My gut also told me Jerry was at the root of it somehow, and that just made it all the more unbearable. I’d trusted him enough to put him in charge of my family, just so I could go off and pretend to live a normal life. That lapse in judgement was something I’d always have to live with.

  I sighed and scrubbed my hands over my face. My anger and regret were like a riptide, ready to pull me under the moment I waded in a little too deep. For my husband’s sake, I made myself take a step back.

  After another minute, I went upstairs, then paused at the door to our bedroom. What I saw pushed all those negative thoughts out of my mind and brought a little smile to my lips. Charlie had decided to set the scene for seduction. He was naked on top of the dark blue bedding, the soft music was still playing, and the room was lit by a dozen candles. But I’d kept him waiting so long that he’d fallen asleep.

  I leaned against the doorframe and studied him. Charlie was the most beautiful thing in all the world to me. He had a strong, athletic body and smooth skin that looked golden in the candlelight. He’d gotten a tan when I’d taken him to Hawaii for Christmas, everywhere except his perfect little ass, which was on display since he’d fallen asleep on his stomach.

  In a lot of ways, it was terrifying to love someone as much as I loved Charlie. If anyone wanted to lash out at me, all they had to do was hurt him. I fucking hated the fact that our love for each other painted a target on his back.

  But loving him was completely nonnegotiable. I belonged to him, just like he belonged to me. If loving me put Charlie at risk, that just meant I had to fight harder, and be tougher and smarter and stronger than anyone who might want to harm him.

  He made me vulnerable, but he also made me determined, focused, and driven. I was going to track down the people who’d set that fire, and I was going to make them pay, not only for Charlie, but for Nana, and my brothers, and everyone else who was counting on me, everyone who’d almost lost their life in that fire. I owed it to them. It was my fault. I’d decided to retire and put my cousin in charge. I’d started that fucking chain of events. But I was going to make it right, even if it killed me.

  And in the meantime, I was going to enjoy every minute I had with my gorgeous husband.

  I stripped myself, climbed onto the bed, and licked his thigh. He’d showered after he got home, and his skin smelled and tasted so good. Charlie woke up when I ran my tongue over his butt cheek and grinned drowsily as I kissed my way across his lower back. When I slid my hands up his arms and began massaging his broad shoulders, he murmured, “Feels great.”

  Even though he enjoyed the massage, it became obvious he wanted something else when he started grinding his cock against the mattress. I spread his ass and ran my tongue between his cheeks, and he drew in his breath and murmured, “Oh fuck.” When I reached underneath him and stroked his growing hard-on, he made the cutest little mewling sound.

  It grew louder when I pushed the tip of my tongue inside his perfectly clean little ass, and his cock twitched and swelled in my hand. I pushed my tongue in deeper, stretching him open while my cock throbbed. I tongue-fucked him for a while before licking my finger and slipping it deep inside him. When I caressed his prostate, Charlie cried out and thrust into my fist.

  He got up on his knees with his head and arms still on the mattress and tried to drive himself onto my finger, overcome by pleasure. When he cried out again, it drove me wild. But I took my time, letting the anticipation build for both of us. I grabbed some lube from the nightstand, worked two slick fingers into him, and lubed his cock, then started jerking him off. I edged him for several minutes, slowing my strokes whenever he got close to orgasming. When he finally came, I wanted it to be pure ecstasy.

  My husband started to tremble after a while, moaning and thrusting into my hand. He didn’t change position, though. Charlie tended to be submissive in the bedroom and was willing to go wherever I led him. We didn’t have a sub/Dom relationship, though. It had started out a lot like one, but over the years it had evolved into something more as I learned to open myself up to him.

  I knew what I wanted that night. When neither of us could wait any longer, I lubed my cock and rolled onto my back (we’d been monogamous for years, so condoms weren’t in the picture anymore). Charlie climbed on top of me, straddled my hips and impaled himself on my hard-on, moaning as he took me balls-deep.

