Kneel Down Read online

  But right here at Kane and Kit’s wedding wasn’t like the dead silence of the Kaino cabin. Back then, I’d leaned forward, pressed a kiss against her lips. I meant to make it quick just to test the waters. Just to see what it felt like, and when I pulled away from her, Gin’s eyes were open, and she reached for me. She held my face still and kissed me back.

  From what I could piece together, it had never gone further than that because hell broke loose, and we had to fight. Then Trudy. Then drama. And now here we stood with the distance of a solid year and the distraction of Kiel’s asshole brother-in-law and my utter lack of doing a damn thing to give Gin what I suspected she wanted getting in the way.

  Now, I couldn’t let anything stop me.

  “Because…because I…”

  “There’s nothing, not one damn thing left for me here, Dale.” She stood up straight.

  My throat felt thick, and my chest twisted again as I watched her. Trudy had wanted everything I was, and I gave it freely. I thought I’d get the same back from her. I’d taken and given and given more until I could not give her anything else. I’d given to my siblings, and my kid brother had almost gotten me killed for it. Gin? I didn’t know if I could risk what losing her again would do to me. The first time had nearly done me in.

  “There’s something here for you…”

  Gin held her breath, clearly waiting. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she watched me. But the words got jumbled, felt awkward and stupid the more I thought about them.

  “It’s just I think there’s something…”

  Would she stay? For how long? With me? Could I keep her safe? Would I make her happy? Fuck, my head felt too big. My thoughts buzzed around like an overcrowded beehive, a fucking jumble I couldn’t get clear of. I couldn’t think straight.

  Gin’s expression fell as she waited.

  The seconds I didn’t speak up made her mouth dip lower. I panicked, feeling like an asshole even before I spoke. “I mean, Kit needs…well, and the…the show and…”

  Gin dropped her shoulders.

  I swear I spotted a flush of pink coloring her cheeks, a clear sign that she was pissed. Head shaking, she grunted, “Un-fucking-believable,” before she turned and walked toward the door.

  I managed to catch her just as she turned the handle.

  “No, wait.” The door slammed shut when I pressed it, and I left my hand there, palm flat against the frame, right next to her head.

  Her lips were full, thick, and drawn back like she was about to scream at me. “Don’t you dare think that you can…”

  I silenced her with a kiss. Taking her chin in one hand, guiding her head upward to angle her mouth closer. She tasted like cotton candy. Soft and sweet. Her lips warm, growing hotter, and I molded like putty against her, my fingers on her neck, cradling her head.

  I saw stars, a long whirl of air whooshing out of me when Gin sucker-punched me right in the gut.

  “You son of a bitch!” She shoved me out of her way before she threw the door back and marched down the hallway.

  6

  Gin

  A girl could get used to the good life. Well, the good life and her own DIY show.

  Okay.

  The good life, her own show, and a man as hot as Johnny Carelli looking at her the way he looked at me.

  Lord.

  “I like that smile, bella.” He worked his gaze across my face and over my body.

  Johnny Carelli was a dangerous man, especially when he looked at you the way he looked at me now.

  “How can you tell when you’re eyeballing my boobs?”

  “Skills.” He walked toward me, passing Angelo, his assistant, a black folder that he didn’t look at. “Practiced, honed skills.” Johnny touched my shoulders, moving his fingers down my biceps to grab my hands. He looked to his right, lifting his chin when the director cleared his throat. “Perfetto.”

  I liked the way he held on to me. I shouldn’t have. This was all new, weird, and unlike anything else I’d ever experienced. Never had anyone taken the reins from me like Johnny, and I hadn’t decided if I liked it. Cara had reintroduced Johnny and me after I’d left the cabin when her brother had stuck around Seattle to make sure his little sister was safe. He’d spotted the tension between Dale and me, and I guess Johnny figured it would be fun to see if he could wrangle a laugh from me.

  He had. Three weeks after the shootout. Three weeks after I’d vacated Kiel and Kane’s cabin for the quiet seclusion of my own rental near the city.

