Veiled Amor by V. Theia
NINE
“Too close for biker comfort.” - Capone
To get them out of that too small motel room where he picked up her perfume with every breath, he took her to eat a few hours later.
“What you hungry for?” He asked her, all too aware she was walking at his side, their arms brushing.
“Whatever you’re having is fine.”
Capone’s feet came to a halt on the sidewalk, making the people behind him take a wide berth as a guy cursed for the disturbance but thought better of it when Capone glared at him.
“Lucia, what do you wanna eat?”
“I already said…”
“I know what you said, and knock that shit off. Don’t passively go along with whatever someone else wants.” He’d guessed that shit so on the money when she flushed and took her eyes away from his. “I know it’s all you’ve known, but you can do whatever the fuck you want, sí?”
“Yes. I could eat a sandwich.” She smiled up at him like he’d given her the Hope Diamond, and he felt the punch of it in his gut.
She was too beautiful, and he’d underestimated how difficult this would be.
They walked a few blocks. The one thing he didn’t have to do was worrying about the silence because Lucia filled in the gaps with a running commentary of the missing six years of their lives.
Capone found his lips twitching as she told him about people from the old neighborhood he knew. He’d kept in touch with so few.
“You wouldn’t recognize the neighborhood now,” she said as they reached a local bar. He opened the door, ushering Lucia in first, “so much has changed.”
He knew that already. He didn’t ever go back to Miami, but he monitored old haunts through his MC buddies. At the first opportunity, after he’d left, he had his parents’ house demolished, and the land sold. He knew there was a new women’s refuge there now, owned by the city. A place he anonymously donated to every year. He thought his mom would approve. She never approved of much of what he did. By the time he was sixteen, he was already running with the local MC, earning a reputation of someone not to be messed with. But like all good Puerto Rican sons, he loved his mama.
After choosing a corner booth, he passed her a menu, listening to her stories. He’d missed her rabid conversations. With anyone else, he would have told them to shut the fuck up. Instead, he listened to her melodic voice, knowing how her throat moved under his hand when she was making other noises.
Goddammit.
It wasn’t something he needed forefront in his mind. But as she looked over the menu, he watched her slim throat working when she swallowed, and he felt a tightening in his jeans.
To look at her, Lucia appeared like a sweetheart of a girl, a former cheerleader homecoming queen, quiet with a heart as big as her eyes. She wouldn’t fuck around with a biker, not someone like him. She was made for a high climbing career and a marriage to a nice guy. But he’d seen a different side to her, hadn’t he? He wanted to know if many knew how dirty that sweet tongue of hers was. How many men had she whispered her dirty words to make them lose their minds, as Capone had?
“Earth to Capone.” He flipped his gaze up to find Lucia watching him, smiling.
Capone? Since when did she call him by his road name? It made his jaw tick. He’d always been Gi or Giancarlo to her. The last person who called him by his name.
“The server is waiting to take your order.” Some watchdog he was when he hadn’t noticed the younger girl coming to their table. “I’ll take a beer and a fried shrimp po’ boy.”
“Extra jalapeños, right?” Piped Lucia, and he stared across at her, answering in a hot rasp. “Yeah.”
“Be right back, folks.”
“What did you order?”
“A croque monsieur and some Cajun fries for the table. I remember you liked them spicy.”
The food came out within a few minutes, Capone was on his second bottle of beer. He watched the delicate way Lucia tested her pink lemonade with simple sips.
“Do you mind?” She asked, sluicing fries through his pot of garlic aioli before he could answer her.
“Fortunately, I don’t, nena.” He arched a brow, and she laughed. He pushed the small bowl closer to her for easier access, and she sent him a smile so bright it put lust in his abdomen.
They didn’t stay long. It was as Capone tossed down a few bills that he saw a table of Renegade Souls across the bar. He recognized a few from their rallies over the years. The guy clocked him and jutted his chin to Capone. On their way out, his hand went to Lucia’s lower back. “I’ll just say hi to someone, nena.” He told her.
“You’re far from home.” The guy grinned, the pair of them slapped hands. He felt Lucia shuffle closer when Souls eyes streaked over her, and he tightened his hand on her hip.
“Sí. I fancied trying your jambalaya, papi.”
“Does Shark know you’re here? You should come by, always got beers, brother.”
“I talked to him earlier, he’s doing a favor for me.” He didn’t elaborate, and the subject didn’t go any further because Eli’s gaze slid to Lucia with interest, though he had a woman practically sitting on his lap. “Who is this? Introduce me, Capone.” The Louisiana chapter Souls officer smirked, and Capone, unbidden, almost growled at the interest he saw in the other man’s eyes.
“None of your business.” He said at the same time, Lucia stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Lucia.” Though she clung to his side, she went around the table like a damn debutant, smiling and introducing herself.
“Good to meet you, sweet darlin’.”
Capone knew what Eli saw when he looked at Lucia. Petite with silky blonde hair and a figure to make any man salivate. She’d dressed modestly in leggings and a jacket, which didn’t diminish her sensual shape. At all. And the interest flickering in Eli’s eyes made Capone want to commit a crime that ended in bloodshed. “She yours, brother?”
“She’s none of your business.” He tried to keep coolness in his tone, even threw in a smirk as his hand tightened on her hip, probably bruising her, but she didn’t move back from his touch. “We gotta head out, catch you soon, papi.”
“Sure thing. Bring the lovely Lucia with you.” The asshole winked at her.
