The Wife Assignment (Rogue Protectors Book 5)

That day started with moving myself into Kelly’s house. Dropping my duffel in her bedroom, I smirked. She could kick me out later, but as far as I was concerned, she’d earned herself full-contact protection.

Bristow came by to help me upgrade her security system. After years of putting me off, she didn’t argue. The girls tried to bring up the puppy conversation to segue into the security around the house, but their mom was onto their antics and tabled that talk for another day. They were as opportunistic as I was, and that made me a proud dad.

Kelly’s expertise in SFX came in handy. The blue-black discoloration and swelling on her face became mere smudges the kids didn’t fuss over. She mumbled something about contour makeup.

That evening, Kelso filled us in on the investigation’s progress. In addition to the detective, Migs Walker, who was a part of my team, came by with Ariana. Kelly spoke to her after lunch, and Migs’ wife suggested a vitamin infusion to help with the recovery and the stress. The men gathered around the kitchen drinking beer while Kelly was in the living room with the girls, hooked up to an IV bag. Ashley and Whitney kept asking questions, fascinated by the yellow liquid dripping into their mom.

“Any lead from the sketches Kelly provided you?” I asked Bristow.

“Not yet,” he replied, glancing at the detective. “Sent you a link to download it.”

“I’ll get Nadia on it.”

Bristow said, “There’s also a partial sketch of the man with Blaze at the studio. I’m thinking he’s the one who messed with the surveillance.”

The man was in profile, not much to use for facial recognition, but once we identified Blaze and his associates, I was sure the rest would follow. The sketch of Blaze, however, was detailed and even included specific lines of his face. I hated that it was etched in my wife’s memory. It was etched in mine too. If I could conjure up that fucker, I would. But killing him seemed too easy for retribution. The way I was seething inside, torturing him for days before ending him was what I had in mind.

“I called my friend in the Vegas PD,” Kelso said. “Since Roth’s been doing business there, I wonder if he got mixed up with the ROCC.”

“Russian Organized Crime Collective,” I said. It was the official term LEOs used for the Russian mafia. Cadres were the smaller groups who controlled each location.

“Yup,” Kelso said. “Simon Stepanov is the man who runs the Vegas cadre, but he is the head of Murder Sanctum.”

“I’ve heard about the organization,” Bristow said. “They’re like the modern-day Murders Inc.”

“You’re talking about the society of hitmen in the 50s?” I asked.

“Yes,” Kelso said. “Blaze could be one of theirs. Since it was a De Lucci resort that Roth was dealing with, I’ve reached out to Kelly’s uncle and he pointed me in a different direction when it came to Stepanov.”

I stilled at the detective’s next words. “Kelly’s Chicago family.”

“You think they’re involved?” I asked.

The detective shrugged. “Anything is possible at this point and Chicago has had dealings with the ROCC, especially the one in Vegas.”

“Are you saying this is about Kelly, rather than Roth?”

“We can’t confirm until we identify the men involved in her abduction.”

“Don’t forget there’s also the one who tried to whack Tom.”

Kelso pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. I have a feeling we’re only scratching the surface here and this shit gets deeper.”

“Man, and I thought my wife was complicated,” Migs said. Ariana was the sister of a former crime lord of Los Angeles who had deep connections to the cartels. “But your wife is connected to both Chicago and New York, right?”

“Don’t remind me,” I muttered. I hated both sides of her Italian family. Her abandonment issues ran deep because of those assholes. She was lucky she grew up with the McGraths.

“Nadia is going through old files to find a link between Murder Sanctum, the Vegas mob, and Chicago—the Moretti Crime family,” Kelso said. “Emilio Moretti broke ties with the ROCC a few years ago. A disagreement over something, no one is talking.”

“Everything about mob activities is rumor,” I murmured to no one in particular. “When does she go on maternity leave?” Nadia was married to our seemingly cold-hearted, invincible leader John Garrison who had succumbed to true love. They were expecting their first child in a few weeks. We got a kick out of teasing him because despite the many times he’d escape gunfire, terrorists, and a near beheading, his downfall was a broken condom and a nerdy crime analyst.

