Hold Him Like Gravity (Lombardi Family #4)

Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Kick

My brother was missing.

I’d spent the last week trying to come to terms with that.

I’d been mildly worried when I’d left his apartment after hearing Bobby hadn’t seen Jake in a while. And that his cell wasn’t in service anymore.

But the real panic hadn’t set in until a day or two later after I’d worked through my anger about the robbery and decided I had to at least track the asshole down.

I’d spent the next several days hitting up all the places I knew he frequented. The comic book store where he—and sometimes Bobby—would go to play shit like D&D or Magic: the Gathering.

No one had seen him.

He hadn’t been in to the local bodega he used to visit several times a day, the bar he liked, the tattoo parlor he was always getting work done at, the pizza place he frequented.

He was… nowhere.

And no one had seen him either.

The guy behind the counter at the pizzeria had actually asked me where Jake was when he saw me.

Which left me to conclude he hadn’t just left Bobby to go shack up with a woman or something in the same area.

Sure, there was a chance he’d found a woman out of the area, but that didn’t explain the phone.

Maybe, if this was any other situation, I wouldn’t have been sweating it. He was an adult. He could take care of himself. And he was careless enough to forget to pay his phone bill and get his service cut.

But I’d seen him.

He’d been one of the robbers.

The crew who broke in really got me thinking, so I spent another two days researching local armed robberies and rapes. Even home invasions.

There was a depressingly large pool of options to sift through to see if anything matched the robbery at the meat shop.

Several hundred in just one month, to be exact.

I had the file of every single one. Then I had a map to mark where the ones that most closely matched the meat shop robbery were located.

I was only about halfway through with the Bronx. I hadn’t even started on the other boroughs yet.

I’d been deep in a research hole, my anxiety tripping into overdrive at the idea of never being able to narrow anything down when Rico knocked on the door.

Honestly, I’d been so wrapped up in trying to figure out what had happened with my brother that I’d practically forgotten that I had a job waiting for me.

I had the money to stay home.

I figured if Rico or Ricky called to ask where I was, I could just claim I was having some, I don’t know, concussion issues or something.

I never expected anyone to show up to check on me.

But there he was.

Looking even better than I remembered.

He was a little more dressed up than usual in black slacks, dress shoes, and a long-sleeve black button-up with a subtle shiny black stripe.

While I stood there in shorts that were just shy of being cheeky in a ratty t-shirt with hair I honestly didn’t remember the last time I’d washed.

He smelled amazing too. Smoky and delicious.

While I probably reeked of stale coffee and that metallic anxiety sweat.

“How have things been at the shop? How’s Ricky?”

“Things are fine. Nothing going on. Just the usual. Ricky is back at work. His wife was trying to make him drink kale smoothies or some shit.”

“I don’t blame him for coming back early,” I said, wincing. “I’m sorry I haven’t been yet.”

“Babe, don’t give a fuck if you need longer. Just wanted to check in on you. That’s all it is. Don’t need to rush back. Gonna have my cousin around the shop too if I need extra hands in the meantime.”

My heart constricted, worried he was trying to replace me, sticking this cousin of his in my place, then just say Welp, you took too long to get back here.

And I needed the job.

I mean, true, I still had the stacks of cash he’d given me. I’d been too busy trying to track down my brother and figure out what he’d gotten himself into and, who with, to spend any of it, save on one of my bills that came do since I’d gotten it.

“That’s nice,” I said, hating how tight my voice sounded, my tension that I could usually tamp down, keep under wraps, coming right to the surface thanks to all the worry, lack of sleep, and too much coffee. “To have family around,” I added.

“Yeah, he’s been away for a long time. It’s good to see him again. I left him at the club a little bit ago.”

“To check on me?” I asked. “Don’t let me keep you from him,” I said as he set Evander on the counter and moved into the shoebox-sized kitchen with me.

“Nah, it was time to go. He was dancing with some girls. I woulda just been in the way of him taking them home.”

“Them?” I asked, brows raising. “Together?”

“Yeah, probably,” he said, and that sexy little smirk of his was way too appealing.

And close.

God, he was so close.

When I reached up to grab the mugs, my whole arm brushed against his shoulder. I swear the sizzle worked its way down my arm, across my chest, down my belly, and pooled in my core.

“What is that smell?” he asked, ice water over my heating-up libido.

“What?” I gasped, stomach flopping. “I, ah, probably need to shower,” I said, taking a step away from him.

To that, he let out this little rumbling laugh that rolled through me, making me shudder.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You always smell like blueberry jam,” he said, making my muscles unclench. “What is it? Perfume?”

“Blueberry jam perfume?” I asked, shooting him a smile. “No. It’s lotion,” I told him, suddenly thankful that I didn’t veer from the scent even after years of using it. “Is… is it a good smell?” I asked.

I don’t know what I was expecting as a response, but having him lean over and sniff my neck was, yeah, not it.

He was so close that there was no way he missed the way a small gasp escaped me. Hell, he was close enough that he might be able to hear the way my heartbeat tripped into overdrive.

“Yeah,” he said, his breath warm on my skin.

And I may have, just possibly, tilted my head to the side a bit. A silent invitation… for what, exactly?

I had no idea.

But the disappointment when he slowly moved away had me swallowing back a small whimper that worked its way up my throat.

“Well, ah, I’m glad. That, you know, it’s a good smell. Don’t want to, er, repel the customers or anything,” I babbled as I poured the coffee, wondering if the flush I felt creeping up my neck and across my cheeks was obvious or not.

