Heart Burn: Deep Six East Book 1 Page 2

  Grabbing his half-full cup of coffee, blood pumping in all cylinders from his early morning workout in the gym attached to the bunkhouse, Dante strode out of the office with a smile on his face.

  It had been a helluva long time since that smile came involuntarily and it felt good.

  When he passed the den, where a sectional sofa and enormous widescreen TV with a PlayStation sat waiting for the team to wage war during downtime, it widened. Griff and Lou Ellen’s son, Jayden, was the man to beat these days, because the rest of the team hadn’t arrived yet. He looked forward to unseating the reigning champ very soon. But first, he had work to do, before he deserved that downtime.

  He strode into the conference room and his nostrils flared when the smell of new leather from the twelve chairs surrounding the Cherry Wood conference table engulfed his senses.

  “Good morning,” he said, taking a seat beside Griff.

  “Morning,” Griff mumbled, but he didn’t look up from the manila folder in front of him.

  Lou Ellen strolled in next, looking a little flushed. The fact her lipstick was smeared at the corner of her mouth, and Griff’s mouth looked slightly ravaged rose’ this morning, told him why. For not-so-young people, she and Griff seemed to have a very intimate relationship.

  Good for them. His parents had that kind of connection too, which is why he’d bought into the fantasy as a kid and wanted that for himself. His ex taught him that ravaged rosé wasn’t his shade, though, and neither were permanent attachments. But he could flirt with the best of them, and decided to needle Griff for fun.

  “Morning, beautiful,” Dante greeted with a smile and Griff glared at him.

  “Don’t be making time with my wife, lover boy. Find your own,” he growled, and Lou Ellen giggled as she took the seat beside her husband.

  Dante bit back a laugh, because that girlish sound coming out of their sassy, kickass office manager’s mouth just didn’t jive.

  “How can I help myself? Lou Ellen is the whole package and I know I’ll never find a woman like her for myself. You’re a lucky man.”

  “Damn right, I’m lucky, but you won’t be if you ever decide to go there,” Griff replied, glancing at Lou with a look that carried the same message as her giggle.

  “Let’s get down to business before I cancel this meeting and show you just how lucky you are, Mr. Robinson,” Lou Ellen purred as she melted into the chair across from Dante.

  Dante groaned as an image appeared in his mind of these two tangled up together in Griff’s office.

  “Oh, please, let’s do get down to business,” Dante begged as he scrubbed a hand over his face to wipe away that image.

  “I’m excited to say, we have our first assignment,” Griff informed as he closed the folder and slid it over to him.

  “What is it?” Dante asked with excitement as he took the dossier.

  “It’s the perfect assignment for you, since you speak some Italian and know the culture,” Griff replied.

  Spoke some Italian? He knew all the curse words and several endearments that got him laid on occasion, but he was hardly fluent. As for the culture, he knew the American Italian culture, which was completely different from real Italian culture. His Nonna, who migrated with her family to the states from a small village outside of Milan, said so.

  “Ah, just because I’m Italian, doesn’t mean I speak the language and understand the culture. I’m American, not Italian,” Dante said, his body tensing.

  “You’ll be fine. Your protectee speaks English fluently, as do a lot of people in Italy” Lou Ellen said.

  “Protectee?” Dante repeated, his eyebrows furrowing as he turned his eyes back to Griff.

  “Our client,” Griff clarified, then tented his hands in front of him. “You are going to provide close personal protection for an Italian Ambassador to the US who has received threats.”

  “Who is threatening him?” Dante asked.

  “Threatening her,” Griff corrected with a smile, and Dante’s stomach clenched tighter. “We don’t know who’s threatening her, but there are plenty of potential suspects. I have Mac looking into that for us and I’ll let you know if he comes up with anything.”

  “So this contract is with the Italian Embassy?” Dante asked, opening the folder.

