Page 16 of A Shot at Love
His men knew—knew—they weren’t supposed to leave the hotel for any reason. Ky had ordered them repeatedly to stay put. All they needed to do was keep him safe for one more week until the attorney general could file charges against Ritandi.
One week. And now, because his agents had disobeyed a direct order, they and the bookkeeper were dead.
Why had they left the hotel?
Today’s events had all but destroyed three years of work, gathering information that would lead to the arrest of mob boss Antonio Ritandi for money laundering, tax fraud, and extortion.
Three years of endless wiretaps, surveillance, and subpoenas that had yielded nothing substantial until Mario Calafano made one small slip up with a bank deposit transaction, and Ky and his partner had roped him in.
A sudden thought danced around his head but was quickly killed when the sound of Gemma’s laughter pulled him like a magnet back into the kitchen.
The smile he’d seen for the first time just minutes before was now broad, free, and lit with mischief. The throaty laugh, lusty and filled with enough just-woken rasp to make his pulse bounce filled the small kitchen at something his partner was telling her.
“That can’t be true,” she said, grinning at Jon. She’d nestled her head against the palm of her hand, her elbow propped on the table.
They’d finished their dinners while his had sat, uneaten.
Jon, ever the fervent storyteller, swiped his index finger across his chest. “Swear to God, it is.”
At that moment, Gemma’s smiling gaze found his across the room.
It should be illegal to have eyes that blue. Ky had to willfully hold himself back from saying it out loud.
“What story are you spinning, partner?” Ky came into the room after he was able to check his thoughts.
With a sly wink to Gemma first, Jon said, “No spin, just facts, Ky. I was telling Miss Laine—”
“Gemma,” she corrected.
“Gemma.” Jon nodded. “About the first time I met your family.”
With an inward groan, Ky shook his head and brought his plate to the microwave. “I’d rather forget that,” he said, timing the appliance to reheat his food.
“It sounds like you would,” Gemma said, a wry little line dancing across her lips.
As much as Ky loved his large, boisterous, and utterly lovable family, they could be trying on his soul, especially his six older brothers, who never missed a chance to embarrass their baby brother.
“I’ve got older sisters,” Gemma said, lifting her water bottle. “I know what it’s like.”
“I have to think the torture a brother employs is different from a sister’s,” Ky said over his shoulder.
She considered it while she took a mouthful of her water and he brought his reheated dish back to the table.
“Maybe,” she said. “Brothers will probably be more physically exacting while sisters are more like emotional hit men, getting inside your head, niggling, and torturing you to death.”
In the next breath, she sat her water bottle down on the table with a plop, her face going gray.
“Are you okay?” Ky asked. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but knew it wouldn’t be wise.
“Sorry.” The vigorous shake she gave her head tossed her hair to and fro. “That was a poor choice of words after what happened today.”
The trio was silent for a few moments.
“It’s getting late,” Gemma said. Ky was quick to notice the smile she’d had moments before was now just a memory.
“Don’t worry about the dishes,” Jon told her when she started to bring hers to the sink. “Ky and I have a system. Cleanup’s my job.”
She nodded and grabbed her laptop.
“Everything you’ll need should be in the closet in your room,” Ky said. “Towels, fresh linens. Just let me know if there’s anything you might want that your sister didn’t pack.”
“It’s fine,” she told him. “I’ve got all I really need.”
Before quitting to her room she turned to them. “I—well.”
Both men allowed her a moment to collect her thoughts.
“I just wanted to thank you. Both. I know being stuck here with me is the last thing you want to be doing about now, and believe me, if I could undo what happened today, I would.”
