Lorenzo: A Grumpy/ Sunshine, Dark mafia Romance (Chicago Ruthless Book 3)
Lorenzo: Chapter 58

Jake manhandles me into small room and shoves me into a chair.

“I get a phone call, right?”

“You’re lucky you’re even walking, bitch. You know what we like to do to cop killers around here?”

“And do you know what my lawyer will do when he replaces out you didn’t give me my phone call?” I snap back, full of bravado and a confidence that I don’t feel. But I was married to a cop for nine years. I know my rights—well, some of them at least. Every nerve in my body is frayed beyond belief. Even my eyelids are trembling with fear. I killed Brad and I’m going to go to prison for the rest of my life.

“You got a lawyer?” he says with a sneer.

I don’t. But the Morettis do, and I know Kat and Dante will help me. “I’m sure you’re aware that my cousin is married to Dante Moretti. And if you’re not familiar with that name, I’m sure your buddy here can fill you in.” I nod toward the cop with gray hair and matching soul patch who greeted us when Jake brought me in.

His eyes go wide as he looks at Jake. “You should probably get her that phone call.”

Jake presses his lips together, anger flashing across his face. “What the fuck?” he mumbles.

Soul Patch steps toward Jake. “I said I’d help you out, man. I didn’t know the Morettis were involved in this. Give her the phone call and you can hold her until one of their lawyers gets here.” He walks out, leaving Jake and me alone.

“I know you fucking killed him, Mia.”

“My phone call?” is all I say in response.

Jake uncuffs me and hands me a telephone. But he stands over me, watching the entire time. I hold the plastic receiver to my face, praying that Kat answers.

“Hello?” The sound of her voice almost makes me cry.

“Kat,” I blurt out. “I’ve been arrested.”

“Mia, honey,” she says with a huge sigh. “We hoped that was you. Are you okay?”

“No,” I sniff.

“Have they hurt you?”

“No. I’m just—they’ve arrested me on suspicion of murder, Kat,” I whisper.

“We’ll get you out of there soon, okay? But I’m going to pass you over to Dante’s lawyer real quick. His name is Drake James.”

I don’t want to talk to a lawyer; I don’t even want to talk to Kat. I need to hear his voice. “Is, uh, is Lorenzo there?”

“I’m here, Mia.” His deep, calm tone cuts through my internal chatter, soothing all those frayed nerves. Even after everything, his voice alone gives me comfort. Kat must have me on speaker. “Listen to Drake. He’s going to have you out of there real soon.”

“Mia, this is Drake,” an unfamiliar voice says. “Don’t say anything. I’ll be there soon. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“We’ve got you, sunshine,” Lorenzo says softly. Sunshine. The memories invoked by that word have me fighting off tears.

“Tell me where you are and exactly what the cop who took you said.”

“I’m at the Fourth and Beacon precinct. He said he was bringing me in on suspicion of murder.” The force of Jake’s glower has me whispering that last word again.

“What’s the cop’s name?” Lorenzo growls.

“J-Jake Mulcahy.”

“Brad’s brother?”

I glance up at Jake and wish I hadn’t because the pure venom in his glare makes me want to throw up. “Yes.”

“Goddamn motherfucker!”

“Is Jake a Boston cop?” Drake asks.

“Yeah.”

Another round of curses and grumbling come from Lorenzo and someone else, maybe Max or Dante.

“Hang tight and I’ll be there as soon as I can. You can’t be under arrest, Mia, because a Boston cop has no jurisdiction in Chicago,” Drake assures me. “Say nothing. You understand me?”

“Y-yeah,” I mumble, but I don’t fully comprehend what he’s saying. I’m not under arrest?

“It will be okay, honey. I promise,” Kat assures me.

“Okay,” I agree, but it won’t be. I killed Brad and Jake must have found out. As much as I despise him, he’s a good cop. He’ll never let his brother’s disappearance go unresolved. It’s only a matter of time before he’s able to charge me for real.

He’s been asking me the same questions for almost an hour now. I’ve refused to answer a single one, and my continued silence is met with increasing agitation. Jake bangs his fists on the table. Pulls at his hair. Snarls in my face, so close that his spittle flecks my cheeks. After my phone call, he cuffed me to the table, so I’m unable to move and unwilling to talk. He should know that a little Mulcahy rage isn’t going to intimidate me—I lived with it for ten long years.

My head hurts so much.

Sunshine. Sucking in deep, even breaths, I repeat the word to myself.

“Could I please get a drink?” I ask. My throat is bone dry and I feel sick.

“When you start answering my fucking questions,” he says with a vicious snarl.

I glower at him. “I’m pretty sure it’s not common practice to deny prisoners a glass of water.”