  Prada D’Angelo. The name jumped out at him and swirled through his brain to buzz on his tongue as he wondered how it would feel when he spoke it. He also wondered if the woman was as exotic as her name. Why did that name sound so familiar to him? He looked for a photo in the file but found none, so he perused the information on the intake document, which was on top of the other papers inside the dossier. Thirty-three, from Milan, in the US for a year, lived in a residence on Embassy Row in DC.

  “No—our contract is with her father, Arturo D’Angelo, a high-ranking Italian politician. According to him, she didn’t want him to hire us, but he put his foot down when her assistant notified him she received a threat last week,” Griff replied.

  “Any idea why someone would want to threaten her?” Dante asked.

  “Other than her mouth?” Griff snorted and his eyes darted to Lou Ellen, who frowned. “I hear from her father it rarely gets a rest.”

  “There was a sexual harassment scandal of some kind,” Lou Ellen replied, shooting a hot glance at Griff. “She made public allegations against a very powerful man, which incited other women to step forward with similar claims. They pressed charges but he was exonerated. Now, she has pressed charges of her own. Prada has also been vocal on women’s rights in Italy, which has earned her a few enemies.”

  “Why would speaking out for women’s rights earn her enemies?” Dante asked. American women, and men for that matter, spoke loudly for equality and were applauded for it.

  “Things are still evolving there as far as women’s rights,” Griff replied with a quick glance at his wife.

  “What kind of threats are we talking about?” Dante asked. “Death threats?”

  “No, just one letter with veiled threats, so far, but her father received a stronger warning regarding her safety in Italy. He says there are several hard-liners who are not happy with the waves she’s causing with her political posturing and pressure. She’s called several politicians out publicly and also mentioned to the press that she might run for office herself one day, if they won’t help her get things changed. That’s caused a bigger stir.” Griff replied.

  “If she’s fighting for Italian women’s rights, what is she doing in the U.S?” Dante asked with more than a small amount of dread for his new assignment building inside of him.

  Griff shrugged. “He was close-mouthed on certain topics regarding her and the situation, but I think he had her assigned here after the scandal to protect her and to take the political heat off himself. That’s the way it sounded, anyway.”

  There was nothing politically correct about Dante either. So he could easily see himself getting crossways with a woman like Prada D’Angelo.

  “Just a warning. I, ah, tend to piss Italian women off. Just ask the ones related to me,” he said with a sigh as he closed the folder. His sister, his mother and his Nonna before she died, told him so. So did the woman he’d almost married, the one who put him off of Italian women for good. The one who’d dug her claws so deep into his heart, they were still there even though she was long gone. “Are you sure I’m the right man for this job?”

  “At this point, you’re the only man for the job,” Griff said firmly. “The rest of the team isn’t in place yet. Levi Fontaine and Max Carter are still in class. Brad Sullivan won’t be here for a week or so. I have Dex and his trainee headed to DC to set up the surveillance electronics. As soon as Brad arrives, I’ll have him connect with you, so you have a driver. This job is paying too well for us to turn it down. It’s our first assignment, so you better not piss her off or let her get killed, or Logan will kill you.”

  Right then, Dante wanted to load the gun for him. A bullet would be preferable to the slow death he was about to suffer from blood loss while biting his tongue.

  But this was Deep Six East’s first job, and they were relying on him to make them look good. All of their futures depended on him protecting this woman from the enemies she’d made with her mouth.

  That is exactly what he was going to do, or die trying.

  Chapter 2

  Bright and early Monday morning, Dante parked his Charger in the underground garage half a mile from the Ambasciata d'Italia. He would’ve been able to park closer, but Prada D’Angelo hung up on him before he could ask her for a parking pass last night. He couldn’t even get a word in as she succinctly told him she didn’t want his protection or interference in her life.

  Well, I’m going to protect you whether you like it or not, Ms. Italian Ambassador of Women’s Affairs—and you are going to let me.

