Page 18 of Stolen Christmas
“Then you know I don’t have it.” He looks at the other detective in the room, who is leaning over the table, glaring at the kid and attempting to intimidate him. I’ll give it to the boy; he’s tougher than I expected, but not as badass as he thinks. I’ll have him pissing in his pants in a second.
“We saw you toss it. Now it’s lost,” the detective continues. They know damn well he dropped it into my bag, but they’re afraid to question me.
I’m not in the mood for this. I need answers, and there is no need to beat around the bush. This kid decided to shove me and then dared to get me caught up in a felony. I have way too much on the line for this little shit to play games. I push myself off the wall and smoothly walk up to the table. “He dropped it into my bag”—then I rush forward and slam my hands on the table—“didn’t you, you little shit?” His body flinches back in his chair, nearly falling off. I catch him by his cuffed wrists. “Now my question is, were you just unaware of who I am, or do you just have a death wish?”
He shakes his head. “I was just trying to get away.” I can smell the fear and the piss before the sound hits the floor. Smirking, I straighten up.
“Look, Mendez, I say you cut him some slack. What is he, seventeen?” I ask.
“Fifteen.” I look at this boy, and I’m stunned. What the fuck is he doing stealing a tennis bracelet at his age, and why?
“I’ve already made a deal with the store owner that I’ll return the bracelet, and we’ll have him do some community service, so he’ll drop the charges against this little shit.” We both know that I have everything already squared away, but I have to put on a show.
“Sounds good to me,” the chief adds.
“What? I don’t need to work for free. I need to work for money, damn it. Some of us don’t have silver spoons up our asses.” The boy has a mouth on him that needs sealing. After the fact that he just pissed his pants like a little bitch, he’s getting awfully brave.
“Boy,” I snarl. “You’re talking like you have a lot of balls when you need a change of clothes.” I look at the other officer in the room. “By the way, can someone get him something else to wear, because he’s not going in my vehicle like that.”
“Sure.”
“Officer Strauss, please grab a men’s small from the lockers.” The officer nods and leaves the room.
As he does, a woman’s voice can be heard from the open door. “Where is he? Oh my God, Tony. You have to get him out of this. He’s just a stupid kid,” I hear a sweet voice beg. Immediately, I imagine her begging on her knees for me. I don’t know who she’s talking to, but soon she’ll be speaking directly to me. The next words I hear send me into a rage.
Chapter Six
Luca
“Relax, baby. I’ll take care of it,” Fields croons. That asshole deserves to catch my fist. There’s no damn way he’s trying to soothe a woman that’s not his wife, especially when she’s too tempting.
“Shit,” the kid says behind me, and then I put it together. She’s here for him, the stupid kid.
“What? Who is that?” I ask, wanting details—all the details.
“My sister.” Sister? Interesting. This is too fucking coincidental. This boy bumps into me, causing me a fucking headache, while he’s out hooking up with this kid’s sister. I have dug into Fields’s family, and this kid is not related to Fields’s wife, so something isn’t adding up. Fields has got himself a girlfriend on the side. I remember the images that my men had snagged of the mystery woman. It must be her, unless he’s gotten another piece of ass.
God, I want to kill him so damn bad. My muscles tighten in my shoulders as I hear her voice and his going back and forth. He shushes her, trying to calm her. I want to rip his heart out, and I don’t even know this woman. Hell, I don’t even know what this woman looks like, but I hate this man.
I open the door to make proper introductions when the officer comes in with the change of clothes, so I step out, closing it to get a better look while the little shit changes. I need to see if the voice matches the mental image that I’ve instantly built in my head of a gorgeous brunette with a body that begs to be pleasured.
I’d already gotten a partial glimpse of her through the telescopic lens photos. She was attractive from the back side, and, betting on a man like Fields’s ego, she was just as appealing from the front. The second I close the door, both of them turn, and her beautiful, bright, tear-filled eyes meet mine. My hunch is spot on. She is perfect.
Fuck me; her face screams innocent, but nothing else does. She’s wearing a mini dress that barely covers her ass in the middle of the fucking winter with her coat open and her tits practically popping out. My throat dries up, and I’m suddenly extremely thirsty. I stare at her creamy tits, wanting to suck on them. Killer heels only make her tall enough to reach my chest, perfect to fit in my arms. Damn, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I’m laser-focused on her.
Immediately, all that comes to mind is I’ve found the other gift my mother wants—potential grandbabies. Fields makes a fatal error and puts his hands on her in a possessive way. It infuriates me, so I react.
“Are you being booked for prostitution?” I ask, knowing damn well she’s here for her brother.
Her pretty mouth falls open and then her perfectly sculpted eyebrows turn angry as she hisses a vicious, “Fuck you.”
“I’m just wondering why the fuck his hands are on you, and why you’re dressed like that?”
“I’m her boyfriend, and she was on her way to work.” Every word out of his mouth only burns in my gut and adds another minute of torture I have planned for the dumb cop. He played the wrong mobster. He crossed me, and it’s not even because he’s a cop. No, it’s because he’s a dirty cop who now has his hands on what belongs to me, even if they don’t know it yet. They will, though. The room is full of eyes on us. There is no doubt that there are also guns ready because they knowwho I am, although it would be foolish for anyone to get crazy here. Especially because I wasn’t armed when I came in. My eyes linger on the way Fields’s hand lingers on the pretty woman’s waist. I want to burn that dress.
My teeth clench so tightly that I can feel my jaw nearly cracking. “You’re a boy, all right, but you’re not anything to her but a pathetic excuse of a memory.” I look at her and wag my finger. “Come here.”
She presses her hand to her ample chest, like I need any more enticement. “Excuse me.”