  He began riding me almost frantically, and I wrapped my hands around his hips and said, “Slower, angel. I want this to last.” I could tell it was an effort to comply, but he slowed his pace, his skin gleaming with sweat as he locked eyes with me.

  His tight, hot ass felt amazing, and watching him as he rode me was incredibly erotic. I jerked him off while he bounced on my cock, and when I braced my feet on the bed and began thrusting up into him, he drove himself onto me, slamming his ass onto my hips. The sound of our bodies colliding filled the room. Charlie grasped my arms for support, totally unaware that he was sinking his short fingernails into my skin. It would leave marks, but I didn’t care.

  As my orgasm built, I sat up and pushed into him, stroking his cock while I clutched him tightly. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and held my gaze, still so wild, so overcome with need, but holding himself back. He didn’t want to finish until I did.

  I grunted as I shot into him, and my voice was gravelly when I told him to cum for me. His cock twitched in my hand and he yelled as he came all over his stomach and chest. He continued to drive himself onto my cock, riding it until both of us were completely spent, and when we stilled, he was shaking.

  I eased my cock from his body, reclined against the pillows and folded the blanket over both of us as we came down slowly. My husband curled up on my chest and flashed me a goofy, satiated grin as I held him tight. It was so cute that I grinned too and kissed him.

  “I really needed this tonight,” I told him as I combed his hair back from his forehead with my fingers.

  “I know,” he said, tracing my collarbone with a fingertip. “You were distracted all day.”

  “Was I? Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I know you have a lot on your mind.”

  I thought about that and said, “It’s almost New Year’s. Last year at this time, I vowed to redouble my efforts to find the people behind the fire. At that point, six months had passed. Now it’s been a year and a half, and every day that goes by, the trail gets colder.”

  “It’s just a matter of time before you or the investigators you hired or the SFPD come up with a lead.”

  “I know. Waiting is hell, though.” Charlie held me a little tighter, and after a pause, I said, “I went by the house I grew up in tonight.”

  “I’d wondered if that’s what you were doing when you told me you were going for a walk.”

  “How’d you know? I don’t do that very often.”

  His voice was so gentle as he said, “Because you miss your parents more than ever at Christmas. You didn’t talk about them when we were in Hawaii, and I know that’s because you were trying to keep everything upbeat for my sake. But I figured once we got back to San Francisco, you’d have to find a way to deal with the pain.”

  “I’m still surprised you put that together.”

  He ran his fingertips over my short beard and said, “I know you better than anyone, Dante, just like you know me. I know when you’re hurting and when you’re trying to shield me from it. I know things about you that you don’t even know about yourself.”

  I kissed his forehead and said, “Never tell me about them.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you see all kinds of things I don’t want you to. I hate it when you watch me fail.”

  “When do you ever fail?” I met his gaze levelly, and he sat up and shook his head. “Oh no. Don’t you dare feel guilty about the fire! None of that was your fault! It’s also not your fault that whoever was behind it hasn’t been caught.”

  “Of course it was my fault,” I said quietly. “I’m the one who turned Jerry against the family, and that’s what sent him to the Messinas and probably also led to the fire. And then, while it was happening, I couldn’t do a damn thing to save you, or Nana, or my brothers, or any of the people I love.”

  “Neither could I! None of us could, except for Jessie.”

  I flashed on fragments of that terrible night: the terror in Charlie’s eyes, Nana looking so tiny and lost, my brother Vincent pulling his husband close as the room filled with smoke and the flames climbed the walls. All the exits had been locked, and there were no windows. Nana’s former chauffeur Jessie, who I loved like a brother, had been the only one small enough to wriggle through a narrow transom above the door, and then he’d crashed a car into the building and knocked down a wall to give us an escape route. I thanked God for Jessie and would be grateful to him the rest of my life. But at the same time, I was furious with myself for having been so useless that night.

