Page 18 of Veiled Amor

Holy Mary Magdalene.

Capone wasn’t prepared for the invisible punch to the solar plexus.

“Gi…” she breathed, holding the doorframe as if it were the only thing holding her up.

That action alone put fire in his chest.

Her hair was longer, touching past her shoulders and brushing around her pixie shaped face. At twenty-six, she’d filled out into a curvier body, and his whole fucking mouth pooled with water.

The urge to ram her against the wall, smash her mouth under his, was a near-impossible urge to ignore. He refrained, only just.

“Gonna invite me into this fleapit?” He rasped thickly, putting bite into his tone because this shit wasn’t a walk down memory lane. Nor was it a friendly chit-chat over coffee. She wanted his help to keep her hidden from her Kingpin father.

How she’d managed for three weeks, he didn’t know. One thing he would lay money on was Nicholas Cole being furious over his asset flying her cage. He’d bet the fucker had men scouring the country. It wouldn’t be a surprise if they’d already found her and were playing a cat-and-mouse game to scare her into running back.

“Oh, yes. Please come in.” She stammered and widened the door for Capone to step through. He dropped his holdall bag on the floor, inspecting the orange and white room, clean at least with basic furniture. A double bed, armchair and a TV was sitting on top of a dresser.

When he turned, it was to find Lucia watching him and worrying her lip with the front of her teeth. “I didn’t think you’d get here so fast.”

As a driven man, from the time he prospected for the Florida Renegade Souls, nothing much fazed Capone.

He had a cast-iron stomach, could cause violence and mayhem, and not care about it afterward. He’d fought his battles with sheer will and his fists. And only two things in his life had rocked the world from underneath his feet.

His massacred family.

And this woman.

He’d stayed in Miami only long enough to settle the estate, knowing he couldn’t have his revenge on the man responsible without getting Lucia killed.

She’d pulled him back into her orbit. And whether she knew it, his fucking world was about to rock again under his feet.

Capone’s jaw ticked tightly, hands in the pockets of the denim jacket he wore. He’d left all his club insignia gear at home.

“I hope I didn’t cut into anything important,” she went on, nervous fingers crawling around her throat. She moved away and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I was at a friend’s wedding when you called.”

“Oh, no, Gi! I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine, not much for weddings, and they understood. Now you wanna explain to me why you’re here?”

“Seriously, I feel awful. I was impulsive and afraid. I should have waited to call you.”

“You haven’t picked up my call in three weeks.”

Her head reared up, and her foam green eyes widened. Lips slackened. “I wasn’t sure you’d still call after the first time I didn’t answer. I’ve kept my phone off in case dad has it monitored.”

Capone wouldn’t be surprised. He motioned with a hand. “Let’s see it.”

She moved, dug a hand into a purse, and their fingers brushed when she handed it over. Static electricity rushed up to his shoulder. After digging out the sim card, he stalked across to the tiny bathroom and dropped the card into the toilet bowl, flushing it away.

“We’ll get you a new phone in case there’s a hidden tracker app on the device. Is the Beemer out front yours?”

“I drove it, but it’s one of his,” she winced. “I thought he might have a way to track mine.”

Capone said, “I don’t have any of my equipment to check it over. I’ll have someone pick it up.”

“Do you think it’s bugged too?”

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