Not Mine to Keep (The Costa Family)

Facing me in bed that next morning, my sexy husband smoothed my nipple between his finger and thumb, eyes quietly locked with mine.

We’d barely slept last night. He really had kept his promise to deliver over and over again.

And I’d been a little giddy about how fast I’d had my former playboy husband coming from getting down on my knees to suck him off.

But the shower sex.

Damn.

For such a clean place, it’d been . . . well, dirty (in the best possible way).

He’d taken me against the wall, all right. And nearly took my virgin ass, too, but he’d decided to save that for another night.

Seems the both of us operated at two speeds: zero or sixty. And last night had been pedal-to-the-metal fast, and it was everything and more.

He’d even mentioned something about us living on a farm with kids and animals one day, but that was probably delirious post-orgasm talk.

“You sore?” he asked, changing the conversation in my head from farming to fucking.

Now that’d be quite the song title. Number one on Apple or Spotify for sure.

I did the little nose-crinkling smile I knew he loved and reached for his hand on my tit and brought it between my legs. “Which part? I’m achy all over.”

He returned my smirk and thumbed my sensitive clit. “But a good achy, right?”

I arched into his hand, and what was wrong with me? How was I ready to go again? “I mean, you took excellent care to ensure I felt all kinds of good last night, so most definitely a wonderful achy.”

With his free hand, he tossed the covers back and zeroed in on me. “You’re a little pinker than normal and swollen.”

His concerned brows had me reassuring him. “That’s what happens when you’ve both made love and been properly fucked, I suppose.”

Clocking my chills, because the man didn’t miss a thing, he covered me, then groaned at his phone ringing. Must’ve still been in his pants pocket on the floor.

“Who’d call you at seven in the morning on a Saturday? Maybe you should answer,” I said when it appeared he had no plans to budge from our comfortable place.

“They can wait. I’m not ready to get up.”

“Just get off?” I teased.

“So fucking naughty.” He grabbed hold of me beneath the covers and tangled us up in a warm embrace. “And I’m here for it.” He kissed me, our tongues battling, and I knew where this would go.

But three more calls had me on edge, and him, too, because he stopped kissing me. “Give me a second. And don’t move. I want morning sex with my wife.”

Morning sex with my wife. Music to my ears. The view of my muscular, handsome husband walking naked to grab his phone was more than a pleasant way to start the day.

I not so shamelessly stared at those rock-hard glutes as he bent over to retrieve his phone and began touching myself. Yup, already soaking wet.

When he faced me with his phone now ringing from a fourth call, the worried look in his eyes killed the happy feelings swelling inside me. “It’s Hudson,” he remarked before bringing the phone to his ear.

I sat, back to the headboard, holding the comforter tight at the uneasiness crossing his face while he listened to whatever Hudson told him.

“I’ll be right there,” was all he said before ending the call.

“What’s wrong?”

He cupped his jaw, pointing his eyes toward the ceiling.

My nerves got the best of me and had me crying out, “What is it?”

“Hudson’s man watching your aunt didn’t check in at zero six hundred our time like he normally does every day. Hudson reached out to Gabriel—he couldn’t get ahold of their guy watching her, either.”

“What are you saying?” But I already knew what he was suggesting. Someone got the drop on my overprotective and cautious aunt. We’d corresponded via email two days ago, and she’d been fine and even bought my lies that everything was fine on my end as well.

“Hudson checked the footage from the cruise ship. She never reboarded from the port at the stop in Copenhagen yesterday, and neither did his guy or Armani’s.” He slowly dropped his eyes to meet mine. “He thinks Rocco sent his men to take her. I’m not sure how they found her, but he’s running facial recognition on every one of Rocco’s known associates at the local airport in Denmark.”

I pushed away the covers and stood, too stunned to truly process what he was telling me.

“I’ve been distracted. Hudson and The League suspected something was off because the Barones have been too quiet about us.” He chucked his phone on the bed and tore his hands through his hair. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault she was taken. I should’ve predicted this. Rocco is always three steps ahead of us somehow. He even knew Constantine was coming for his father four years ago and . . . shit.”

“What is it?” I reached for his arm.

“He must have someone on the inside.” His scowl intensified, as if putting something together in his mind. “Of course he would. War is a disgustingly profitable business and—”

“What? Inside of where?”

“Gabriel was in Rome last month, and someone with advanced cyber skills hid the fact he was there.” Without further explaining, he eased free from my grip and grabbed his phone, making a call. “We need to talk on a secure line,” he rushed out a moment later. “And yeah, I know you have one.”

“Is that Gabriel?” I asked, terror still holding my normal voice hostage.

He nodded, barely waiting for the full ring on his cell to answer. “Who do you work for? What government agency? Because someone you’re working with is dirty. They just set us up, and they’re probably also looking to cash in on a new conflict in the Middle East.”

My hands trembled on my lap as Alessandro tore down the road in his Lamborghini. Javier and the others were doing their best to keep up with his pace, following behind us. If we didn’t get pulled over, it’d be a miracle.