  Johnny had brought me two more bottles of his father’s Barolo, and we drank it together. Right out on my front porch swing with his long, muscular arm stretched out behind my shoulder and Otis Redding pumping from my vintage record player. The only pause in our conversation came when “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long” came on, and a flood of memory engulfed me.

  Johnny must have sensed that the song was tied up in whatever he thought was going on with Dale and me. He left the swing, casually replacing Otis with Frank Sinatra’s “Something Stupid,” from the stack of records I’d forgotten I had in the back.

  “Better,” he told me, returning to the swing. “Not a person alive who can listen to Frank and not be in a good mood.” Then he refilled my glass and spent the rest of the night making me laugh until my stomach hurt. He didn’t push but he did stick around, and that pissed Dale off, which made me happy.

  It kind of became a routine.

  The man in question squeezed my fingers, offering me a smile that made his sharp, angular features more defined. More impossibly handsome. “David will give you your cues, and the lines will be right in the teleprompter. You’ve rehearsed it. You’re fucking beautiful. You’re a natural.”

  “Bet you say that to all the redheads you meet.”

  “Just the ones with asses like yours, bella.”

  I paused, a little caught up in his teasing honesty and the grin he gave me as I stood on my mark and let the makeup woman fiddle with my hair. “You know, some part of my brain is shouting that I should be offended by that comment,” I told him, ignoring how devilishly handsome that man looked when he smiled at me.

  “That comes from years of independent thinking telling you every man has an angle.” He handed Angelo the phone he’d been messing with to give me his full attention.

  “That independent thinking has served me well for a long time.” I adjusted my collar, not bothered by Johnny’s widening grin. “Besides, I know dang well you’ve got an angle.”

  “Of course I do, cara. I’m a man with a pulse. I’ve been angling my way toward you for a year.” When I threw him a glare, Johnny amended. “I’m teasing you. This,” he said, waving around the set, motioning to the loft rooftop the crew had outfitted with the makings of what would be an urban oasis, “this is all business. Promise.”

  He promised that wasn’t what he was doing when he found me in Portland. The visits to Seattle were one thing. The spontaneous trips to Portland when the network agreed to my request for a reassignment were something else. He’d been teasing me with an offer for my own show. A pet project he swore would be all mine with no strings attached.

  Johnny promised treating me to clothes and a new haircut in an exclusive Portland salon was just his way of being friendly.

  He promised that a little shopping trip to a few designer boutiques was his way of extending that friendliness. Didn’t matter that I kept refusing his gifts and his kindness.

  The man was persistent.

  Hell, Johnny had even promised being my date to Kane and Kit’s wedding was just to keep me company. Not to do more sweet-talking about getting me to leave my gig at the network and come to New York with him.

  Then, Dale happened.

  Dale was always happening.

  One look at him, one five-minute conversation had decided for me.

  Years at Dale’s side had taught me a lot. Like how to bury feelings and desire way down deep where not even I would recognize what I felt.

 
; At first, I couldn’t entertain anything more than friendship. He’d been married. He’d loved Trudy, and then Dale didn’t love anyone or anything but the liquor he tore through and the job we did day in and out.

  He only loved the misery he was in, and that I buried even deeper because I couldn’t let him wallow in it all on his own. Even with his complaining, I helped him. Tried to, at least. I told Dale I had his back, told myself it was because he needed it.

  The truth was, the things I buried didn’t stay underground long. They came up easy, between the nights he lay passed out slurring on my sofa, pretending he felt no pain for the losses in his life, pretending it was only hatred he’d ever let himself feel anymore for anyone. Pretending he didn’t see how I looked at him. I hadn’t figured out why I took care of him the way I had for so long. Pretending he’d never touched me.

  I just couldn’t do it anymore.

  I took Johnny’s job to put distance between Dale and me.

  Had to do it, for my own sanity.