“When the baby pops she says,” Kelso laughed. “If Garrison had his way, she’d be on bed rest. You should see those two argue.”

“He seems busy enough with prospective fatherhood, he barely checks in with me,” I said.

“He said you’re in charge,” Migs said.

“Did you all have to have babies at the same time,” I groaned. “When’s Ariana due?”

“Six weeks.” The soft smile that curved Migs’ mouth was a familiar one. That was the same smile I had when I was in pictures with Kelly and my girls.

“Man.” Kelso glanced at Bristow. “Aren’t you freaked out hanging around these dudes? They’re falling like flies.”

Bristow eased back in his chair and drew on his beer. “Terrified.”

Everyone burst out laughing.

I walked to the edge of the kitchen and leaned against the entrance to the room. “You ladies need anything?”

“Almost done,” Ariana replied. “Tell Migs to get out the carnitas and cheese dip I have in the cooler.”

“You didn’t have to bring food too,” I told her.

“Hey, no rejecting tacos, bro,” Bristow said from behind me. A scuffle of feet and a hushed argument ensued between Bristow and Migs.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Ariana’s husband warding off Bristow’s hand on the cooler.

“Just helping out,” Bristow protested.

“Helping out? You’re going to eat everything. Let the pregnant woman and the kids eat first.”

“Migs,” Ariana called. “There’s plenty. I made extra for Bristow.”

“See?” Bristow grinned. “Your wife loves me.”

“How about I punch that smirk off your face?” Migs shot back.

A tug on my shirt diverted my attention to Ashley’s upturned face.

“You hungry, baby girl?”

She shook her head.

“What’s going on?”

“Auntie Ari has a big tummy.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or worry about my child’s tact. “You didn’t say that to her face, did you?”

Again, she shook her head.

“There’s a baby in there,” she said not so quietly, then her eyes widened. “I felt it move!”

I grinned. “You moved too.” I sank to my haunches. “But it’s not really in the tummy. There’s a part of women called a womb.”

“But how do babies get in there?”

I realized that the men had stopped arguing, so I glanced behind me again. Motherfuckers’ faces were red from trying not to laugh.

“Well?” Ashley insisted, pulling my attention back to her.

“Uh …”

“Having problems explaining the birds and the bees, Daddy?” Kelly called.

I rose, lifted my curious daughter in my arms and walked over. “Did you put her up to it?”

“She asked Ariana,” Kelly couldn’t help laughing. The minx. “We just needed a little time to frame our response properly.”

“Well, baby girl, I’ll leave it to your mom.” I lowered Ashley and might have double-timed it back to the kitchen, but not before hearing the egg and sperm conversation. When Kelly asked for a separation, I had to read up on parenting books and learned it’s around six years old when kids become curious about shit like that. According to the book, it was also important to use the right terms and not dumb them down. I certainly didn’t remember Whitney asking about it.

“Chickened out, Dad?” Migs chuckled.

“Wait until you have to explain it to your kid,” I mumbled.

“But how does the baby come out?” Ashley asked loudly.

Kelly calmly explained the birth canal and the vagina.

Migs continued pulling out the food containers from the cooler and transferred the items to the kitchen island. “Ariana is handling that talk. When my son comes of age, I’m just going to throw a box of condoms at him.”

Kelly

“Well, that was fun.” I told Levi as we waved off Ariana and Migs. Kelso and Bristow left an hour earlier, the former saying he had to leave early the next day for Vegas. As for Levi’s buddy, he was a bachelor so I guess he had better things to do on a Sunday night than to hang around a married couple and their kids.

“Ariana’s belly is huge,” I added.

“Yes, your daughter mentioned that.”

I laughed lightly and shook my head. Straight from the mouth of babes. Wasn’t that the saying? Thankfully, the girls had gone to bed.

