Page 24 of Jacking Jill

“Were you really planning to sleep with that piece-of-shit Bobby Carmine?” Jack managed to keep the jealousy out of his voice well enough, partly because he’d already sensed that Jill wasn’t going to attempt that crap now, perhaps never would have gone through with it even if she’d been here alone. “Don’t take it personally, but you don’t strike me as the type. Not that there’s anything wrong with being the type to fuck someone else’s fiancé for a good cause . . .”

Jill shifted against his body. “Here we go typecasting again.” She sighed, glanced up at him, blinking away something that was most certainly not indignation, not this time. “No,” she said softly with a flash of embarrassment. “I mean, yes, it was part of my plan, but more like a last resort. I was going to show up here and play it by ear, feel out Nina to see if simply talking to her would work.”

“And? Will it work?” Jack glanced across the big hall at Nina, who was now with Bobby. As Jack watched, the two of them stepped away from the bar, then hurried down a back corridor and disappeared into a room, Nina casting a vaguely guilty look over her shoulder before following Bobby inside and closing the door. “Tell me they’re just going to grab a quickie like a good bride and groom.”

“A quickie hit of whatever the flavor of the month is for Bobby,” said Jill glumly from where her head rested against Jack’s shoulder. “He’s so bad for her, Jack. I know she can get clean, but not with Bobby always pushing her to get high with him. I mean, I know Bobby’s a victim of addiction too, that once you get trapped in that place, it becomes really hard to get out without help. But Nina’s my friend, not Bobby. He needs help too, but my priority is Nina.”

“Pretty sure Bobby Carmine was an asshole before he ever got high,” Jack said. “And he’ll still be an asshole if he ever gets clean.” He swept his gaze across the hall again. Romeo Carmine was at the bar now, holding court at the center of an informal circle of older men and women. “Why hasn’t Uncle Romeo stepped in and sent Bobby to rehab? He called Bobby a junkie earlier, so he obviously knows about his nephew’s drug use.”

Jill shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe he even hopes Bobby dies of an overdose. You heard what he said about Bobby not being a real Carmine, right?”

Jack nodded, studying Romeo Carmine’s body language from across the hall. The guy projected authority and power in a way that Jack knew was authentic, no faking, no bullshit. The guy was clearly the alpha wolf in his little den, the king of whatever kingdom the Carmine Family still had left after the legalization of online sports gambling all over America pretty much killed off the illegal bookie trade that was the bread-and-butter of the traditional mafia world.

Which was why so many old mafia families were moving into drugs to make up for the lost business. The ones that didn’t make the move got pushed out by the Families willing to take the risk for the big money that came with drugs like weed at first, then cocaine, now heroin, meth, and Fentanyl—which was turning into an epidemic in America, thanks to dirt-cheap Chinese-made Fentanyl smuggled across the southern border.

And perhaps soon to be sailed into American ports from the Zeta Nation’s strategic location on South America’s northeastern coast.

That was almost certainly the play, Jack thought as he watched Romeo Carmine light a cigarette with a solid gold Zippo. This guy was living large, and if he could afford to set up his sister and her bastard kid in a mansion the size of the White House, Romeo Carmine certainly wasn’t hurting for cash.

Which was puzzling, given the relative obscurity of the Carmine Family. Jack had flipped through what Paige had sent him on Romeo Carmine’s operations. Paige and Nancy had looked into Romeo Carmine’s tax returns, and it had all checked out clean enough that the IRS didn’t have grounds for any serious suspicion. Sure, Nancy had found a slew of shell companies and anonymous LLCs, but all of that was legal for the most part—or at least legal enough that it was common practice for pretty much every wealthy family in the United States. Nancy, being a former Treasury Agent, was still digging into the details, but right now it appeared that Romeo Carmine was legally set up to look like just another wealthy American investor.

Romeo Carmine is not the target, Jack reminded himself now as Romeo’s sharp gaze suddenly flicked towards Jack and Jill. The black-haired gray-eyed alpha wolf waved with his cigarette, flashed a big grin, then raised his glass of Italian Prosecco in a silent toast.

Jack sighed, nodded once to acknowledge Romeo, then patted Jill’s arm and leaned forward to get up. “Come on. Let’s dance.”

9

“What?” Panic streaked across Jill’s face. “Now?”

Jack rose from the white leather sofa, straightened out his tie and jacket, then held his hand out for Jill to take. “Yes, now. Told you I’m a great dancer. Besides, I need to earn my keep as your date.”

Jill stared at his hand like it was an alien proboscis about to probe her. She pulled her red woolen wrap tight around her shoulders, holding it closed as she looked up at him and shook her head firmly. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

Jack kept his arm stretched out towards her. “Don’t leave me hanging, Jill. Come on. It’ll be fun. Look at those old mafiosos and their wives out there on the dancefloor. You think they give a damn about looking ridiculous?”

“Wait, you think I’ll look ridiculous out there?” Jill’s lower lip jutted out again in that stubborn little pout that Jack was already finding too cute for words. Fuck, he would love to see those pouty lips part in a silent scream as she came for him. She’d look so beautiful coming all over his face, Jack thought as he gulped back his rising arousal, did his best not to let his hungry gaze rest too long on the curve of her ass outlined beneath her fitted black dress, one stockinged leg still crossed over the other knee. “Now I’m definitely not dancing. Besides, I’m not drunk enough yet.”

Jack raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Do you ever get drunk?”

Jill raised both eyebrows back at him. “I said drunk enough. For me that’s like two glasses of wine.”

“Waiter!” Jack snapped his fingers at a white-jacketed, white-gloved server balancing a silver tray which held six champagne glasses filled with bubbly Prosecco. Jack took three glasses off the tray, nodded to the server, then turned back to Jill with a grin. “Two for you. One for me. Come on. Drink up so I can show these mafiosos some Army dance-moves.”

Jill sighed, took one of the glasses, sipped the bubbly, then looked up at him. “I don’t like the sound of that. What does an Army dance move look like for the unsuspecting partner?”

Jack placed the extra glass down on the low marble-topped table, took a big drink from his glass, then shrugged. “Some twirling. Some twisting. Some tossing.”

“Some tossing?” Jill sputtered out a Prosecco-flavored laugh. “I’m sorry, but you are most certainly not tossing me. What am I, a salad?”

“Sure, why not.” Jack grinned wickedly. “But I should warn you, I like my salads without dressing. Undressed.”

Jill rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile. Jack grinned back at her, even though inside him that warning still whispered from the shadows of his psyche.

Don’t you dare hurt her, you piece of shit, growled that warning. Back off with the charm. Ease off on the flirting. She’s getting pulled in, which means you need to pull out, soldier. Don’t you have a moral compass, you dirtbag? You can’t take her to bed and then walk away like you’ve done your whole life. She’s not like the others, not like any other. She’s one of a kind, unique like a diamond, perfect like a pearl.

And you don’t fucking deserve her.

That last thought hit Jack like a hammer, and he gulped down the rest of his sparkling white wine. He placed the empty glass down on the marble tabletop, then snatched up the full glass he’d left there for Jill, so she could get “drunk enough” to dance with him, twirl with him, get tossed like the salad he so desperately wanted to undress and eat like the hungry wolf he was inside, all the way inside, maybe the only thing inside.

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