  “We ready?” the director asked, voice a little low, as though he weren’t yet sure how much control he had on this set. The man’s attention shifted between Johnny’s broad grin and my cocked eyebrow.

  “We’re ready,” I answered, shaking my head to get myself back in the game and the first shoot. “I’m…good to go.”

  “Excellent.” The man motioned toward the cameraman.

  I blocked out the flirting smile on Johnny’s face and the crew that surrounded us. I knew they likely thought I was a hack—the amateur best friend of the real pro. Kit was the talent. I was just her backup. It was likely I’d fall flat on my face, no matter how many times Johnny tried to convince me I was perfect for the vision he had.

  The attention in the room centered on me—a small congregation of strangers who could likely read how scared I was, how green. But I inhaled, remembering that this was my chance. This was my moment to have a say. Another one might not come my way. Just then, there were no judgments, no flirting mafia princes angling for anything. There were no gruff former SEALs incapable of loving me back. Then, there was only me and the moment I had every intention of taking.

  “Hi, y’all, I’m Gin Sullivan and this—” I waved around the beginnings of our humble work site “—is Urban Homestead.”

  “Perfect. Did I say that?”

  “About twenty times.”

  “Well, shit. It was. Man, that was perfect.” David waved a glass in my direction, leaning against Johnny’s desk like he didn’t need or want an invitation. “I mean…wow.”

  I wasn’t sure what to make of the director’s appraisal of me. It was half amazed astonishment and half close judgment, like he wasn’t exactly sure the shoot we’d just completed had gone as smoothly as he’d thought.

  “I mean, sincerely, honestly, that could not have been better.” He moved closer, seeming to forget for a second that Johnny sat between us on the other side of the massive wooden desk. His large frame like a statue David knew was there but was too distracted to remember. As though something loomed just over his shoulder waiting to pounce. Some anxious pigeon ready to peck out the man’s eyes if he moved any closer to me.

  But then, that might be my imagination or the effects of the three glasses of champagne I’d already downed at this informal post-shoot party inside Johnny’s small set office.

  “I got a feeling.” I smiled behind my drink, arms crossed as he wiggled closer. “It felt…good, you know?” The question was rhetorical. Meant more for myself, but I heard Johnny’s small laugh behind me and spotted David’s slow nod. Both reminded me that I had an audience—two men with an interest in me for very different and likely very similar reasons.

  “It was good. It was more than…”

  “What did I tell you?” Johnny slapped David on the back as he stood.

  The director’s surprise caught me off guard, as though the quick movement from his boss and the loudness of his voice reminded everyone why we were there and who was in charge.

  Johnny came around the desk and took David’s glass from him, placing it at the man’s side. The party ended with no more than Johnny’s warm but final smile that ushered the director away from me.

  I had a smile on my face, and my head felt fuzzy. Champagne filled me up almost as much as the adrenaline buzz that kept me grinning.

  Johnny turned from the door, those beautifully broad shoulders against the wall behind him, and even the small intoxication I felt seemed to dim.

  Still, he went silent. That ever-present grin proud and satisfied, so much so that it made me pause. I blinked at him, forgetting the thoughts that kept me from relishing the thrill of the moment.

  “What?” I put down my glass, ignoring my cell when it chimed with a text alert. “What’s the grin about?”

  “You.” He pushed off the wall, coming to stand directly in front of me. “I had you pegged the second I walked into Kaino’s cabin. Spitfire redhead mad at that dumb redneck.” When I frowned, not appreciating the reminder of how mad Dale had made me that night, Johnny seemed to catch on quick and hurried to kill the distance between us with his massive palms at my sides on his desk. He smelled faintly of cigar smoke and brandy. I caught the delicious hint of peppermint on his breath when he exhaled, gaze working over my face like he couldn’t quite believe what he saw when he watched me.

  A man like Johnny Carelli was intimidating. He was handsome and strong. The sort of man who had a presence. One that lingered when he entered a room and made his way around it. He caught attention and kept it like it belonged to him, and he dared anyone to argue with him about the possession. That kind of presence would humble even the strongest. But there wasn’t a person alive who could accuse Johnny of being cruel or rude when he wanted on your good side, and Johnny had always wanted on my good side.

