Page 18 of Striker

Shocked, I take a second to respond. I’m so stunned that I barely even register the opulent surroundings; the exquisite furniture that looks straight out of some mid-1950s estate on the Italian Riviera — hand-carved, wooden, elegant.

"What is it?"

Owen gestures, and I follow his motion with my eyes.

I both see it and I don't.

Owen answers my unspoken question with a grave tone.

"There's just one bed."

Chapter Six

Striker

My eyes go from the single, solitary, way-too-fucking-small bed — even though it is at least a California king, probably larger, knowing the arrogance of the Vertucci family — to the woman of my dreams who is standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, hellacious scowl on her face.

"There's just one bed?" She says.

"Just one bed," I answer.

On one hand, it is a nicer bed by far than any I've ever had, and it sure as hell beats a boot camp bunk. If it were just me, I'd starfish on it and there'd be so much space still on either side of me that I might as well be trying to spread across the actual ocean. The night would probably end with me getting the best night of sleep of my life and waking up feeling like I'm ten years younger.

On the other, I have to share this bed with the woman who haunts my dreams and makes my waking hours a nightmare, because no matter how bad I want her, I can never have her because she's Dixon's sister. It's my job to keep her alive, not fuck her brains out, and being surrounded by Mafia hitmen is not the time to test the boundaries of our relationship.

"This won't work. No, it won't work at all."

Dani looks like she’s about to raise hell and storm down to confront the man with a clipboard, and realizing the problems that would make for keeping our cover and keeping her safe, I change my mind.

"You know what, don’t worry about it. It's not a problem."

"Oh, it isn't? Because I think it is a big problem, Owen O'Connell."

"You have nothing to worry about, Dani. I'm not interested in you like that. Not even close," I say. If my life weren't potentially on the line, it'd physically pain me to say those words. As it is, they still sting inside. "I'll sleep on my side. We'll sleep ass to ass or whatever. Hell, I'll even sleep fully clothed, if that makes you more comfortable."

"You're not interested in me?" She repeats, voice low, weak. It hurts to say it. It hurts even more to hear it coming from her. I want to interrupt, to correct her, but I know it'd be stupid, suicidal, even. "Great to know that the feeling’s mutual."

"What I mean is you don't have to worry about me making a move on you. I'll sleep like I said: clothed, as far away from you as the bed allows."

"That won't work. Owen, you don't get it. You have no idea what's going on here, do you?" She says, tone and pitch rising higher. Frantic.

I shrug. It seems clear enough to me. As large and clear as the elephant-sized bed in the room. A bed that, even now, I'm thinking about pulling her onto, stripping off the blouse she's wearing, ripping away her pants, and silencing her by making her scream my name into the pillow as I eat her pussy.

Being alone in a bedroom with Danielle Green is a dangerous proposition when it comes to keeping to my promise to Dixon; her beauty is poison, her smile's a knife, even her furious eyes are lethal to my loyalty to her brother.

I have to keep control of myself.

"Of course I know what’s going on. We're talking about sleeping arrangements."

She shakes her head and sighs with a measure of disappointment that has me feel like I'm back in my first week of boot camp and the drill sergeant's just seen the way I tie my boots; they always look at you like you’re their kid who’s just come home on break from med school and told them they wanted to drop out to pursue a life of beat poetry and acoustic guitar.

"You obviously don't understand. This just won't work."

"Fine. I'll sleep on the floor at the base of the bed like a dog, if that's what it takes to make you comfortable. I've slept in worse places. Give me one pillow, that's all I need."

With each word, the look on Dani's face changes from general frustration to gnawing anger. She throws her hands up. "You're impossible."

"Impossible?"

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