  My husband cupped my cheek and said gently, “I get why this hurts so much. You’re used to being the family’s suit of armor, the thing that protects us all. It had to feel awful, knowing that for once, you couldn’t be the one to save us. But you don’t have to take on that role alone, Dante. Other family members can carry the burden of keeping us safe, right along with you. That night proved it.”

  I said, “I’d love to stop talking about this.”

  “You got it.” Charlie kissed me before settling onto my chest again. His weight on me was a comfort. I caressed his back and his smooth, round ass, and after a while he changed the subject by saying, “I have a request for the next time we have sex.” I knew what he was going to say. My cock stirred at the very thought of it.

  When we first got together, there was only one way I could have sex. I needed to tie my partner down, and I had to whip or at the very least spank him before fucking him. I couldn’t get off any other way. It didn’t take a psychotherapist to figure out why I’d been like that, or to explain to me that it all came down to control. That was true for so much of my life. I couldn’t stand being vulnerable, not even a little, in or out of the bedroom.

  I’d felt so guilty about doing that to Charlie when we first met that I’d almost broken up with him. But much to my surprise, he actually got off on it. His submissive side craved being tied down, and he’d get rock hard when I’d spank him and beg for more. Since pain was an aphrodisiac for him, my kink and his dovetailed like we were made for each other. It had been so engrained in me that I’d even had a home dungeon when we met, and later I built one in Charlie’s and my apartment.

  But over four years, I’d evolved. We both had. As I learned to trust and to open myself up to my husband, the BDSM elements of our sex life fell away. These days, it wasn’t that I had to tie him up or spank him every time we fucked. Instead, it just became one of the things on our menu, an occasional fun variation. Needing to do it was replaced with wanting to.

  I considered that progress, given the insecurity and blinding need for control that had fueled it back then. We’d even decided against installing a dungeon in our new house, because it just wasn’t a big part of our life anymore. To me, that said a lot.

  But Charlie still craved sexual domination, and at the same time, that part of me would never fully be exorcised. So when he hinted at wanting something else, I knew what he meant without asking. I murmured, “Absolutely,” and kissed his forehead, and he grinned and closed his eyes.

  “Don’t let me fall asleep,” he said. “I need to get cleaned up.” He was already drifting off, though.

  I shifted him onto the mattress and retrieved a damp washcloth and towel from the bathroom. As I gently washed the cum from his body, he watched me with heavy lids and a sweet smile. “I love you so much,” he murmured as I dried his skin. “More than anything.”

  I kissed his forehead and said, “I love you too, angel.” He fell asleep soon after. I brushed his hair back and pulled the blanket to his shoulders, and watched him for a few moments before heading to the shower.

  Chapter Three

  Maybe an hour later, I was propped up in bed beside my sleeping husband, reading the New York Times on my laptop. It was one of several papers I read each day. I also paid people to monitor the news for me, so my efforts were fairly redundant, but it felt better than doing nothing.

  Chances were slim that my cousin Jerry or any member of the Messina family would do something to wind up in the headlines. They were people who knew how to fly beneath the radar. The arsonist was another story, because fires made the news. He’d clearly been a professional, and eventually, he’d strike again, somewhere in the world. Whether it followed the same pattern and linked him to the attack on my family was anyone’s guess.

  When my phone buzzed on the nightstand, I frowned. Texts at midnight were never good news. The message was from Cameron Doyle, the police department’s lead arson investigator, who’d become a close friend over the last eighteen months. He’d written: I just spotted Mick Messina’s nephew Steven at a nightclub.

  I swung out of bed and hurried downstairs as I dialed Doyle’s number. He was obviously still at the club, because there was pulsating music in the background when he answered, and I asked, “Is he still there?”

  “Aye.” Cameron spoke with a faint Irish brogue, but it was particularly noticeable on that single syllable. “I should bring him down to the station for questioning, but if I do that, he’ll just lawyer up and you won’t get any answers.”

  “I fucking love you for texting me instead, Doyle.”