  But I wasn’t some simple woman right off the turnip truck. I had a brain, and my hearing was excellent. Kiel had warned me, so had Cara. The Carellis weren’t a simple philanthropic family. They weren’t humble businesspeople. They were criminals. They had ties I probably didn’t want to know about. Ties Cara told me never to ask her brother about. I trusted her, even if I didn’t trust him.

  Johnny was intimidating and handsome. He stood less than three feet from me, his mouth very close to mine. He’d been closer before, but he’d never kissed me, not really. A peck on the cheek or a hug that lingered, but he’d never pushed like I’d always expected him to. There was something that held him back which he didn’t seem eager to talk about. But then, I hadn’t exactly been ready to take what was happening between us anywhere beyond a business arrangement. But now, with him looking the way he was, I wondered if Johnny would ask me to.

  “And…um, what did you think about the spitfire?” I asked when he went on looking me over, because the way he watched me became too much for me. “Other than all the cursing you heard me doing.”

  “I thought—” he moved closer, fingertips teasing against my cheek “—that whoever hurt you that badly, had you that mad, was the stupidest asshole in the world.” He brought his gaze to my mouth.

  I stopped breathing.

  “Having met that particular asshole, I can say I wasn’t so wrong.”

  Dale’s face flashed into my mind. Damn it all to hell. Just the mention of him could ruin a moment I might want. Or might not want. Lord, I wish I knew which it was.

  Johnny seemed to notice the distraction that had me looking away. He exhaled, releasing my face. I couldn’t decide if I hated how cold my skin felt without him touching me there or if I was relieved he wasn’t going to kiss me.

  “I ruin our little moment?” He stepped back.

  I was saved from answering when my phone chimed with another alert. I ignored it, deciding my new boss deserved my full attention.

  Johnny cocked an eyebrow, as though he were surprised.

  My smile came easy. Something that seemed to make his tight features relax. “I might be one of those rare animals that isn’t compe
lled to look at my phone whenever it moves or chirps or chimes for attention.”

  He sat next to me, sliding my cell over to make room for himself. “Aren’t you on the endangered species list?”

  I nodded, sighing dramatically because I liked when I could make Johnny Carelli, that imposing, intimidating man, laugh.

  He did just then, and I liked the sound of it. “They say repopulation is the best way to get off that list.”

  It was my turn to laugh. The noise that left my mouth fell somewhere between a shocked gasp and a soft snort of surprise. He always seemed able to one-up me with sarcastic responses, a lost art we both were practiced in.

  “Well, I think you’d have to give me a heck of a lot more than my own show, Mr. Carelli, if you want that to happen.”

  Another chirp sounded, and I leaned toward my phone, glancing at the screen before I shrugged, smiling back at Johnny. “Kit wants to know how today went.”

  “She’s your friend. You should tell her.”

  “I meant to call her and your sister.”

  “I told my sister.”

  Johnny ignored me when I tilted my head at him, wondering why he’d reported back to Cara before I had a chance to. “You did?”

  He nodded, glancing down at me, stretching his feet out in front of his desk. “My sister is a control freak, especially when it comes to her friends. Or me.”

  “Or you and her friends?”

  He laughed again. There was a light in his dark eyes that had something warm creeping into my chest. “Si, especially with me and her friends. Oddio, she thinks I’m going to do…dishonorable things to you…”

  “Well…”

  He glanced my way, flashing his attention to me. The grin he tried to keep off his mouth told me Johnny wasn’t angry. “You’re as bratty as she is.” When I narrowed my eyes at him, Johnny shook his head, not able to back that one up. “Okay, no one is as bratty as Cara.”

  “No, I don’t think anyone is. But I’m glad you spoke to her.” Another alert and I picked up my phone, holding it between my fingers to keep my hands occupied.