He reached for my hand and gave it a quick squeeze before reaching for the gear-shift thing (or whatever it was called) to have us flying off an exit for Oyster Bay in Long Island—apparently, his parents’ other home in New York.

He’d called for his family to be assembled there like they were part of the Justice League, and he’d barely spoken two words to me since he’d ended his call with Gabriel in the bedroom.

“I don’t want to distract you while you’re driving this fast, but, um, if it’s safe to talk . . . ?” I peeked at him, catching his eyes before he focused back on the exit we were taking.

“You can always talk to me.” He slammed on the brakes when a Honda made an abrupt stop before us.

“You’re upset, and I’m shocked and confused. I guess I don’t even know where to begin,” I admitted before my stomach turned as he maneuvered around the next car going too slow for him. “So Gabriel has been working for Italian Intelligence undercover, and so is Leo.” I snagged the other details from memory I’d overheard from their call, wondering if I said it all aloud, it’d somehow make more sense. “Gabriel and Leo have been undercover for years, and that’s how Gabriel knew Constantine had been taken by Rocco four years ago. Someone at the agency is leaking intel to Rocco. It has to be someone at Italian Intelligence who’s unaware Gabriel and Leo are assets.”

I understood why he was driving so fast. My aunt’s life was on the line. Time was of the essence. But I grabbed hold of the oh-shit handle when he took a sharp turn around another bend. One thing was for sure, the man could drive.

“My contact at the CIA was able to corroborate Gabriel’s story,” he finally said, confirming he’d heard me. “The Agenzia Informazioni e Sicurezza Esterna—AISE—recruited Gabriel and Leo. Well, gave them no choice but to turn or face multiple life sentences in prison.”

“But the goal wasn’t to take down the DiMaggios? I’m so confused.” And nauseous from driving so fast.

“No, the mafia’s not who the AISE cares about. Their focus is on foreign problems. Given how many international business deals the DiMaggios are involved in, AISE wanted insiders in the DiMaggio organization to help take down bigger sharks.”

“Like Rocco?” I whispered, connecting the dots.

“Exactly. And it was Gabriel’s case officer in Rome that he met with three weeks ago, not Esposito.” There was relief in Alessandro’s tone that Gabriel hadn’t been the reason why those men had come for me in the park in Nashville.

And yeah, same. I didn’t want Gabriel to be evil. I just never suspected he’d been secretly working for Team Good Guy. “His case officer can’t be the mole at the agency leaking info to Rocco, because Rocco would’ve given up Gabriel’s name to Armani and Marcello.”

“Right, to protect an asset in the field, very few people will know their identity,” Alessandro quickly answered, and when we finally slowed down, I realized it was because we were in suburbia and passing houses. “Which means someone who is part of the task force to take down the Barones, both now and back then, is an insider for the Barones. But that person doesn’t know Gabriel and Leo are assets in the field.”

“You think whoever that person is also told Rocco you were coming for his father four years ago, and that’s how Rocco managed to get ahold of Constantine?”

He swung his focus my way, his jaw locked tight, and nodded. “Thankfully, Gabriel doesn’t know The League is monitoring the compound.”

“Which means the insider doesn’t know you’re aware of Rocco’s real location in Romania. But you don’t think Rocco will have his men bring my aunt there?”

“No.” He turned down another road and further reduced our speed. “He won’t expose his current compound, especially with his father on the verge of starting a new conflict in the Middle East.”

“So how will you track my aunt’s location and ID the inside traitor?”

“Because whoever at AISE miraculously gets intel on her whereabouts is the traitor, and instead of letting them know we’re onto them, we’ll send a team to that location while simultaneously hitting the compound in Romania.”

He stopped outside a gate, punched in a code, and then we began down a long driveway. A gorgeous home was at the end, and other cars were already parked out front.

“And you think Rocco won’t have her killed, not just because she’s bait but . . . ?” I couldn’t finish my words, too queasy from the thought and the drive to get it out.

“You really want me to answer that?”

Unbuckling, I closed my eyes and shook my head. Torture. The sadistic son of a bitch liked to torture people first. “But if he’s not the one who has her, because he’s in Romania, then what?”

At the feel of him squeezing both my hands, I opened my eyes to see him peering at me. “I’ll get her back alive. I promise you. The jet is being prepared as we speak. I’m leaving today.”

“I can’t ask you to risk your life to save her,” I sputtered, tears finally catching up with me as reality grabbed hold of me.

“I’m getting her back. Killing Rocco. And then my family will deal with the other problem.” He let go of one hand to palm my cheek.

The other problem . . . killing Armani and freeing me from the prison of my bloodline. Right.

“My job isn’t done yet.”

“Your job?” I frowned.

“You know what I mean. I’m still in the habit of—”

“Trying to push me away?” My shoulders fell. “Well, just so you know, I don’t ever want you to be done with your job,” I whispered, and he caught a tear with the pad of his thumb. “I thought I made that clear last night.”

His throat bobbed from a hard swallow. “I know,” he began, his voice catching, “but maybe I needed to hear you say it one more time.”