We headed up the stairs, my mind on our sleeping arrangement. Levi dropped his things in my bedroom. I was conflicted about his presumptuousness. In his defense, the kids did catch us in bed for two straight mornings, and I couldn’t deny we were doing naughty things that first time. My cheeks flamed at the memory.

“Ari told me it’s only one baby. Twins do run in Migs’ family.” The man had five sisters. Five. Ariana also told me what an amazing brother he was, and it just made her fall for him harder.

“What’s that sigh about?” Levi asked with amusement.

“They look so in love.” I glanced behind me and nearly rolled my eyes. Predictably, he was staring at my ass.

“Hey, are you saying we don’t?”

We reached the top floor. “I think ours is a mature love.”

He pulled me into our bedroom and boxed me in against the wall. “That sounds boring.” His eyes scanned my face. “Don’t I give you butterflies anymore, sweetheart?”

He’d given me a lot of stomach flutters lately, and he hadn’t said sweetheart in a while either. When we’d still been together, he used that endearment often, usually in a sexy drawl invoking a tingle from my navel to the core. I didn’t recall him calling me sweetheart during our separation, and most definitely not during our random hookups. And I annoyed myself for being annoyed because he had every right to withhold a part of himself while being uncertain about us. Something had changed when I gave him the green light that we had a second chance. Somehow my observation of another married relationship had challenged him, but it also made me want to tease him.

“You do,” I admitted, but since he was cocky enough, I added. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes only, huh?” The gleam in his eyes told me he knew I was totally lying.

“When you don’t piss me off,” I retorted, but it came out a bit breathless. “By the way, it was quite presumptuous of you to put your duffel in my room.”

He glanced over his shoulder at his things and shrugged while still having me caged in. “Sleeping in different bedrooms will confuse the girls. They’ve seen us in the same bed the past two nights. Has your decision changed about giving a go to our marriage?”

“No,” I said. “But I thought we could take it slow, and sleeping in the same bedroom could muddle things.”

“Things were already muddled up anyway when we weren’t sleeping in the same bed and just fucked to scratch an itch.”

I winced at his language, but he was not wrong.

“But the problem is not about sharing a bed,” he said. “Besides, I’m not going to fuck you despite those damned mixed signals—”

I gasped in outrage and glared at him

He stared at me steadily. “Not after you’ve just been attacked.”

“But I feel fine,” I whined.

His brow arched. “You mean you want me to fuck you right now?” He leaned in closer and my nipples reacted like Pavlov’s dog, aching to be touched.

“Well, not exactly put like that.” I was unsettled from the mixed signals comment. “And they weren’t mixed signals. It’s conflict. You know our chemistry in bed always gets in the way of us having a conversation.”

He raised a hand to my mouth and stroked the cut. “I want to kiss the shit out of your beautiful lips, and it’s not possible right now.” His fingers stroke down my jaw, down the side of my neck and circled around the bruising hidden under the concealer. Then they traveled down the side of my breast before tracing lower.

“Levi,” I whispered.

His chocolate eyes turned molten. Finally, his fingers reached the waistband of my lounge pants, and he didn’t hesitate to slip his fingers inside. I arched and moaned when he touched my clit. He never failed to find the mark.

“Damn, you’re so wet.”

I didn’t answer him, just gave in to the way his fingers massaged the tender flesh.

“That’s it,” he said. “Ride it, babe.”

It didn’t take long. It never did. I should be embarrassed but I shuddered as the ripples of my orgasm hit me. He kept the heel of his hand at that sweet spot and prolonged my pleasure. And as my shudders faded away, he withdrew his fingers and I watched him lick them.

My filthy lover.

He loved my taste.

“Delicious,” he said as if he’d had the most satisfying dessert. I frowned when he backed away.

Again?

He was hard.

“This is getting ridiculous, Levi.”

He adjusted his cock, and I nodded to it. “That must be begging for my hand.”

He backed up to the bed and sat on it, tapping the mattress. “I’d pass on the hand job if you let me sleep with you tonight.”

My lips twitched. “Would you now?”

“Sleeping beside you tonight would be more satisfying,” he paused. “Well … for now.”

