Storm's Cage by Mary Stone (uplifting novels .TXT) 📕

I hope you wrap your car around a tree.

She managed to keep her thoughts inside her head, and before he’d even reached the end of her car, she was behind the driver’s seat and locking the doors.

Not wanting him to follow her, she waited for him to turn out onto the street before she pressed her head to the steering wheel and let out an explosive breath.

“Son of a freaking damned asshole bitch! Why can’t you leave me alone?”

Cheeks flushed with anger, and eyes watering with tears she refused to let fall, Amelia slumped down in the seat. How did she let herself get into this position? She should have punched him or kneed him in the balls.

Even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew the idea was childish, but she needed an outlet for this frantic energy. The smart thing would be for her to not waste energy on the pushy, womanizing asshole. But she couldn’t bottle up her feelings. They’d just come out in other very bad ways. She needed a distraction. At least for now. Something to calm her and stop her hands from trembling so she could drive home safely.

A muffled buzz ripped through the noxious cloud of anxiety and disbelief. The sound was faint, but the disturbance struck her with the force of a stadium air horn.

Did Joseph change his mind? Was he calling to say he can’t wait? Is he on his way back to the parking lot?

She jerked upright and searched for the phone, fishing all the way to the bottom of her handbag.

Her stomach tied itself into knots as she pulled out the vibrating phone. The number that lit up the screen wasn’t familiar, but her breath came a little easier when she realized her caller wasn’t Joseph.

Pushing the hair back from her forehead, she accepted the call. “Hello?”

“Amelia. Hey, it’s me. It’s Lainey. Oh my god, you answered. I…can we talk? Please?”

Shit.

She’d been so relieved not to see Joseph’s name that she hadn’t paused to consider who might have been calling her from an unsaved number.

When Amelia didn’t answer right away, Lainey went on. “I’m…I’m just in a tough spot right now, and I could really use your help. My boyfriend…he’s been.” She paused, sniffling on the other end of the line. “Neither of us can find a job, and he’s been making me do things for money. Like hiding drugs and driving up to Canada. And…and other stuff too.”

The story should have stirred up an ache in Amelia’s heart, and on some level, she was disappointed it didn’t.

For the last five years, Lainey’s song and dance had played on repeat. Her story of hardship was just that—a story. There was no forced drug muling, no forced prostitution. Lainey was an addict, and anything she did, she did for her next fix.

“Please, Amelia.” Another sniffle. “I could really use some help. Just a couple hundred, I know you can—”

“No, Lainey. No. This is not the time for this.” As Amelia dragged a hand over her face, she grated her teeth and tried to swallow her ire. She wasn’t mad at Lainey, and Lainey wasn’t the reason she was on the cusp of smashing her phone into the dashboard. But if she had to listen to another of her little sister’s tall tales about struggles that had never happened, she’d snap.

“Amelia? Are you still there?”

“No.” She knew right away how stupid the response sounded, but she didn’t care. She wanted to get her sister off the line before she made a comment she’d regret. “Don’t call me to ask for money again, Lainey. Goodbye.”

Without waiting for a reply, Amelia pulled the phone from her cheek and disconnected the call.

As she watched the screen dim and then fade to black, she wondered if she should reach out to Zane. She’d told him about the first time Joseph had tried to get her to go home with him, but that situation had been much different.

Tonight wasn’t an awkward proposition that she accompany him back to his apartment for drinks. Tonight, he’d backed her into a real corner.

The writing on the wall was clear. If Amelia didn’t go along with Joseph’s so-called suggestion that they sleep together, he’d rat her out. He’d tell SAC Keaton and the entire Federal Bureau of Investigation that Amelia had prematurely shot and killed Alton Dalessio.

If she was lucky, she’d lose her job.

But if she wasn’t so lucky, she’d be sent to prison. And she knew how well former law enforcement officials fared behind bars.

Zane wouldn’t be able to help her if Joseph made good on his unspoken threat. Involving Zane would only put him at risk for retaliation either from Joseph or the FBI.

Amelia was on her own.

21

The red glow of the traffic light caught the screen of Joseph’s cheap burner phone as he flipped open the device. He’d missed a call from Joe Dalessio while he and Amelia had been in Chereez’s Bar and Grill. Since the stakeout of Russel Ulmer’s apartment building had yielded nothing, Joseph assumed Dalessio had found Ulmer and stashed him at a Leóne safe house.

So much for returning to his apartment to watch for Amelia’s reaction when she got home.

She’d been taken off guard by his proposition, but Joseph suspected that, deep down, she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. He’d felt the rapid cadence of her heartbeat when he’d run his hand down her neck, and he’d heard her hitched breathing when he whispered in her ear.

She just needed to give him a chance to run through all the dirty fantasies that played like a film in the back of his mind. And she would. Soon, he’d show her.

Before any more blood could rush to his growing erection, he shook himself out of the thoughts. The night wasn’t over yet, and he still had work to do.

Glancing up as the light changed to green, Joseph dialed Dalessio’s number.

The capo’s