Page 72 of Memento Mori
“All I know is she was headed to Santa Monica?
“And you don’t know her name?” I asked.
“I heard someone speaking with her over the phone one time and they called her Celia.”
“No last name?”
He shook his head.
I pressed the nail gun against his forehead. His eyes widened for just a moment. “That’s all I need.” I squeezed the trigger, stopping any protest he would have.
As soon as I gave the nail gun to Luca, the chapel doors burst open and there was my husband, in all his glory. As he stood with his cane, his eyes transformed from anger to desire as I approached. As soon as I got to him, I scraped my nails along his chest. Just as I was about to reach the waistband of his slacks, he grabbed my wrist.
“Bella,” he asked, his brow arched, “Who did you wear that outfit for?”
I replied sweetly, “Of course, it’s for you.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk.”
I couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across my face. “Give me your best shot, husband.”
Chapter Thirty
I’VE GOT YOU B*TCH
Antonio
Was I one hundred percent healthy? No. But I was damned close to it. I had a little minor pain, but not enough to keep me from having to do what I needed to do, which included killing Agent Grasso. I wanted to enjoy his death, but I didn’t get the chance.
One week later, I couldn’t shake off the lingering frustration that Aaliyah had taken it upon herself to eliminate Agent Grasso. The least she could have done was waited until I woke up.
Along with her thoroughly fucking me and the pain pills, I couldn’t help but fall asleep. I never believed she would kill him without me. When I saw what she was wearing, I wished I could resurrect Grasso just to make him regret laying his eyes on her.
“Are you still pouting?” she asked.
She was sitting beside me. I glared at her which didn’t make her stop smiling.
“I’m not pouting,” I said even though I probably was because all I could think about was how I missed her teaching that motherfucker that we were not the ones to be played with. She always looked hot as fuck when she showed people she wasn’t the one they wanted to mess with.
“Sure, you’re not,” she said, laughing. “You’ve been huffing since we woke up. It’s been a week, Tony. You took on Grasso’s grandfather by yourself and almost got killed while you left me behind. I let it go. You need to let it go, too.”
We were in our bedroom, and it was cold as shit. I could never understand how working in the fucking cold made her brain work better, but Aaliyah swore the colder she was, the better the information flowed. And she got shit done so who was I to question her methods. So, I’d freeze my nuts off until she found what she was looking for.
Aaliyah was working on narrowing down the identity of the Ghost and carefully piecing together clues to where she was in Santa Monica. She’d been in communication with some of her contacts to see if anyone had any information. And we still had no clue who this bitch was other than her first name being Celia.
“How many fucking Celia’s could there be in Santa Monica,” she mumbled, as her fingers flew across the keys. It was always amazing to watch her work. She always looked so intensely focused, and it made me horny as fuck.
“You need to make it up to me,” I said.
As her fingers stopped, she fixed me with a questioning gaze, her brow raised in curiosity. “What do you mean, I need to make it up to you?”
Nodding, I gently took her computer from her lap and carefully placed it on the nightstand next to my side of the bed.
“You need to make it up to me,Bella. You left me behind and you wore that fucking cat suit, knowing the reaction it would get from Grasso.”
She rolled her eyes. “And what do you think I should do to make it up to you, Tony?”
I brushed the pad of my thumb across her pert nipples that were showing through the thin tank top she wore, which was one of the reasons I loved watching her work. She always wore a thin tank and panties. Never in the nude which would be better, but her standard tank and panties was a very close second. Today she wore a light pink tank, that I was sure matched her underwear.
