Page 23 of Falling for Carla

“Yeah,” I said and hung up. Not on an unsecured phone I wouldn’t. I looked over and saw Carla still clutching her phone. I took it from her gently and turned it off. At a stoplight, I removed the battery and put it in my pocket. I did the same to mine. We weren’t going to be traceable that way.

“Basic precaution,” I said, “so they’re not tracking our phones. I’ll get you a burner phone you can call out on.” She nodded. “You’re safe,” I said. She nodded again, still looking straight ahead not even glancing at me.

I drove to my place, parked in the secure lot and told her to wait in the car while I got out and took the extra plates out of my trunk. I changed mine out, using a set from a salvage yard that wouldn’t trace back to me. You can take the cop off the force, but you can’t take away the tricks of the trade.

When I tossed my plates in the trunk, I checked my bag like always—a gym bag that had some nondescript street clothes, a cap, sock hat, sunglasses, old shoes and some supplies in it. I’d been undercover plenty of times and knew enough to keep a kit at the ready. Then I got Carla out of the car. She looked left and right, nervous.

“Let’s get you inside,” I said. Then I took her up the private elevator after a roundabout walk there to avoid the cameras in the garage. I didn’t want her showing up on any surveillance that might be nearby.

CHAPTER 18

CARLA

His big hand was warm at the small of my back as he guided me into an apartment. I looked around and then it clicked. I wasn’t sure how I’d gotten here, but I was safe.

“Is this your place?” I asked.

“Make yourself at home,” he said.

I walked over to the big couch and sat in front of a ridiculously oversized flat screen TV. “So you live in an IMAX theater?” I asked, trying to put some humor I didn’t feel in my voice.

“What can I say? I like to feel like I’m at the game when I watch it.”

He went into the kitchen and came out a couple of minutes later with a glass of water and a mug.

“Cold water, then you need to drink this. Coffee with lots of sugar. It’s good when you’ve had a shock.”

“I thought whiskey was good when you have a shock,” I said.

“Not really. It just makes you warm and confused. This will help,” he said.

I took the water and drank it, then reached for the coffee curling my hands around the thick warm mug. I took a sip. Way too much sugar, but it soothed me somehow, telling my brain that I was okay.

After a couple of sips I set it down on the side table.

“My father’s dead,” I blurted out. The reality of it set in when I spoke the words.

“Those men were after me,” I said grimly.

“That’s my guess, yeah.”

“My brother called me to say I should watch my back because things were heating up. He wanted to put guards on me. I blew him off,” I said, still reeling in disbelief.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“You already saved my life. Like a dozen times or something,” I said ruefully. He must think I was a hot mess, I thought with regret. Because right there in the middle of being stunned by my father’s death and recovering from not one but two attempts on my life in the same day, I was distracted by how delicious this man was.

I took another sip of coffee, then I turned toward him. “Thank you. If it weren’t for your instincts and your skills, I’d be a hostage or a body outline on the floor right now. A lot of people probably would’ve run the other way when that kind of trouble showed up.”

“Never,” he said. “Do you really think I’d go off and leave you? They already tried to run you down, then they stormed your apartment. This is serious shit, Carla, and no matter how independent you’re used to being, you can’t do this alone. I’m going to assume you won’t agree to go into protective police custody. Safe house? Uniform on the door?”

“No thanks,” I said distastefully. “I basically grew up under house arrest thanks to my dad—never went anywhere unaccompanied or got to hang out with my friends or anything. For my safety and so he could control me. I was supposed to be an asset to the family. I was valuable because I was important to my mom and he wanted to keep her around, and because when I was old enough, I could be brokered to another family as a bride to form an alliance. There were so many arguments I overheard before my mom died, because he wanted to try and marry me to Enzo and use it to leverage a takeover of their syndicate once I had a son.” I shuddered at the thought.

“I’m glad you got out of there,” he said, unable to hide his disgust at my story, “you’re safe here for the time being.”

“He’s dead, Drake. I have to get back to New York.”

“No way in hell,” he said.

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