Chapter 22

Simon parks the car on a quiet, shady street in a neighborhood I don’t know very well. It’s a little past one in the morning and even though Elena’s barely spoken to me since I told her about this mission, I haven’t been able to get that blowjob out of my head.

It was heaven. Fucking perfection. No woman has ever made me feel so much in the space of one orgasm. It was pleasure, but it was also love, and kindness, and her incredible unwavering attention. Elena’s a sun and she can be warm and she can also burn, and all I want to do is bask in her.

Simon kills the engine. We’re alone in his sedan. Somewhere across the neighborhood is another van with Davide, Seamus, and a few of my best soldiers, all of them armed to the teeth. There aren’t any other Bianco men involved in this operation, and I get the feeling this is some kind of test.

“Everyone in position?” Simon asks and sits down lower in his seat. “We should get moving.” It’s a quiet neighborhood and there isn’t much going on, but I can feel the tension rolling off him.

“Who exactly are we hitting in there?” I squint at the one-story house we’re supposed to be raiding. There’s an SUV in the driveway and it looks like the lawn gets maintained. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing special about it.

“Santoro’s safe house. I know what you’re thinking, but trust me, there are no civilians inside.” His face darkens as he looks over at me. “These guys killed Matty.”

I nod and check my phone. There’s an encrypted text from Seamus saying they’re ready to go and waiting on my signal. “We’re doing this fast,” I tell Simon. “No bodies if we can avoid it.”

“Good. That’s what I want. Take the fuckers alive and let me handle the rest.” Based on his expression, whoever’s inside that house is about to have a very bad few days.

I send Seamus a single heart emoji.

Nothing dramatic happens. My guys are good, and they know not to make too much noise. I barely hear the thud of the back door breaking open, and only because I’m listening for it.

I don’t care if Simon is trying to test me right now. I don’t even blame him for it. My family’s never been in a real conflict until now and we’re a total unknown. He needs to figure out if we can be trusted and how much he can rely on our support moving forward.

But even though we haven’t been at war, my guys know what they’re doing. We’re a small crew, but we take our business seriously.

I get another text five minutes later. It’s a thumbs-up emoji. “They’re done,” I say, opening the door.

Simon looks surprised. “Seriously? I didn’t even know they went in already.”

“You wanted simple. You got simple.” I walk across the street and Simon hurries after me. Seamus is waiting on the front porch with the door open, a big shit-eating grin on his face.

“Nice of you to show up,” he says as I step inside.

The interior’s plain. The living room is furnished with the bare minimum and there’s almost nothing in the kitchen. It honestly reminds me of my house before I got it decorated. Upstairs, three men are kneeling in the hallway, their hands bound behind their backs and duct tape over their mouths. My soldiers loom above them, and Davide hangs back, watching it all.

“Here you go,” Seamus says, gesturing at the captives. “A present gift wrapped and all.”

“Well done,” Simon says, looking pleased. “Get these guys in the van and take them to our interrogation room.” Davide grunts in response and drags the men to their feet before pulling them out by a rope tied around their waists. My soldiers follow, guns at the ready.

But Simon stops me before I can follow. He gestures and leads me back to the car where he pops open the trunk. Inside are four clear bottles filled with liquid. Each has a rag stuffed into the top.

“This is the best part,” Simon says, hefting one. He takes a lighter from his pocket. “What do you think? Will two be enough?”

I shake my head and take the remaining three, tucking one under an arm. “Let’s make sure we don’t fuck this up.”

Simon laughs and leads me back to the front yard. He lights a rag and throws the Molotov cocktail at the roof, and his aim is damn good. It lands on the single, shatters, and flames spread all over.

I throw the next one through the living room window. It breaks and the smell of burning wood and drywall floods out to the street. We throw the next two in quick succession, and the house is an inferno by the time we’re walking back to the car, keeping it as casual as we can. In a few minutes, the neighbors will start waking up, and we don’t want to draw any attention.

“Good job tonight,” Simon says as he drives back toward the oasis. “This was just the start, but I’m impressed.”

“My people know what they’re doing.”

“I’m glad.” He glances at me and looks serious as he navigates through the city. Sirens begin to wail nearby, but he doesn’t hit the accelerator, only keeps on going like it’s no big deal. “You and Elena seem like a good match.”

I glance out the window. “Maybe. Not sure yet.”

“You’re staying at her place,” he points out. “Elena’s a social butterfly, but she never lets people stay at her place.”

“We’re trying to figure out how to make this work. That’s all it is.”

Simon’s quiet for a few more turns, but once the oasis comes into sight, he slows down and looks at me again.

“It’s okay if it surprises you,” he says and seems more pensive than I’ve ever seen before. “I was surprised when it happened to me. When Emily and I worked through our shit together. It’s alright if you don’t expect it, but Elena’s a good person. Don’t make her fight too much.”

I make a noncommittal noise in the back of my throat and he pulls down the street and drops me off outside of the house. He just waves as he goes to park, and I walk into the dark entryway, trying not to make any noise.

He’s right though. Elena’s a good person. She’s an extremely good person—and I worry every day that I won’t be enough for her. But it doesn’t surprise me, what I’m feeling right now, because I felt it the second I first saw her. Maybe I’m still struggling to come to grips with how I feel, but this feels more natural than anything I’ve experienced before.

“You smell like gasoline,” she says sleepily as I crawl into bed beside her. She’s so fucking soft and warm and she snuggles up against me, not fully conscious.

“I’ll shower in the morning,” I whisper and can’t resist the temptation to kiss her hair.