With a grimace, I let go. “Thanks for helping me. You’re sure we weren’t followed?”
No way I could live with myself if any of the dangerous shit I’m mixed up in came for Havana.
“Positive.”
Maybe she’s right, but she doesn’t know the people I’m dealing with. I hope to fuck she never does.
“I need to make sure this place is secure and call a few people.” I can’t resist touching her. I should…but when it comes to Havana, I’m weak. I take her face in my hands. “Then we’re going to talk.”
Something streaks across her expression. Worry? She blanks it so quickly I can’t tell. Havana is good at hiding her feelings. No surprise considering everything she’s been through since her parents died.
“Okay. I’ll look around and take stock of the supplies here. Ethan said the place would be pretty empty.”
Then she steps away like she doesn’t want me to touch her.
You threw her out when she needed you because your job is risky as hell and because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants for a few more weeks. Why should she want you?
“If you see or hear anything, scream. I’ll come running.”
Then I search the ground floor, checking every door and window before I do the same upstairs. I’ll have to ask Ethan whose place this is and how he got in. It’s expansive and lavish. Sexy. Like someplace a wealthy man would bring his mistress to bang her in total privacy.
Since we’re as secure as we can be, I double back to the home office on the far side of the first floor. It’s got a sick view of the infinity-edge pool and spa with multicolored lights in the vast backyard that butts up to a long fairway. The room itself is dominated by a massive desk and dark woods, recessed lighting and overstuffed chairs. I hear Havana rummaging around the kitchen, so I shut the double doors.
And I wrench my phone from my pocket to call my son. I always thought Ethan was a smart kid, but putting Havana in danger like this is the stupidest fucking decision he could have made.
Before I can connect the call to ask him what the hell he was thinking, the device rings in my hand. Ridge.
If my brother is calling now, it’s not good.
I skip the greeting. “Ridge? Talk to me.”
“You’re alive?”
So he’s already heard I’ve been shot? That’s bad news, too. “What made you think I wasn’t? And if you thought I’d kicked it, why are you calling me?”
He drops his voice. “Paul Carboni came tearing in here about an hour ago, whooping like an idiot.”
Because he thought I was dead? “He is an idiot.”
Ridge huffs. “I can’t argue with that. But he gave Donzelli the thumbs-up and started popping champagne. When I asked why the fuck we’re partying, Paulie announced that he iced you tonight in the parking lot of some ratty-ass strip mall.”
Of course Marco Donzelli and his boys had something to do with the attempt on my life. Pieces of shit.
“Carboni tried. He tagged me twice.” If Havana hadn’t called the police and my son, he might have succeeded. “But I got some stitches and meds. I’m good as new.”
In fact, other than having a hard-as-fuck dick because the soft, sweet woman of my fantasies is just a few feet away, I feel fine.
“He thinks you’re dead.”
That’s great news for me. “So he’ll get brazen. One less competitor, right? See if you can get him to move on the next part of his operation so we can figure out what the fuck is happening.”
“Actually, I should have a lot of new information soon. You lie low until then, ’k? And hey, thanks for not making me mourn you just yet.”
“Nah. I wouldn’t let a punk like Paul Carboni off me.” Especially not if I have any chance with Havana.
But there are complications I need to deal with before we have any chance of sharing a future.
“I gotta go,” Ridge mutters hurriedly, like he’s worried someone is listening. “I’ll call when I can.”
“Stay safe.”
My youngest brother tells me to do the same, then hangs up.
I’m worried like hell for Havana’s safety. I can watch over her for now. But we can’t stay here long. I need to see where her head—and her heart—are at, then make some decisions.
Other questions niggle at the back of my brain. How did Paul know where to find me tonight? He shouldn’t have been able to, and I hope like hell he can’t guess why I was in that strip mall. But in case he knows, Havana needs to lie low with me until this shit blows over.
But if she’s changed her mind about me—and she should—how am I going to keep my hands off of her?
Cursing under my breath, I dial my son. I’m worried about him, too. He’s spent too much time with me and his uncles. He’s turning out just like us.
Ethan picks up right away. “Dad, you okay?”
“Fine. There are people after me. You need to worry about your own hide.”
“Already taking precautions, I promise.”
“Good. Now what the fuck were you thinking, pawning me off on Havana? You put her in danger, and you know it.”
“It was a calculated risk. That’s why I gave you two someplace secluded to go. You have unresolved shit, and you’ve been making some reckless fucking decisions since you sent her away. Fix it.”
I should berate Ethan for his language and taking this choice out of my hands. But he learned from me, and he’s not wrong. Hell, maybe he’s even done me a favor, except…
“Son, you know there’s only one way for me to fix this for good, and it will hurt you.” Not that it will stop me from claiming Havana if she still feels about me the way she did the morning I kissed her.
“It won’t,” Ethan assures. “I’m not in love with her. I’m not even interested anymore.”
Really? I sigh. “I can’t say the same.”
He laughs. “I knew you’d caught feelings for Havana. It’s mutual. Go get her. You deserve to be happy after Mom fucked you over a hundred ways. She’s been weighing you down since you were sixteen. If Havana makes you happy, I’m cool with it.”
Damn, when did my kid go from the gangly, defiant boy who wanted to blame me for every fucking thing wrong in his life to the sharp, rational man I’m talking to now? I’m almost choked with pride. “Thanks.”
“Totally. Besides, if you marry Havana, I’ll have the hottest stepmom ever.”
“Shut your mouth.”
“Why, do you want me to be less than honest?”
“I want you to get your thoughts out of her panties.”
That’s hard for me to say. I’m ninety-percent sure he once had way more than his thoughts in them. Hell, he probably popped her cherry. I try like hell not to be jealous. But I know my son. He started getting regular ass a few years ago, and he’s never without now. I don’t care as long as he’s careful and doesn’t repeat my teenage pregnancy fiasco.
Or I didn’t care until Havana.
“Actually, they’re in someone else’s, so can we cut this chat short? A friend’s older sister called me for some…company. She’s expecting me in an hour.”