Page 16 of Caged Captain

“He played it off, but we can’t take any more chances. We’re close to having enough evidence to take the dirty cops down and keep them down. The documents Lorenzo provided, combined with the pressure we’ve applied through the media and our allies, are finally starting to work in our favor—but for now, we need to stay under the radar. . They’re scrutinizing every little move, and they won’t hesitate to question your not-so-fake girlfriend.”

“Shit,” I mutter, clenching my fists.

“You know what to do. Distance yourself from her. Isolate. Come to my place for a few days.”

“But…” I sigh, knowing there’s no use in arguing. “Yes, Boss.”

We hang up, and I collapse on the couch with an exasperated sigh. Nothing could keep me away from Imogine… except this. Her safety isn’t something I’m willing to risk, even if it makes me look like a bad guy to her.

Fuck, this isn’t fair. Not to me, and especially not to Imogine. I shouldn’t have dragged her into this. It felt like the perfect solution to both of our problems, but in reality, I only put her in harm’s way.

Still, I can’t bring myself to regret any of my decisions. Every single one brought me closer to her, and for that, I won’t apologize.

I debate for a few moments on whether to wake Imogine up and talk to her face to face. In the end, I know I’d never have the strength to leave if she hits me with those bright blue eyes.

With a heavy heart and a head full of conflicting thoughts, I write a note to Imogine. I set the slip of paper on the bedside table before gathering my clothes and getting the hell out of the room. If I stay a second longer, I might cave and crawl back into bed with my woman.

It’s only temporary. We’ll be together again, I tell myself. The ache in my chest grows heavier and more prominent with each step I take away from Imogine. It’s for her own good, for her safety, even if she doesn’t see it that way at first. I vow to make it up to her as soon as it’s safe again.

Even so, the pit in my stomach widens as I hop in my car and head to Aurelio’s mansion. Watching my house grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, I can’t shake the feeling that I just made a huge mistake.

7

IMOGINE

“Oh! Excuse me. Sorry,” I exclaim after bumping into Molly, another server.

“Where’s your head at today, girl? You’ve been shuffling around half-awake.”

I sigh and close my eyes, trying to stem the tears at the thought of Marco. He’s the reason I’m so damn tired. He’s the reason my chest has a giant hole in it. He’s the reason I’m cranky one minute and close to crying the next.

I mean, what the hell? I woke up three days ago, alone in bed, with nothing more than a note. I’ve never felt so thoroughly used, and that’s saying something, considering my father is a gambling addict who has lied to me multiple times in his requests for money over the years.

“Uh-oh. I know that look,” Molly says, answering her own question. “Who’s the guy? Or girl, perhaps?”

“Guy,” I admit as I blow out a breath. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have let myself get so caught up in him. I’m not that girl, you know?”

“We’reallthat girl sometimes, honey,” she replies with a sympathetic smile. “But you keep your head high. The best revenge is a life well-lived, as they say.”

I thank her right as the order for my table comes up from the kitchen. I deliver the double cheeseburger meal and Salisbury steak to my customers, then look around my section to see if I have any tables to clear or a new customer to wait on. Sure enough, a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed beard and a black fedora is sitting in the corner booth.

I can’t think about Marco or his stupid note right now.We need to be apart for now. I’ll contact you when it’s safe. I’m sorry.

That’s it. That’s all he had to say to me after he took my virginity, and he didn’t even have the balls to say it to my face. He’s sorry? Really? Not as sorry as I am for being such an idiot.

Rolling out my shoulders, I shove those thoughts way down deep and paste on a smile as I head over to the back booth. “Good afternoon,” I greet.

The man tips his head up, his tiny brown eyes narrowing the longer he looks at me. His stare rattles me to my bones, but I don’t know why. My stomach twists, and I instinctively step back, though I keep my smile wide as I ask for his order.

The strange man glances around the diner, his shifty eyes making me even more uncomfortable. Just when I’m about to tell him I’ll give him some more time with the menu, he snaps his attention back to me.

“Slice of pie and a Coke,” he grits out.

“What kind of pie? We have cherry, apple, wildberry cheesecake, and French silk.”

The man rolls his eyes as if that’s an obnoxious question.What is this guy’s problem?

“Apple is fine.”

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