Page 52 of Above ’N’ Beyond

Bella’s brows drew together. “You know what she is. You work for her. We all do, whether we want to or not. Don’t you see?” Defeat flashed in her eyes. “I can’t ever get away from her. I’m trapped here in the place I love most in the whole world.”

Her pain was killing him, and there was nothing he could do. Not now, anyway. “You never know. Hang in there. Sometimes things change.”

Slowly, Bella shook her head, looking even more defeated. “They won’t. Things never change around here.”

What little remained of Jamie’s resolve slipped away faster than an avalanche. He leaned in and brushed his lips gently across hers, and he had his answer. Her lips were every bit as soft and sweet as he remembered.

She uttered a tiny gasp but didn’t pull away. What Jamie ought to do was stop the madness and back off, but he could no sooner have stopped kissing Bella than he could have stopped breathing.

Her lips parted more, and she melted into him. Their tongues stroked, and he slipped his other hand into her hair, reveling in the silky softness of the short strands. Every stroke of his tongue coated his senses with more of her sweetness, her kindness…her passion. Yeah, he tasted that, too, and wanted more. When she rested her hand on his shoulder, the light touch burned through his shirt, heating his skin.

He angled his head, deepening the kiss. At some point, he must have slid off the barstool because her soft breasts were now pressed against him, his arm around her back, holding her tightly enough to feel her heart hammering every bit as much as his was. Crazy—no, insane—thoughts pummeled his brain.

How amazingly good she felt in his arms.

How he could kiss her like this all night long.

And take her to bed.

But there was so much more entrenched in what he was feeling. He wanted to protect her from being hurt, and that was impossible. No matter how things played out, when this case was over and he left, she would get hurt. By Paola.

By him.

There was no way to protect her emotions, but he could keep her from getting hurt physically. As a sworn law enforcement officer, that was his duty, his obligation. His priority.

As much as it killed him, he broke off the kiss. Their chests heaved as they drew in breath after breath. The look in her eyes drilled him with desire he felt straight to his soul.

“Bella.” His voice sounded hoarse, scratchy, as if he’d just swallowed a box of nails. “Be careful of Paola. The best thing you can do is stay off her radar. Don’t push her right now about the Bistro.”

He picked up his phone and shoved it in the back pocket of his shorts. “Jax.” His dog scrambled to his feet. Without looking back, Jamie speed-walked through the restaurant and out the back door.

Once outside, he drew in a deep breath. He yanked Jax’s leash from his pocket, then leaned down to clip it on. As they headed through the small yard into the alley, he cursed himself seven different ways in Italian.

He’d crossed a line that should never have been crossed. Being with Bella—in any way, shape, or form—could never happen. That didn’t mean he could snap his fingers and stop caring for her or about her. That’s what worried him the most. He didn’t want her doing something that might get her killed in the crossfire. And there would be crossfire.

From everything he’d read and seen for himself, Paola Mancuso was a power-hungry woman with a deadly agenda and an unquenchable drive to succeed. She wouldn’t hesitate to crush anyone who got in her way.

Including Bella.

Chapter Seventeen

The sky was gray, the air thick with humidity as Jamie parked in the alley behind the Bistro to wait for Tony, Marco, and the others. It was barely five a.m. Not even Lou had arrived to start a batch of whatever was the special for the day.

Jax stretched his neck between the headrests, licked Jamie’s chin, then lay down on the bench seat. Within seconds, Jax closed his eyes and groaned. What Jamie wouldn’t give to be so blissfully at peace.

He flexed his fingers, then curled them around the steering wheel. Every one of his nerve endings was fueled up and lit. If everyone followed the script and played their roles as agreed, things should go off without a hitch. But what they were about to do was beyond dangerous, the outcome of which would either get him in good with the Mancusos…or get someone killed.

He tapped in Detective Steve Palos’s number, then hit the call button.

“Yo, buddy,” came Steve’s thick Long Island-accented greeting. “We’re all set here. Driving a Speedy Courier green truck with a gray trailer. Just make sure none of those yahoos are packing.”

“Already done.” As per the plan he’d gone over in excruciating detail with Tony and his boys, only Jamie would be carrying a firearm. No way would he trust Tony, Marco, or any of Tony’s goons with a loaded gun. It was an unspoken Mafia rule to only pack heat when absolutely necessary—a byproduct of the fact that most Mafia soldiers were already convicted felons, so getting caught by the police with a loaded firearm added significant time to any prison sentence.

“Ten-four. Give Jax our regards. Tell him not to chomp on my balls. When this is over, you owe me.”

“Copy that. Don’t be late.” Jamie chuckled as he ended the call. Steve and his partner, Artie Masamoto, were two of the biggest dog lovers on the force and had known Jax since the day Jamie had partnered with him. With that in mind, he’d have to make sure Jax didn’t run up and lick them to death.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, willing the adrenaline thrumming in his veins to stand down.