“Common practice,” he spits. “I should fucking—”

The door bursts open, and a tall, handsome man with impeccably styled hair and one of the finest suits I’ve ever seen strolls into the room.

“Take the cuffs of her. Now,” he demands, his tone even and calm but full of authority, like he’s used to people doing exactly what he says.

Jake glares at him.

“You usually restrain innocent citizens you bring in for questioning, Detective?” he asks. “Unless you want to replace yourself on charges for kidnapping, I suggest you take the cuffs off her right now and let her go.”

“Fucking lawyers,” Jake grumbles under his breath, but he unlocks the cuffs, and I rub at the red marks they left on my wrists.

“Kidnapping?” I blink at the guy in the suit in confusion.

“Ms. Stone? I’m Drake James.” He shoots me a wink. “Detective Mulcahy here has no jurisdiction to arrest you in Chicago. No warrant. No grounds at all to detain you here against your will.” He returns his attention to Jake. “And you can make damn sure your superiors back in Boston will be hearing about this.”

“I have every fucking ground,” Jake says with a snarl. “And there will be a warrant. Soon.” The amount of menace in his voice makes me shiver. “Enjoy your freedom while you can.”

Drake takes my hand and helps me up from my seat. Wrapping a protective arm around me, he escorts me to the door, then stops and glances at Jake. “Threaten my client again, Detective, and I’ll have you charged with harassment. Enjoy that badge while you can.”

Jake glares back at him, the vein in his forehead pulsing. He’s not used to being told what to do, much like his older brother.

My legs shake as we walk down the corridor of the station. I can’t believe it’s over … except it isn’t, really. There’s no chance in hell that Jake is ever going to let this go.

“You okay?” Drake asks as he opens the door onto the street.

“Yes. Thank you for that.” I glance behind me, making sure Jake isn’t going to come after me with an arrest warrant. “You were so good in there.”

He shrugs. “That was nothing. You should see my older brother in action.”

“No, you were super impressive. Thank you.”

“Just doing my job, Ms. Stone.”

“Please, call me Mia.”

“Mia.” Smiling, he guides me down the street. “Mr. Moretti is waiting in the car for you.”

Despite everything, my heart fills with joy. Lorenzo came! Drake opens the car door, and I struggle to hide my disappointment.

Dante reaches for my hand and pulls me into the idling car. “Come on. Let’s get home,” he says with a soft smile that I can’t help but think is full of pity. Am I really so pathetic? I settle into the back seat and Drake climbs into the front beside the driver.

“You run into any trouble at all?” Dante asks him.

“Nope. None,” he answers, eyes fixed firmly ahead.

“So, I wasn’t under arrest at all?” I ask.

“No,” Drake replies.

“We’ll be home soon. There’s no sense in you having to relive this whole ordeal twice.” Dante pats my shoulder. “Unless you need to talk about it right now?”

I shake my head and stare out the window. I don’t want to talk about what just happened, but I would like to know why the hell his cowardly older brother isn’t here instead. He really wasn’t joking when he said I’ll never mean that much to him.

Tears sting the corners of my eyes.

Dante sighs. “You know I couldn’t allow Lorenzo come to get you.”

I turn and blink at him. “What? Why not?”

“Because he would have stormed into that station and probably shot the cop who arrested you, as well as any others who got in his way.”

“You think?”

Shaking his head, he lets out a dark laugh. “Have you met him?”

Relieved that Lorenzo didn’t choose not to come, I sit back and close my eyes for the rest of the drive.

Kat is the first to rush out of the house and greet me when the car pulls up outside the Moretti mansion. She hauls me into her arms for a fierce hug, then steps back and checks me over. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I assure her.

She hugs me again. “I was so worried about you.”

“Me too.” Joey wraps her arms around both of us.

A throat clears.

Stepping back, Joey and Kat glance at each other awkwardly and follow Dante and Drake into the house, leaving me standing outside with Lorenzo. I look down at my feet.

“Mia?” His tone is commanding and deep, and despite myself, I look up at him. His dark eyes smolder with emotion. I can’t do this. Not again. “Did they hurt you?”

I subconsciously rub my wrists. “No.”

He walks down the two steps separating us and stands right in front of me, so close that I feel the heat from his body. He takes my hand and I jerk it back. The memory of his fingers on my skin is too much.

But he holds tight, inspecting the red skin on my wrists. “Who the fuck did this to you? Jake?”

“It’s fine. It was just the cuffs.”

“He put you in fucking cuffs?”

“That’s kind of what they do when they arrest people, Lorenzo.”

“But he didn’t fucking arrest you. He had no warrant.”