“How do you know them?” She asked outside.
“They’re Renegade Souls, Louisiana chapter.”
“They seemed nice.”
Capone grunted and rushed out an arm, snaking it around Lucia’s waist before the crowd on the sidewalk knocked her over. It was after 1 a.m., but NOLA never slept.
There was a brief pause when they both realized he’d pulled her in closer. He expected her to step away. Instead, she stayed in the confines of his arm, even turning her body in toward him as they continued walking. Some random guy walking with another woman bumped into Lucia. “Hey, sorry.” He told her. She was completely cool with it. Capone, though? He was acting like a snarling dog, protecting a bone as he swallowed a pissed-off growl.
Back at the motel, Lucia became dramatic. He didn’t know why at first. Until. “The car. The BMW is gone! Do you think one of his men took it?”
“Relax, nena.” He told her, unlocking the door. “I had one of the Souls boys pick it up. They took it to their garage to look it over for tracking. If it’s clean, we can keep using it for now, once I know it’s not reported stolen. If not, we’ll sell it.”
“Oh,” she breathed. Then. “You should have told me.”
Yeah, he should have. But Capone realized his rules of decency wouldn’t apply here. So when he shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it on the chair, he faced her to let her know how shit was gonna go. “You asked for my help, Lucia. That means we do things my way now, sí? I won’t always ask permission if something needs doing.”
Though she looked like she wanted to say many things, she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, nodding. “I’m tired and need to get changed. You’re bigger, Giancarlo, take the bed.” She grabbed a set of PJ’s and closed the bathroom door behind her.
Like hell he would.
Sighing a breath, he didn’t realize he’d been holding, he lowered down to the armchair, unlacing his boots, he kicked them off, then unfastened the leather belt, letting it hang on either side of his jeans. The room was tiny, and he already had regrets, but he wouldn’t leave her unchaperoned by getting a room to himself. It was a miracle Nicholas hadn’t scooped her up already, not like she was hiding her tracks.
She’d make a pitiful fucking spy.
Capone sighed again, scraping blunt nails over his head. He was dog tired. For days, a sense of dread had plagued him, unable to get a read on it. Now he knew it was because of her.
Whichever way he wanted to acknowledge it, Lucia affected him.
She put him in a headspace he’d never been able to outrun.
But she also made the fire burn him alive.
He answered a text from Reaper when the door opened, and a sweet scent followed Lucia across the room.
“Capone, take the bed, I’ll curl up in the chair.”
His eyes lifted, and that’s when he saw the little shorts and vest shirt she was wearing to bed. A catastrophic pulse went through him, holding a groan at bay, he kept his hands hanging by his waist and didn’t reach out to grip her lush ass cheeks.
She blushed under his scrutiny. He didn’t bother to hide how he looked at her.
Lucia was beauty itself.
Nothing had changed about that.
Only now, she wasn’t nineteen.
Only now, she wasn’t his brother’s wife.
And Capone was still a wrong man.
He wondered why she wasn’t throwing a fit, telling him to get another room. She hadn’t questioned him at all, and he knew it was because she trusted him.
She’d always put her trust in him unquestionably. Stupidly.
Because he wasn’t a man she should trust.
Look how he smashed that trust years back by taking her sweet body, by burying his grief between her thighs, and then leaving her behind to fend off a man like her fucking father.
He’d always had his reasons, as threadbare and breakable as they were, to keep her away from him, but if he had an ounce less of control right now, he would defile her in the same filthy way. He’d act on the sidelong glances by moving aside the shorts to taste her.
More important than sex, though, he wanted to earn her trust. She’d given it anyway, but Capone knew he had shit to make up for. Getting her away from Nicholas’ stronghold, making sure Lucia could have a life worth living on her terms and not shackled to an aging dick, was the task ahead for him.
Keeping his hands off her was going to take self-discipline.
He jutted his chin, “climb into bed.”
“But..”
“The bed, nena. I won’t sleep.”
She frowned, but climbed in with little fuss. He’d always appreciated the way she didn’t go on like the women in his family who didn’t know when to let shit lie, but that didn’t mean Lucia was a pushover either.
A little more time away from her father’s strictness, and she’d be a stubborn force to reckon with. Fortunately for him, he wouldn’t be around to witness it. He’d be happy enough to know she was happy.
And that was the lie he was sticking to.
“You still have trouble sleeping?” She asked after a few minutes of silence.
“Sí.” He listened to her shuffling in bed beneath the covers, only seeing the outline of her body, though he was aware she was looking at him through the darkness. Capone locked air in his lungs and then slumped in the chair, legs spread out in front of him.
“Yoga.”
“Qué?” What?
“Doing yoga would help you sleep. It relaxes every muscle in the body. I used to do a goat yoga class.”
The statement was so left field and so Lucia that Capone felt his lips turn up at the corners with amusement.
“A friend of mine has a pygmy goat.”
He heard her smile. “Really? They’re so cute.”
“Not sure I want one climbing all over me.”
She yawned, “it’s fun. You get distracted by the frolicking goats and forget your bones are screaming in pain.”
Smiling to himself, he imagined her having fun with Poppy’s goat. “Get some sleep, Lucia.”
More shuffling, and then she settled. “Capone?”
“Sí?”
“It’s great to see you. Goodnight.”
It’s good to see you too, mi corazón. I’ve missed you.
As stated, Capone slept little. But he didn’t mind. Not when he was watching over a girl who held real estate in his once empty chest.