Read Online Fearless: Mob Boss Book Two (Volume 2) by Michelle St. James - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michelle St. James
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of him.
“Should we catch a cab?” she asked when they stepped out into the sticky, heavy heat of Miami.
He took her elbow. “No cab.”
“But—”
“I’ve got it under control.” He guided her to short term parking and scanned the lot until he found what he was looking for. Then he led her toward the sleek, red machine crouched in the shadows.
She narrowed her eyes. “What is this?”
“This is a car,” Nico said. He reached under the wheel well and withdrew a set of keys. A high pitched beep echoed through the garage, and the doors opened out and up, flanking the car like wings. “An F150 LaFerrari , to be exact. Now get in.”
12
The car was more animal than machine, its undulating curves sensual even rendered in steel and fiberglass. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Nico was all man—not exactly the type to drive a low-key sedan—and this car wasn’t about subtlety.
“Shouldn’t we be laying low?” she asked.
“We are laying low,” he said. “I had someone change the plates.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Someone? I thought the point of meeting Luca here was to stay under the radar.”
“Trust me. I’ve covered our bases. And when in Rome…” He took her elbow and guided her to the car.
“We’re not in Rome,” she said drily.
“No, we’re in Miami. Let’s go.”
She slid into the seat with a sigh, sinking into the plush leather interior. He reached across her and buckled her seatbelt, just like he had the night they’d fled New York for Maine. His touch was no less electric now, and she breathed in the scent of him as his fingers brushed her skin, imagining the way he laid his big hands across her naked belly just before he spread her legs to enter her.
He clicked the buckle into place and retreated from the car. A moment later her door slid shut with a quiet hum. He got behind the wheel, and the powerful engine came to life somewhere between a roar and purr.
Like Nico.
He put his hands on the wheel slowly, like he was savoring the feel of it under his hands. He shifted into gear, and then they were flying through the parking garage, Nico taking the turns sharp and smooth until they exited into the Florida sunshine.
They got on the highway and headed south. It was like being in a different world, the bright colors and fast cars standing in sharp contrast to the wild Maine coast, the historical solemnity of Boston. Nico rolled down the windows and looked over at her with a grin. then accelerated through traffic. The wind whipped back her hair, and she was surprised to hear laughter bubble up from her throat.
She wasn’t a car person, couldn’t have cared less what she drove at home, but the speed and agility of the machine connected with something deeply erotic inside her. She looked over at Nico—his muscled thighs moving as he shifted gears, dark hair ruffled by the wind, eyes hidden behind sunglasses—and grew wet with desire for him. She felt her old life falling away with a startling lack of fear.
A half hour later, Nico pulled into the Coral Gables address Angel had given him. The house was one of many owned by her father—now owned by her and David —and occupied only sporadically. It wasn’t one of her favorites—she’d always thought it was a little garish—but now she appreciated the gated entry, the long driveway that led to a brick courtyard at the front of the house. The house wasn’t a fortress—as far as she knew it had been built for privacy, not impenetrability—but at least they would have a warning before someone made it through the gate and up the driveway. She didn’t expect anyone to know she and Nico were hiding out here, but they couldn’t afford to take anything for granted.
Nico pulled the car to a stop in the courtyard. He leaned forward, his arms on the wheel, and gazed up at the Spanish-style mansion. It didn’t look huge from the front, but Angel knew it was an illusion. The house was enormous, with eight bedrooms, a wine
“Should we catch a cab?” she asked when they stepped out into the sticky, heavy heat of Miami.
He took her elbow. “No cab.”
“But—”
“I’ve got it under control.” He guided her to short term parking and scanned the lot until he found what he was looking for. Then he led her toward the sleek, red machine crouched in the shadows.
She narrowed her eyes. “What is this?”
“This is a car,” Nico said. He reached under the wheel well and withdrew a set of keys. A high pitched beep echoed through the garage, and the doors opened out and up, flanking the car like wings. “An F150 LaFerrari , to be exact. Now get in.”
12
The car was more animal than machine, its undulating curves sensual even rendered in steel and fiberglass. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Nico was all man—not exactly the type to drive a low-key sedan—and this car wasn’t about subtlety.
“Shouldn’t we be laying low?” she asked.
“We are laying low,” he said. “I had someone change the plates.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Someone? I thought the point of meeting Luca here was to stay under the radar.”
“Trust me. I’ve covered our bases. And when in Rome…” He took her elbow and guided her to the car.
“We’re not in Rome,” she said drily.
“No, we’re in Miami. Let’s go.”
She slid into the seat with a sigh, sinking into the plush leather interior. He reached across her and buckled her seatbelt, just like he had the night they’d fled New York for Maine. His touch was no less electric now, and she breathed in the scent of him as his fingers brushed her skin, imagining the way he laid his big hands across her naked belly just before he spread her legs to enter her.
He clicked the buckle into place and retreated from the car. A moment later her door slid shut with a quiet hum. He got behind the wheel, and the powerful engine came to life somewhere between a roar and purr.
Like Nico.
He put his hands on the wheel slowly, like he was savoring the feel of it under his hands. He shifted into gear, and then they were flying through the parking garage, Nico taking the turns sharp and smooth until they exited into the Florida sunshine.
They got on the highway and headed south. It was like being in a different world, the bright colors and fast cars standing in sharp contrast to the wild Maine coast, the historical solemnity of Boston. Nico rolled down the windows and looked over at her with a grin. then accelerated through traffic. The wind whipped back her hair, and she was surprised to hear laughter bubble up from her throat.
She wasn’t a car person, couldn’t have cared less what she drove at home, but the speed and agility of the machine connected with something deeply erotic inside her. She looked over at Nico—his muscled thighs moving as he shifted gears, dark hair ruffled by the wind, eyes hidden behind sunglasses—and grew wet with desire for him. She felt her old life falling away with a startling lack of fear.
A half hour later, Nico pulled into the Coral Gables address Angel had given him. The house was one of many owned by her father—now owned by her and David —and occupied only sporadically. It wasn’t one of her favorites—she’d always thought it was a little garish—but now she appreciated the gated entry, the long driveway that led to a brick courtyard at the front of the house. The house wasn’t a fortress—as far as she knew it had been built for privacy, not impenetrability—but at least they would have a warning before someone made it through the gate and up the driveway. She didn’t expect anyone to know she and Nico were hiding out here, but they couldn’t afford to take anything for granted.
Nico pulled the car to a stop in the courtyard. He leaned forward, his arms on the wheel, and gazed up at the Spanish-style mansion. It didn’t look huge from the front, but Angel knew it was an illusion. The house was enormous, with eight bedrooms, a wine
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