Page 67 of Power
Simone chuckled. “Withotherwomen.”
“I would screw him so often, he wouldn’t even think of doing it with anyone else.”
“I’ll keep your sage advice in mind.” Simone held up a mug. “Coffee before your mission?”
“Full-throttle.”
Simone made Fred a bold java, a decaf for herself.
Fred slid Simone’s phone toward her. “Reply to him.”
“He can wait.”
“Ugh, you’re playing hard to get. You should be all over that.”
Simone shook her head. “Cake now, texting later.”
They selected red velvet and white chocolate, split the mini-cakes in two, and returned to the table with their plates and mugs. The conversation resumed, but Simone couldn’t help but worry about Fred. She hoped this was a different bomb maker and notTheBomb Maker. The last time anyone had tried to arrest him, the mission had gone horribly wrong.
A shiver skirted through her.
As they dug into their delicious desserts, Simone said, “Why don’t you swing by tomorrow night? We can finish off the leftovers and share two more slices of cake?”
Fred offered an encouraging smile. “No worries about the mission. I got this.”
Am I that transparent?
“I invited you over because you’re my friend and I’m sure as hell not eating all those desserts by myself,” Simone said.
“Hey, I’m not gonna say no to having dinner with you, but I’m gonna be fine. Really. It’ll be like every ALPHA mission I’ve ever been on. You’ll see.”
They finished eating. Fred offered to clean up, but Simone ushered her out. After a hug goodbye, she waited on the porch as Fred jumped in her Jeep and drove away.
“Please, Lord, keep her safe,” Simone whispered as she retreated inside.
After cleaning up from dinner, she opened her laptop. Carrera had given her twenty-eight new cases. Before diving in, she thought about going out with Luciano.
Do it. But don’t read anything into it.
With phone in hand, she replied.
Sat works. Club sounds fun. I’ll wear one of my Santini Originals
Seconds later came his reply.
I look forward to seeing you, Simone
So do I.
Then, she thought about Fred’s advice—“You gotta lock this one down”—and chuckled.
“I’m not locking anyone down, most of all Luciano Santini… but he might be just what I need to kickstart my life.”
LUCIANO
Luciano parkedin Carrera’s driveway, exited his Range Rover. It was almost two o’clock Wednesday morning and the upscale Alexandria neighborhood was dead quiet. As he made his way toward his cousin’s front door, Sin parked beside him.
He emerged from his black SUV, walked over. Together, they entered the dark house, a light in the kitchen illuminating their way. Luciano spied his cousin in his office, wrangling with temporary blinds.
