Page 14 of Dangerous Devotion

I still can’t believe how calm and skilled she was when Louie was stretched out bleeding on top of an old desk. Add in her integrity, not wanting a free ride, discounting the idea that she deserved to have half the debt eliminated for what she’d done and she is proving herself to be one hell of a woman.

I go to the corner and walk past Philly’s private security detail.

“You hear?” I ask.

“Yeah, he texted me a picture. I opened it up thinkin’ it was another stupid meme about the election or something, and here’s his leg blown open right there on my screen for Christ sake,” Philly says.

“New waitress fixed him up. She’s working here ‘cause you had her dad beat up.”

“Yeah, I know. Real piece of shit,” Philly shakes his head like he wants to spit or something.

“I told her what she did tonight was worth five thousand easy, maybe eight cause it’s your son.”

“Fuck, yeah it is. Lynnette told me she was sending him here right after he messaged me that picture. She was pissed off. Never cross a pregnant woman, Jacky. Take my advice.”

“You should take that advice. When I tell her that you’re still charging interest on that debt after Serena saved Louie’s leg at least, and maybe his life, I can guarantee they won’t name that kid after you.”

“I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t offer to disown my ass and tell that child he’s only got one grandpa.”

“Keep that in mind when you balance your books,” I tell him. “I don’t tell you how to run your end of the business. I just take my cut off the top. Now I’m making a suggestion: you ask yourself if Louie’s life is worth eight grand to you.”

He nods up at me gravely, and I walk away.

7

SERENA

He’s acting like I made some big achievement cleaning out a gunshot wound and stitching it up. It makes me feel uncomfortable or like I’m trying to cash in on someone’s misfortune if they forgive part of my dad’s debt. I get that it wasn’t misfortune so much as the guy was in a gunfight and lost, but I still don’t want to profit from his injury. I take some deep breaths and shut my eyes and count backward from a hundred to calm myself down.

My mind wanders to the syrupy-thick tension between my new boss and me. It’s something for the record books.

I’m more shaken than I thought I’d be. I’ve done triage in the ER before, taking vitals and asking admission questions. I’ve seen and cleaned up some injuries much worse than what I saw tonight. But the sudden shift, the loss of balance has rattled me. Instead of a temporary waitress here to pay back what her dad owes, now I’m the resident Florence Nightingale for the hardened-criminal population in the back room of a bar.

I’m the woman who went for it with the ultimate bad boy, a ruthless Mob boss. I had my hands in his hair, arched into the hand he slid between my thighs. Every bit of my usually dormant sex drive had busted out like the Kool Aid man in those weird commercials.

The kind of sexual tension we have should take years of maddening slow burn to build up. It isn’t something that should whip through my life like heat lightning, but here we are. I’m off balance, and my instinct is to grab on to Jack Marino and hang on tight.

Didn’t he tell me to hold on, in that smoldering voice that held such promise in every dark syllable? I busy myself, straightening things, putting them to rights unnecessarily—it was hardly a tidy office to begin with—just to have something to do with my hands.

I can feel him close behind me. His hands on my arms, the heat rolling off his body when he steps in closer. “You were amazing,” he says.

I look at him over my shoulder. Whatever my look tells him, he nods to me. “You okay?”

“Sure,” I say, brushing it off and trying to act busy.

“If you changed your mind, if seeing Louie shot up because of his association with my family—”

“No, he got shot because he chose a job that makes gunfire a pretty regular occurrence,” I say. “Unless you’re the one who shot him—which, pretty sure you were right here with your hand up my shirt around that time—you’re not to blame.”

One corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile that looks half stunned and almost goofy. It makes him look younger, less terrifying. I turn around to face him.

“Jack,” I say. “I’ve never gone home with someone I barely know. I’m responsible and careful and I’ve had a whole lifetime of those things. I’m up to my neck in my father’s debts again. It feels like I’ve never gotten to be young. I never do anything just because it feels good. I’m using you. It’s only fair to tell you up front that I really want to do one wild, stupid thing.”

“I’m the stupid thing you want to do,” he says wryly, and I wince.

“I just don’t want you to think that—”

“You’re going to put a ring on it?” he says with a smirk. “You got the wrong idea about me.”

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