  With determination, he reached over to open the glove box, pulled out his shoulder holster and pistol, then strapped it on. Thank goodness Lou Ellen thought to have Arturo D’Angelo obtain a special carry permit through Consulate security, or he’d be going into this job unarmed. Lou was still working on getting a permit through Capitol Police and the Secret Service, so he could carry on American soil outside of the embassy. Until then, he’d be walking dirty, because he wasn’t going anywhere without his pistol.

  Grabbing his suit jacket from the back of the passenger seat, he slid it on, then reached for the keys. Out of habit, he stopped for a moment to survey the garage for tangos. With a huffed breath, he reminded himself he wasn’t with the feds anymore, nor was he in the military. He didn’t need to watch over his shoulder, except when he was in Elizabeth, New Jersey, or Manhattan, which was home to the now-defunct, and mostly jailed, Lazarro crime family.

  He didn’t have confirmation
he was in danger there, but he was sure after his sudden disappearance when he was fired by the FBI, the Lazzaros had probably put two-and-two together and pegged him as a plant. That would make him number one on their hit list if he was ever seen and recognized.

  Dante opened the car door and the smell of money, power and greed rushed inside the car with the still frigid March air to choke him. The pompous cesspool that was Washington D.C. evidently hadn’t changed much since his last visit the day he was fired. It would probably never change, which is why he vowed give this place wide berth after he was released. Yet here he was, he thought, as he got out of the car.

  He should’ve just waited for a position to open up at the Texas office, but Logan said they needed him here. You can do this, man, you have to do this. I need you at the new office.

  Reaching into the back seat, he grabbed his Burberry overcoat and slid into it, then fastened the buttons. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to stay long, if Interpol and the Italian Police could quickly identify and arrest whoever was threatening her.

  The letter she’d received last week was at the forensics lab being tested for prints and DNA, and they were tracing back the delivery of the box to her doorman at her apartment building on Thursday.

  A dead bird and black roses? Really? How unoriginal. He’d learned that tactic in Mob 101. Dante took a step away from the car, but stopped. Was this mob-related?

  From working with the FBI Mafia Interdiction Unit, he knew the Italian Mafioso was sometimes in bed with mob families in the United States. They traded favors, so it wasn’t that farfetched to go there in his mind. Had she pissed off a Don with her mouth?

  “Dio, no…” he groaned as a chill slithered down his spine. Flipping up his coat collar around his neck, Dante stuffed his hands in his pockets and forced his feet to move.

  Stop inventing scenarios, Girabaldi, he thought, as he exited the garage and started the fifteen-minute walk to the embassy. Let the details unfold on their own, so you’re not jaded going into this. No matter what kind of trouble the boccalone had gotten herself into, he would do his job and protect her.

  There were ways of stopping her big mouth from running. Some were fun, others silver and sticky. Ms. D’Angelo only thought she was stubborn, but she hadn’t met stubborn yet. It was about to arrive on her doorstep in a designer suit, with duct tape in hand, if necessary.

  By the time he stepped up on the curb at the entrance to the park, he was feeling calmer as his heart pounded steadily in his ears. He took one step, but stumbled when a jogger whizzed by and bumped his shoulder. He looked up and saw why. She wasn’t looking where she was going, instead she was staring at the FitBit on her wrist.

  He glared at the neon green X in the middle of her back, expecting her to at least look back and apologize—or acknowledge him. But she just kept jogging, her long, thick, jet-black ponytail swishing rhythmically from shoulder to shoulder.

  His gaze slid down her spine to watch the flex and release of the tight, spandex-encased muscles in her ass. He couldn’t drag his eyes away as hard as he tried, which wasn’t very hard. Puffs of her frozen breath followed her, making her look like the hottest damned train he’d ever seen in his life and, at that moment, Dante wanted nothing more than to hop on board. It had been too damned long since he’d gotten laid.

  Without conscious thought, his feet moved to follow her, then he jogged to keep up like a charmed snake. The urgent desire to see if her face was as beautiful as her body gripped him. She stutter-stepped then moved to the side of the walkway to jog on the stiffly frozen grass, but Dante kept to the pavement.