“I’m getting the sacrifice of it all and I appreciate it.” I approached him and got between his knees. His arms came up automatically to caress my backside. “But don’t you think it’s ridiculous?”

“No, I don’t, because I don’t want to pass up the opportunity to get things off my chest. If we fuck, we’ll never talk.”

“That’s my line.”

“Kelso wants you to call Chicago. See if they know anything.”

Blood left my face and I sank beside him. “Are they … are they involved?”

“Don’t know yet. Straight up, I hate that you have to deal with them.”

Thinking of Chicago brought my insecurities into focus. I was five when I found out that Uncle Charles was my biological father. No wonder he’d been trying his best to take me to parks and even my first day of school. He just wasn’t cut out to be a parent though. At Aunt Ava’s wedding, I was brought in front of this old forbidding-looking man who asked me questions I didn’t want to answer. He was Giovanni Rossi, my grandfather, and was the boss of the Rossi Crime family at that time.

When I turned ten, the McGraths sat me down and explained to me the whole sordid story. I knew Charles had been in jail when I was born, so it wasn’t like he had a choice to abandon me. I think the hardest part was knowing my mother Sofia Rossi gave me up voluntarily when she wasn’t destitute at all. Nona Rossi took her to Italy and kept her hidden until she gave birth. They returned in secret and reached out to the McGraths. And the rest was history. All rights to me were surrendered. So legally, I was a McGrath. Charles’ older brother Robert and his wife, Madelyn, were my parents. And although Charles tried to be a real dad, he never got his shit together, and I was already too attached to Mom and Dad and my brothers, Callum and Ronan. That hurt a lot too, knowing they weren’t really my brothers but my cousins. But they never treated me as the outcast of the brood even when our youngest sister, Alana, was born.

My head throbbed just thinking about my family history.

“Say the word, I’ll tell Kelso to forget about it,” Levi said. “Or I could be the one to talk to Chicago.” He took my hand and said, “Give me your eyes, beautiful.”

I did.

“I know there’s something messed up in there.” He tipped his chin in the general direction of my head. “I know it’s not because of me, but it’s because you never fully got over what Sofia did. It’s rooted deep in you, babe.” His face grew troubled. “I may not have been the cause of the initial mess, but I made it worse.”

When I was about to open my mouth, he narrowed his eyes, so I said nothing.

“I shut down on you in the two years following Callum’s death. That mission took him from us, and it wasn’t my fault. I accept that now. What I can’t accept is what I did to you. How it only made your abandonment issues worse. A reopened wound takes more time to heal. The scarring is deeper, uglier. The mark may never go away, and that’s on me.” His grip on my hand tightened. “I think I got some things right in these past eighteen months trying to get us back on track, like dealing with my anger and Callum’s death. They were sort of related. Being a better father to our girls. I also understood why you wanted to keep my shit from them. What I got wrong was using our physical connection to keep my hooks in you without talking about what’s broken. And you telling me to leave your bed before the kids wake up is telling me we’re still broke. But we’re making progress, and I’m not fucking that up. I don’t want to fuck you and have you kick me out of bed the next morning. That’s a vicious cycle. It’s got to stop.” He looked at me without saying a word for a long time and then, “Well?”

My smile was small, but he smiled wide.

It was the most words Levi had spoken about our problems, about understanding how his actions had affected my own deeply rooted ones. “We’re making progress. But you seem to be shouldering the blame. I got comfortable … you let me get comfortable. And the sex? I didn’t just fall on your cock, right? We were both consenting adults. I’m not a damned underaged virgin. And Levi?”

“Hmm …”

“We can sleep together.”

He exhaled a long shuddering breath, got up, and started to pace, rubbing his fingers across his jaw.

Confused, I asked, “Was that not what you—”

He surged to his knees in front of me, and pushed mine apart. He raised his hands to cup my face tenderly. “Thanks, babe, for giving me this chance.”

Then he kissed me gently on the lips, but I felt the zap all the way to my toes.

Guess my husband still gave me butterflies.