It was when I was handing off said cup of coffee was when my stomach decided to let out the loudest, most embarrassing grumble ever, objecting to the entire day of surviving on nothing but coffee and the antacids I’d chewed to stave off the anxious nausea I’d been feeling as I read the reports of all of the robberies.

At Rico’s raised brow, I waved it off. “I was about to throw a frozen pizza in the microwave,” I lied as I reached for my mug.

“That’s… one depressing-ass string of words,” Rico decided after a moment.

“They’re not that bad,” I said, mostly meaning it.

“Yeah, they are,” he countered. “Wanna go get a bite?” he asked.

“Of food?” I asked, then closed my eyes for a second, hating how muddled my brain felt when he was standing so close with his scent just swirling around me, making me feel practically drunk on him.

“You bite other shit?” he asked.

“No, I just… ah…”

“Hard question?” he asked.

“No. It’s just… I’m not, you know, dressed for going out.” I was pretty sure it had been two days since I showered, now that I thought about it.

“I got time,” he said, gesturing toward the hallway.

Some part of me wanted to turn him down, to push him out the door, and get back to my research.

The other part, though, knew it was probably good for me to get out, to get out of my head. It might even help me see things more clearly when I came back to it.

“Do you have enough time for me to take a quick shower?”

“You gonna put on more of that lotion?” he asked.

“I think I can manage that,” I said. “I won’t be too long. And no matter what Evander says, he can’t have more treats. He already ate half a bag tonight,” I said, looking at the cat who I swear was just shooting heart-eyes at Rico.

Who could blame him?

As I was walking away, I could swear I could hear Rico mutter We’ll see about that. And, if I wasn’t completely mistaken, I heard the crinkle of the treat bag as I ducked into the bathroom.

I tried to find the balance of being quick, but also making sure I was clean and smelling good, being hyperaware of how close we’d been in the kitchen.

“Hey, where are we going?” I asked, as I stepped into the hallway in my towel. “So I know what to wear.”

“Whatever you have on is—“ he was saying until he stepped into the hallway and saw me. His gaze slid over me, spending a little extra time on my bare legs and the area above the top of the towel where my chest had been squished together thanks to how tightly I tucked the material. “Probably not going to work,” he finished, voice sounding even thicker than usual. “Which is a shame,” he added. “Wear whatever you want,” he told me.

Typical guy. No help at all.

I rushed into my bedroom, desire still sparking through my veins as I fretted over my options before deciding on black jeans, heeled boots, and a simple white sweater that was, objectively, the nicest thing I’d ever owned, clothing-wise. It had been a lucky find at a secondhand store. I’d been picking my way through the fast fashion junk that was made of such thin material that I was sure it would fall apart after one wash and be horribly see-through even before then. Then there it was. A thick, well-made, designer sweater. For just a couple of bucks.

I bought it even though I figured I’d rarely have use for it. Now, I was glad I had it as I quickly dried my hair.

I’d already taken too much time, so I skipped makeup. But may or may not have applied another quick layer of lotion to my hands and neck.

“We might have to stop at the store to pick up some more treats on the way back,” Rico said, back to me, as he heard me coming.

“He’s got you wrapped around his finger.”

“Says the woman who feeds him more expensive shit than she feeds herself,” he said, turning. “Liked the towel better,” he said, shooting me a little lopsided grin. “But that’ll probably be more appropriate. You ready?”

“Yeah. Are you staying in?” I asked, looking over at Evander who seemed to be on his way to a full-on food coma. “I’ll take that as a yes,” I said as he leapt off of the counter to jump on the back of the couch.

With that, I grabbed my bag and followed my boss out of the apartment. “Oh, that’s good,” I said when we made our way toward the front door, where someone was fixing the lock. “That thing has been broken for a week now. The super didn’t seem too concerned.”

“Yeah, it’s good someone gives a shit,” he said, something in his tone making me watch his profile, but his face was unreadable. “Here, right here,” he said, his hand going to my lower back as his other raised to gesture toward a car idling by the curb.

“We could have walked. You didn’t have to get a ride-share.”

“I didn’t. He works for me,” Rico said, nodding at the guy who rushed out to open the back door as we approached.

“Is, uh, Lombardi Premium Meats a, you know, chain store?” I asked as he slid in the back with me. The heat was pumping out of the vents, chasing away the chill in the night air. And I was suddenly grateful not to have to walk in the cold.

“No. Just the one store.”

But he had a personal driver?

“Do you own other businesses?” I asked, looking over at him. Which was how I saw the look of confusion flash across his face for a second before it was gone.

“Yeah. Something like that,” he said, nodding.

Not having followed through on my plan to get to know this new borough I was calling home yet, I had no idea how fancy of a place the restaurant he took me to was until I had a menu in my hand. Then nearly had a heart attack over the prices of the items listed.

Even just the plain pasta with marinara was like thirty bucks. Who pays thirty bucks for something that costs, like, two bucks to make? Max.

And if you wanted to have a protein with your meal, forget about it, it was adding on twice that.

“What’s the matter?” Rico asked, making me look up to realize he was studying me.

“I just don’t know what to get,” I lied.

I tried to tell myself it wasn’t a big deal, that I had the money on me to split the check. Even if my rational mind would be bitter about having to spend that much on one meal. I mean, I could get like thirty frozen personal pizzas for that price.

“Want me to order for you?” he asked.

I hated when men ordered for women. It always seemed condescending if not outright infantilizing.

But, for some reason, I found myself agreeing.

And then I swear the guy ordered half the freaking menu as my mind tried to keep a running tally of how much that would be.

Which was probably why, when the server walked away, and Rico turned to me to start a conversation, I nearly choked on my own spit when he led with, “So what made you decide to leave the Bronx?”