  “Don’t make me regret it, Dante.”

  “You won’t. I’m not going to shoot the guy. I’m just going to ask him politely if he knows where to find his uncle Mick or my cousin Jerry.”

  “Politely,” he echoed. “I’m finding myself a bit dubious.”

  “Politely might be a relative term.”

  “Is Messina’s nephew going to recognize you and bolt when you show up here?”

  “Doubtful. As far as we know, Steven isn’t involved in the family business. In fact, according to the sketchy intel my people managed to gather on him, he may attend college out of state. If that’s true, I’ll bet he’s home for the holidays, which in turn means he still has relatives in the area.”

  “In that case, they’re brilliant at remaining hidden.”

  I asked, “Is he by himself?”

  “He is.”

  “You sure it’s him? We only have one photo of Steven Messina in the file we’re keeping on his family, and it isn’t all that sharp.”

  “I’m sure,” Doyle told me. “I always remember a pretty face.”

  “Pretty?”

  “What? It’s just a simple observation.” I grinned at that, and Doyle added, “I know for a fact you’re smirking right now.”

  I’d reached the laundry room by that point and pulled a pair of Levis out of the dryer as I said, “Text me the address, and obviously if he starts to leave, do something about it. I’m on my way.”

  After we disconnected, I swapped my sleep pants for the jeans and tucked in my T-shirt. Then I stopped off in the kitchen and left a note for Charlie, just in case he woke up and came downstairs to look for me. It said: Cam texted me with a possible lead, so I went to meet him. I should be back before breakfast. Love you.

  When I reached the alcove at the back of the house, I stuck my feet into a pair of boots, then rapidly went through the process of arming myself yet again. I went with three weapons that time, strapping a hunting knife to my leg for good measure in addition to the usual pair of guns. I doubted Mick Messina’s nephew posed a threat from what little I knew about him, but I wasn’t about to take any chances.

  *****

  It was pretty fucking easy to spot Steven Messina when I arrived at the gay nightclub, since he was in Cameron Doyle’s arms. The two were slow-dancing, and when Cam met my gaze over the top of Messina’s head, I shot my friend a look and mouthed, “What the fuck?”

  He replied with a silent, exaggerated, “He was about to leave.” When Messina glanced up at him, Cameron flashed him a big smile, and the guy returned his head to Doyle’s shoulder.

  I frowned at my friend and leaned against the bar, then scanned the room. It was a rundown, sleazy pick-up joint, the kind of place where every surface would light up like fireworks on the Fourth of July if you hit it with a black light. People had paired off and were doing all sorts of nasty things in every dark corner. The place made me wish for a full-body condom.

  I noted the exits and wondered how exactly I was going to get Mick’s nephew out of the bar so I could question him. But when Steven began kissing the side of Cameron’s neck, I realized getting him out of there might be really fucking easy. I texted Doyle: Invite your new BFF to that hotel on the corner. I’ll meet you there. Later on, you’re going to tell me what the hell you were doing in this petri dish. I’m pretty sure I’d get pregnant if I sat on any of these barstools. I grinned a little and hit send. Doyle pulled his phone from his pocket and read my message behind Messina’s back, then rolled his eyes. But he gave me a thumbs-up, so I headed for the door.

  I’d almost made it, too, when a drunk guy in a cheap suit cut me off and exclaimed, “You’re not leaving already, are you? You just got here!” I tried to step around him, but he cut me off again and said, “Lemme buy you a drink. Whiskey, right? You look like a whiskey man.” He held up his own cocktail, clearly not his first of the night, and leered at me.

  I murmured, “No thanks,” and made another attempt to step around him.

  But he got in front of me again and slurred, “Has anyone ever told you that you look like that Italian actor from Magic Mike? Joe somebody?”

  “All the damn time.” I tried to fake left, then dodged right to get around him, like I was going for a lay-up in the fucking NBA, but the guy was quick and cut me off yet again.

 

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