I shake my head. This is all too confusing. Every part of it. The whole thing with Jake, and now this with Lorenzo. I hate that I seek his comfort, hate that I can feel how much he cares for me even after those awful things he said. This would all be a lot easier if he acted like that uncaring asshole from the other night.

A thick vein pulses in his neck as he goes on staring at me and holding onto my wrist. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

I jerk my hand away. “Is that your answer to everything? Destroy it?” I swallow down the sob that wells in my throat. We both know I’m no longer talking about Jake.

His eyes flash with pain. “Mia.” My name is spoken like a plea, but I have no idea what he’s pleading for. He destroyed everything we had together.

“You killing Jake isn’t going to help me, Lorenzo. In fact, the only way you can help me is by staying away from me.” Brushing past him, I walk into the house.

With a mug of chamomile tea warming my hands, I recount exactly what happened at the hotel and everything Jake said to me in the interrogation room.

Drake’s brother, Nathan, seems to take charge, asking me questions and probing for more information, not letting up even after Lorenzo scowls at him. Nathan James is a formidable character. Tall and dark and muscular, but leaner than the Moretti brothers. He wears casual slacks and a white polo shirt, but every inch of him screams power and control.

When I’ve gone over my account at least three times and Nathan has asked me dozens of questions, Lorenzo stands and clears his throat. “It’s late,” he says pointedly to Nathan and Drake. “There’s nothing that can’t be discussed in a day or two, after Mia’s had a chance to rest.”

I glance sideways at him, thankful for his intervention.

“Of course.” Nathan stands and Drake follows suit. “I have to fly back to New York for a hearing tomorrow, but I’ll be back in Chicago by Wednesday. I’d like Mia to come in and we can discuss everything in more detail then.” He glances at me and I swallow. I guess that means we’ll be talking about the fact that I actually did murder my husband. I’m sure Lorenzo has told them both that already, but they probably need to hear the full story from me. Isn’t that how these things work?

Lorenzo agrees and pulls Nathan into a brief hug. “Thank you for coming.”

“Any time. I’m just glad I wasn’t needed tonight,” Nathan says, slapping Lorenzo on the back.

Once everyone else is gone and Dante finally persuades an anxious Kat that she needs to get some sleep, I replace myself alone with Lorenzo. I can’t help feeling like this is a setup. I’ve felt his eyes on me all night long. I hate that I still replace more comfort in his presence than I do with anyone else, but he can’t undo what he said.

I fake a yawn and stand. “I guess I’ll head to bed as well. Goodnight.” Lorenzo stands too, and as soon as I open the door, he’s right there behind me. His closeness has goosebumps popping up all over my body.

With one hand above my head, he closes the door and blocks my exit, his body heat warming my back.

“Lorenzo. I’m tired. Please just let me go to bed,” I say with a heavy sigh.

He brushes the hair from the nape of my neck with his free hand, and my skin quivers at his touch. “Can we talk?”

My thighs tremble, but I suck in a deep breath. Stay strong, Mia. You can do this. “I-I have nothing to say to you.”

He moves closer until his warm breath dances over me. My core contracts with pulsing need. “Then listen.”

Listen?! How fucking dare he! I spin around so I’m facing him. “I don’t want—”

He grabs hold of me, one hand in my hair and one on my ass, and seals his mouth over mine, pushing me back into the door. My treacherous body wants to melt against him, but I slam my fists into his chest. It has no impact. He’s an immovable wall. He doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he deepens the kiss, pulling me tighter, and despite my anger at him, wet heat pools between my thighs.

But this can’t happen. He doesn’t get to kiss or fuck me into submission.

Struggling, I try to shove him back, but he holds me in place with his undefeatable strength. I bite his lip, drawing blood, but he simply licks it off and goes back to kissing me. Beating against his chest, I strain to get away from him, but he pins me with the weight of his body and captures my hands in one of his, securing them above my head. I could say my safe word, that would make him stop. He’d never break that trust, right? So why can’t I bring myself to mumble that one word?

Why are my eyes closed and my legs trembling? Tears stream down my cheeks. I don’t know what to think anymore. I want him, but he’s not mine. He’ll never allow himself to be mine. I wrench my lips away and rasp, “Cantaloupe.”

Gasping for breath, he releases me, a pained expression taking over his face. “Mia. Please?”

Tears blur my vision, and I swallow the words that my heart wants me to scream. I cannot let this man rip my soul apart again. I won’t recover from it a third time. “No, Lorenzo. It’s too late. There’s nothing you can say.”

Fumbling for the door handle, I’m relieved when it turns with a soft click. He stares at me without blinking as I slip out of the room and get as far away from him as I can.