  At the end of the path, she slowed, then made a quick right. Dante put on the brakes to make the turn too, but he skated on the heels of his leather-soled shoes to the end of the sidewalk and couldn’t find traction.

  Freaking ice! No wonder she’d moved off the sidewalk, he thought, as he went airborne.

  His body slammed into the icy pavement, his breath left him and he saw stars. Stunned, he lay there as a gong-like sound echoed through his skull and he could swear he saw cartoon birds dancing before his eyes. He sat up, rubbed the back of his skull and he watched her jog across the street.

  She stopped on the tree-lined median that bisected the street to look back at him. With a smug smile, she gave him a finger wave, then put her fingers beneath her chin to flick them at him. Dante didn’t need interpretation for that hand gesture.

  Every Italian knew exactly what she was saying to him without a word. She’d just told him to fuck off, vaffanculo, without saying a word—after she’d assaulted him.

  Che palle—the woman had balls for sure.

  Anger surged through him as he scrambled to his feet. With a huffed breath, he took one definitive step off the curb but stopped when he heard a powerful engine roar. He looked to find the source of the sound just as a sleek, black car blew through the red light at the intersection.

  His eyes flew back to the woman and his heart stopped as she stepped off the curb. She looked to her right and her eyes widened, but instead of moving back onto the median, she stood frozen there. Dante leapt across the street, narrowly avoiding being hit by a car himself, and leapt onto the green.

  Only a foot separated her from the grill of the car when the driver slammed on the brakes and Dante wrapped his arms tightly around her and yanked her back onto the median. They landed in a heap at the foot of a tree with her on top of him. The black-haired wildcat in his arms hissed Italian curse words as she pulled out of his grasp, then landed a sharp elbow to his gut when she scrambled to her feet.

  “You almost got me killed, coglione!” she shouted, glaring down at him with her hands on her hips.

  “Yeah, I am an idiot—for trying to save you!” Dante wheezed as he stood and tried keep his breakfast burrito down.

  “If that was you trying to save me, then you shouldn’t try that again.” She snorted and her full upper lip curled at the corner. “Stick to what you’re good at—testa di cazzo, ogling women.”

  With an eye roll and a lifted chin, she turned, looked both ways, then stepped off the curb to stomp toward the front entrance of the embassy. She didn’t go up the steps, though, she turned right and stalked toward the far side of the building.

  Yeah, strafiga or not, the prickly woman was on her own now. If she got run over by a bus behind the building, it wouldn’t be his problem. Hell, as mad as he was, smoking hot or not, he might throw her under the bus himself.

  Besides, he had a job to do, which only included protecting one woman, a woman who didn’t want his protection or help any more than the one he’d just encountered.

  Scalp tingling from adrenaline and anger, and throbbing from his run-in with the sidewalk, Dante knew he couldn’t go into that office in his present frame of mind. If he did, he’d be walking back out in ten minutes. Unemployed.

  Turning, he strode back across the street to the park to walk off his anger and think. Get his mind right. Prepare for his second battle of the day—a much more important one.

  An hour and a cup of coffee later, he felt much warmer and calmer as he strolled down the long hallway, reading the office numbers above each door. He didn’t need to know which one was Prada D’Angelo’s, though. He heard her angry, Italian-accented voice echoing down the hallway. He stopped outside the last door to the left, which was opened a crack, to listen.

  “What are you doing in my office?” Prada D’Angelo, demanded. “Who gave you permission to be in here?”

  “Your assistant,” Dex replied and Dante heard his heavy sigh. “We’re the cyber-security team for Deep Six and are here to secure your office to help your bodyguard protect you.”

  “Are you the bodyguards my father hired? If so, you don’t look very capable. You don’t even have a weapon, and she probably couldn’t save herself, much less me!”

  Oh, his new protectee was in fine form this morning, he thought. Loaded for bear with that mouth. It took everything Dante had not to turn right back around and run out of this building and not for coffee. That duct tape might be a good first investment.