mafia romance book

08/08/15 Fearless , Mob Boss Series , Ruthless , Sneak Peek Saturday , Writing # , , , , , , , , ,

Sneak Peek Saturday – FEARLESS

Giving you guys a sneak peek of FEARLESS, the second book in the Mob Boss series, as part of Sneak Peek Saturday!

FEARLESS will be out in less than a month (wheeee!). I hope you all get a chance to read RUTHLESS, the first book in the series, before then.

In the meantime, here’s a Nico and Angel fix to tide you over.

😉

She stepped onto the porch and made her way toward the shadow. He came into view a little at a time, and she had to resist the urge to sigh when she finally saw his face. The chiseled line of his jaw, the sharp planes of his cheekbones under a shock of dark hair so lush she had a sudden memory of it, silky and thick, in her fingers. But all of these were nothing compared to his eyes. In an instant, they pierced the armor she’d built over the past six months, and she was again willing prey to Nico’s predator.

Except now she was under no delusion that she wanted to escape.

She almost forgot to breathe while she was held captive by his gaze. His body was mere inches from hers, and she caught his scent — raw masculinity, leather, and soap — on the ocean breeze.

He headed for the back of the house, then turned to look at her. “You coming?”

They entered through the glass doors off the living room. A fire burned in the hearth, and she had a memory of Nico, his naked body entwined with hers on the sofa while rain pelted the windows. She forced her eyes away from the fireplace, taking in the sweep of wood floor, the stone walls, the glass that made the ocean feel like it was part of the house. She’d forgotten how much she loved this place, how at home she’d felt here.

Nico reached for her bag, and a shock of desire winged through her body when his skin brushed her cold fingers. He set the bag on the ground and crossed the room to pull a blanket off the back of the sofa. She watched as he made his way toward her, his eyes locked on hers while he leaned in to wrap the blanket around her shoulders. She hadn’t realized she was shivering until the warmth settled over her skin. He let his hands rest on her arms for a moment before turning away, and she exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

She had forgotten how hard it was to breathe around him.

“Drink?” he asked, already heading for the bar.

“Please.”

He poured something into a glass and returned to hand it to her.

“Thank you.”

He nodded, and gestured at the couch. “Please, sit.”

She took a seat on the sofa and felt the sting of rejection when he sat at the other end. Complicated was an understatement for all that was between them, but she couldn’t deny that all the old feelings were still there. Was it simpler for him? Had his feelings for her changed?

“How are you?” he finally asked.

She took a drink, then looked down at the whiskey in her glass. “I’m… okay. Still getting used to everything the way it is now.”

“And David?”

She looked up, somehow surprised that he would mention her brother. “He’s okay, too,” she said softly. “Dealing with all the unfinished business between him and our father.”

“I’m sure that’s very difficult,” Nico said, his voice full of regret.

She nodded, then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about Carmine.”

“Thank you.”

She looked into his eyes. “What’s going on, Nico?”

“I thought you might know,” he said.

“Me?” She shook her head. “I’m not involved in the Boston operation, but I doubt Frank has the ambition to come after you.”

“I thought the same thing,” he said.

“Besides,” she said, “why would someone kill Carmine? Wasn’t he just a Consigliere?”

She was still learning the terminology of her father’s illegal businesses, but she knew that Carmine had been a kind of advisor to Nico, the same way Frank had advised her father. Consigliere’s weren’t supposed to be part of the battlefield.

“I’m not sure I would use the word “just” to describe Carmine — or anyone in that role.”

“You know what I mean.” It came out sharper than she intended. She didn’t know much about the business, but she wasn’t stupid.

She thought she saw a flash of appreciation in his eyes. Figures. Nico wasn’t the kind of man to be turned on by complacency, however much he might have railed against her stubbornness.

“I do,” he said. “And you’re right. Someone in Carmine’s position isn’t usually a target for this kind of message.”

The whiskey and blanket conspired to make her more comfortable than she should have been, and she let the blanket slip off her shoulders. “What kind of message is it?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say it was designed to remind me that my allies are rapidly decreasing in number.”

“Why would someone want to do that?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “There could be a hundred reasons.”

She thought about it. “If why isn’t the place to start, how about who?”

“If I knew that,” he said, “I wouldn’t be sitting here.”

“There isn’t anyone you can think of who would want to hurt you?”

A smile touched the corners of his lips. “There are a lot of people who want to hurt me.”

She took a drink of the whiskey, savoring the way it worked its way into her system. Already everything seemed a little less intense. Nico was so close. It would be nothing to cross the space between them, to take his face in her hands and touch her lips to his.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

He stood, then walked to her end of the couch.“I’m going to go to bed.”

He held out his hand.

 

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Michelle Zink is the award-winning author of over seven novels. She lives in New York with too many teenagers and too many cats.
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