Not Mine to Keep (The Costa Family)

“What are you listening to?” Hudson was in the doorway of my office at the security firm, staring at me with a puzzled expression.

I turned off the music app on my phone and leaned back in my desk chair. “You’re telling me you’re from Texas and don’t know Chris Stapleton?”

He laughed. “Of course I do. I just didn’t think you would.” He pushed away from the door and came inside. “Your wife’s influence, huh? Thought you were avoiding her, though?”

I’d done my best to steer clear of Calliope after I almost lost my control Thursday night. It was also why I was at the office on a Sunday night—officially June and the month I’d divorce—listening to country music. What’s happening to me?

I was stalling going home, worried about having another late-night encounter with her. The last few mornings, I’d disappeared before the sun rose and hadn’t gotten in until at least zero dark thirty.

Hudson didn’t press me to answer him, and I was grateful for that. He snatched my black bottle of Clase Azul Ultra and filled two tumblers with a single shot.

“Why are you here?” I asked, instead of admitting to him my wife was rubbing off on me in ways I wished she wouldn’t, even if I’d barely seen her in person. “Shouldn’t you be running your bar? You do have another job.”

He handed me the glass and took a seat in front of the desk. “Bar’s closed on Sundays, remember?”

“Right.” I looked to the open doorway, half expecting my sister to pop in, too. She’d been a constant pain in my ass since we’d arrived in New York by checking on me, or having Enzo text me, to ensure I hadn’t snapped, crackled, or popped—her words. I was pretty sure she’d meant them exactly as they sounded. I was a ball of tension without doing the two things I was good at—hunting criminals and having casual sex.

“I’m worried about you.” He crossed his ankle over his knee, setting his glass on his thigh.

“Izzy sent you, didn’t she? She saw on the cameras I’m here late again.” I should’ve known. She was creeping on me, just like I’d been checking on my wife over the security system at our house the last few days.

He frowned. “No.”

“Liar.” I sipped the tequila, waiting for him to fess up.

“I had some time to kill, didn’t feel like being home myself, and thought I’d come here and do a little more digging into Gabriel.”

I sat taller at his words. “Why didn’t you want to be home?” I had my own reasons; what were his? “And what’d you find out? Or did you find anything?”

“First, tell me, are you good? Do I need to worry?”

I laughed. “Is this an intervention?” Snatching my phone, I looked up toward the camera, wondering if my sister was watching now. “I haven’t checked on her all day.” I wasn’t the best liar.

Three hours ago, I’d flicked on the camera in the music room, even though I’d vowed not to stalk-view her again. In my defense, I hadn’t been able to spot her anywhere else in the house, so I’d been worried. She’d been playing her guitar while singing, and I’d been glued to my seat.

Yeah, maybe I am a creeper. At least I hadn’t whacked off at my desk at the sight of her in those sexy cut-off jean shorts and cowboy boots during my private performance.

Of course, tonight while she slept, it’d happen in my shower, just as it had Friday and Saturday nights. I could barely breathe in that room, knowing she was half-naked in my bed, remembering how her pussy had responded to me on our “honeymoon” night. And that mouth of hers when we’d kissed . . . What a mouth, dammit.

Realizing I was waving my phone at the camera in the corner of my office and the light wasn’t on, so no one had eyes on me, I let it fall to the desk and finished the tequila. And right, I did have eyes on me. Hudson’s shocked blue ones, to be exact.

“You haven’t answered my questions yet, and you clearly have the answer to yours, that I’m not okay. You should worry. A lot,” I found myself admitting on my way to get another drink. “I can’t be saved or helped, though, so what’s going on with you? With Gabriel?”

“No red flags I can find on Gabriel yet, which feels like one itself. I get you two have a history, but he risked a lot four years ago, saving you and Constantine. Doesn’t add up.”

After refilling my drink, I went over to his and added more, even though he’d yet to touch it. “He’s not a bad guy for being a bad guy.” Shit, now I was talking like Calliope. And also, I was back to calling her by her full name (at least in my head). I couldn’t help it. Fuck Braden and his use of it, though, and the fact I had a feeling my wife had talked to him since arriving in New York. The only shocker was she’d yet to bring up the gig on Broadway again, not that I’d given her a chance.

“But you believe he saved you and Constantine just because?”

I returned the bottle to the cart. “He knew I’d owe him for it, and he has enough patience to wait to collect on a favor one day. That much I believe.” I faced him again. “But keep looking. My judgment isn’t so great.” After another sip, I asked, “Why don’t you want to be at home?”

Hudson set the glass on the desk, grabbed hold of the back of his neck, and squeezed. “Because your sister’s there.”

I about dropped the glass. “Say that again.”

He held up a hand and shook his head. “It’s not like that. There was a gas leak at her place, and she didn’t want to stay in Long Island at your parents’ other place, and she said your mom would bug her about visiting Calliope if she went to their place by Central Park. So she asked to spend the weekend at my place.”

“She has other friends. Female ones. Ones she didn’t kiss—well, that I know of, at least,” I snapped, way too tense to be thinking about my sister shacking up with my good friend. “Also, what am I, chopped liver? Or there’s Constantine?” She’d been blowing up my phone all weekend, checking on me, and yet had failed to mention where she was while harassing me.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Bella doesn’t take no for an answer, you know that. She showed up at my door yesterday with a bag and determination. I suggested your place. She said you have concerns about her getting attached to your wife since this is a short-term assignment.” He paused to let that ugly truth sink in. “And she did try Constantine first, but he had . . . company.”

“What kind?”

“The kind you normally have.” He shrugged. “A no-strings-attached friend for the weekend. Someone he knew once upon a time ago and bumped into her.”

Great, now Constantine was getting laid while I resorted to jerking off in my shower. The fact Constantine hadn’t mentioned this old friend visiting pissed me off. Everyone was walking on eggshells around me ever since we’d gotten back to New York, like I might blow a fuse.

I glared at my phone on my desk, remembering my fuse was pretty short, so maybe they weren’t wrong. “And what about her friends?”

“She said they’re all married and I’m her only single friend, yada yada yada.” He snatched his glass again and took a sip. “I tried.”

“You can’t ‘yada yada yada’ your way out of my sister spending the weekend at your place, and the fact you don’t trust yourself to be alone with her means . . . what, exactly?”

The calm and normally quiet man probably wanted to chuck his glass at me, but I knew he wouldn’t. “She drives me nuts, that’s all. Don’t be ridiculous.” He polished off his drink. “That kiss in Rome was your sister being a pain in all of our asses, too, and you know it.”

“About that.”

“There’s nothing else to say.” And yet, he was refilling his glass.

“You sure?” I waited for him to face me so I could stare him down.

“Bella’s like a—”

“Don’t say sister. You’ll throw up in your mouth if you do.” Because fuck, I knew that look. Recognized desire when I saw it, because I was right there with him when it came to Calliope. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him feeling that way toward my sister, but with her track record, Hudson was quite the improvement. The only problem? He was like me and would break her heart one day.

Hudson glanced up at the ceiling for a breath, then asked, “You feel like going hunting?”

Find an asshole or two that needed to be taught a lesson? We wouldn’t have to go far in the city to stumble upon one lately. “Best idea I’ve heard all day.”