I admire that.”
Pride washed through me. My father had always been my hero, the one person in my nutty family I could turn to for advice and direction and who always respected my opinions even if they differed from his. If he was okay with this plan then I knew I had to be as well. But…
“We need ground rules if you’re gonna do this, Tony.”
“What do you mean, ground rules?”
“A way to make sure no one else, including my father, is in any danger or risks getting hurt. Or worse.”
He stared at me, his head tilted to one side, his chin dipped down a bit, for a few moments.
“What did you have in mind?”
I hid my surprise at his question and answered, “First, you need to tell us who the…” I flipped my hand in a circle in the air between us, “spy or mole or whatever he’s called—”
“I think undercover is the term you’re reaching for.”
Why those damn lips looked so kissable as they pulled up into a smirk was just annoying. More so because I wanted to be the one kissing them.
“—is. I want to know the guy’s name.”
Tony nodded. “That won’t be a problem.”
“Second, I want to know everything that’s going on with your scheme.
“Scheme? That’s insulting.”
I flapped my hand again. “Whatever. You need to keep me in the loop.”
“Meaning?”
“If your guy makes contact with these people I need to know.”
“Why?”
“I would think that’s obvious.”
“Spell it out, because it’s not.”
“I need to ensure the safety of the people who work in the store and that includes my father. If your guy makes contact, we need to know so we can be on guard and have backup in the store so no one gets hurt. Or worse.”
Tony’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “This backup plan wouldn’t happen to involve your Uncle Sonny, would it?”
I shrugged. “Who better than to provide for our safety? Uncle Sonny…knows people. People who can keep us protected.”
“Leg breakers, knuckle bangers, and low level enforcer-wannabes, you mean.”
Since it wasn’t a question I didn’t bother answering him.
“I’m not agreeing to that, Donna. Your uncle’s reputation aside, this is police business and any operation needs to be run legally so that when we catch this guy, he can’t slip through any loopholes a defense lawyer can conjure. If I allow non-police personnel or worse—people who skirt the law— to know what’s going on, or assist in some way, that’s setting up the prosecution for a fall.”