The man glanced casually at the dejected mailbox and stepped over the curb, moving onto the grass and across the lawn, heading to the front door. Julia’s front door. Brad cursed, listening to the phone ring, his eyes glued to the man.

MY PHONE WAS ringing, the sound muted by my clutch, and I stood in the dark room, feeling around blindly, trying to remember where I had put the damn thing. I felt for the light switch, following the wall, when my foot bumped into my purse. I crouched, opening the metal clasp and pulling out my cell. Ha. Big surprise. Brad had cracked first. I smiled, answering the phone with a sexy drawl.

“Where are you in the house?” Brad’s voice was quick and quiet.

“My bedroom,” I whispered, matching his tone and trying to inject the proper level of husky sex into it.

“Do not turn on any lights. Do you have a gun?” His voice was too calm to ask that question, but so calm that I knew something was wrong.

“No. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know yet. Stay inside and hide. I’m going to try and take care of it from this end. Turn off the ringer and keep your phone on you.” There was a click, and he was gone. I crouched, fumbling with my phone until I had the ringer switched off. I listened, hearing nothing but the wheeze of our air conditioner. I was painfully aware of my nakedness, and had a vision of me running outside stark naked with half of the neighborhood watching. I groped around the floor until I found my discarded dress, pulled it on and crawled on my knees to my closet.

THE STREETLIGHT HAD illuminated for a quick moment the man’s features, confirming Brad’s suspicion. He knew who the man was. What he was doing outside Julia’s house was the fucking question of the century.

The man reached the dark stoop, trying the loose handle of the front door, then stepped quickly off the porch and moved around to the side of the house. Brad increased his pace, and entered the dark corridor of the side yard right when the man exited it, stepping into the light of the backyard. The man stopped short, his head tilted a brief moment, and then he turned, slowly, facing the darkness he had just left.

Brad cursed his own size. Cursed his inability to move anywhere without sounding like a herd of elephants trampling through a forest. He stopped, the element of dark on his side, and spoke, a brief staccato of words in Italian.

“Bullshit.” The man spat out the curse, his free hand sliding behind him, and pulled out a gun.

Brad stepped forward, close enough that his bulk was seen, his features partially revealed in the partial shadows.

“Wow. It really is you. Brad...De Luca, is it?” The last name was said mockingly, the man’s tone playful.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Brad’s anger was tightly controlled but seeped through in every word, and he stepped forward, advancing on the man.

“I suggest you stay where you are.” The man, his features, the sharp angles in his face, his coarse salt-and-pepper hair, all so familiar. He stiffened, raising the gun toward Brad, who stilled, scoffing and spreading his arms in incredulity.

“What. You’re going to kill me? That’s not going to work, Leo. You know who I am.”

“Look, Brad—I’m here under orders, and I’d like to do them and then get the fuck out of here. I don’t know how you stumbled upon this, but let me do my job.”

Brad’s eyes glinted and he flexed his hands, trying to stay under control. “Who’s your job?”

“Some delicious little bitch from your office.” He started to lower the gun, turning to the house, then paused. “Wait. Is that why you’re here? Sampling the fucking help?”

Brad stepped forward, ignoring the gun, and stopped a foot from the man. “I’d watch how you speak to me.” He locked eyes with the man, who stepped backward.

“Look, like I said, I’m just here under orders.”

“Why her?”

“She overheard some conversation of Broward’s. Been calling the cops, wanting them to investigate the family’s involvement.” He smirked, disdain all over his face. A face Brad wanted to pound into the fucking ground.

Brad turned his back to the man, his mind racing, and put his hand on his mouth, rubbing the rough skin. Something Julia overheard. Julia and the cops. Julia on the family’s radar. This was bad, very bad. He looked back. “Well, fuck the orders. They’ve changed. Call whichever piece of shit sent you over here and let him know.”

The man hesitated, and Brad lifted his chin, stepping forward a few more steps until they were eye-to-eye. “Understood?”

The man looked away, his mouth working, hatred in his eyes. “Yeah. But you understand if I come back.”

“Hey, business is business.” Brad put his hands in his pockets and stretched his neck, keeping his eyes on the man. The man hesitated, then turned, sliding his gun back into place and walking past Brad, back into the darkness, his duffel bag rocking gently at his side. “Oh, and, Leo?”

The man paused, his back stiffening. “Yeah?”

“Don’t ever fucking talk to me like that again.”

The man hesitated, then continued, his feet making no sound on the dead grass. And then he was gone. Brad waited in the light of the backyard, till the Audi drove past him and made the turn onto the main road. Then he walked back to the limo, pulling out his wallet and withdrawing a few bills. The backseat door was still open, and the limo idled quietly in the parking lot. He closed the door and went up to the driver’s side. The window rolled down and revealed the driver’s lined face.

Brad held out the bills. “If I’m not back out in fifteen minutes, then head home.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. De Luca. Understood.”

Brad turned, stepped away from the limo and pulled out his cell.

I HUDDLED IN the corner of my closet, an area that I was sure roaches and rodents frequented. My heavy coats hung above me and created a comforting, if not stifling shield around me. I had heard something outside, voices, muffled by the concrete wall of the home. Now all was still, and I tried to control my breathing, which sounded loud and ragged in the tiny, hot space.

My cell, which was clutched in my sweaty hand, vibrated. I answered it quickly, holding my hand over my mouth to quiet my words.

“Yes?”

“Everything is fine. Can you unlock the front door?”

“Are you sure? Are you being held at gunpoint?”

He sighed. “I’m positive. Open the fucking door. Please.” Then there was a beep, and he was gone. Damn man. I shoved wool garments aside and tried to crawl out, but my drunken mind tangled my feet and I fell in an uncoordinated heap on my floor. I groaned, pushing myself to my feet and hobbling—damn, I hurt my ankle—to the hall, moving through the darkness till I reached the front door and unlocked the dead bolt. Brad stood, a dark silhouette in the doorway, no one else nearby. I flung myself into his arms and he gripped me tightly, sliding me backward until he could shut the door and turn the lock himself.

“What happened?” I asked as soon as the latch was turned. “Were we being robbed?”

He reached over, turning on the lamp that sat by our front door, the warm light illuminating his face, which looked stressed. “Is that a common occurrence?”

“It’s happen twice, but both times during the day when no one was home. Is that what it was?”

“No. I need to think a moment. Where are your roommates?”

“I don’t know. Asleep.”

“I want to take you home. To my home. I’ll sleep here another night, or tomorrow night, or whenever you want me to—but I need to be home tonight, and I need you there with me. I’ll explain more later.”

I blinked, confused. Confused over whether there had been any threat of danger at all, confused over the change in his behavior, confused over why he kept running his damn hands through his hair and looking so...worried. I walked over to him, running my hands over his chest and kissing his cheek softly. “Okay. Let me pack a bag.”