I adjust my position to angle away from him. Damnit. Why him? Why here? The one time I let loose—the one time I slept with a man I barely knew—the frat boy I avoided, the loudmouth I did my best to ignore—of all people, he’s assigned to guard me?

I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is the same man I tied to bed with my argyle socks!

I stare hard at my iPad, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks as I envision my future and reputation imploding around me.

“Montenegro’s second was arrested this afternoon,” Declan adds. “And we have a lead on his third.”

“Do you think either will talk?” Miles asks him.

Declan widens his grin. “They will once they know how much we have on them.”

Both men laugh. I shift my weight and steal a glimpse Curran’s way. The prosecutors may be talking mob bosses and arraignments, but his attention is all on me.

“Contessa, make a note that I’d like the records clerk to bring everything they have on Gus Mancini, starting from his first arrest.”

My fingers sweep across the screen. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

“Do I know you?” Curran asks, his deep voice cutting through the other men’s chatter and tensing every ridge in my spine.

My fingers pause their erratic typing. “No,” I answer quickly.

The old wooden chair creaks as he leans back. “I could swear I’ve seen you before. You hang out at Lou’s Barbecue or Romeo’s Pizzeria?”

“N-no, not at all.”

“What about Frank’s Bar? Or— I know, O’Malley’s Tavern?”

“No,” I mutter, doing my best to shield my face.

“Curran, do you mind?” Declan asks.

“Oh—sorry. I thought I knew Contessa here from one of my stomping grounds.”

“I assure you, I’ve never been to those places,” I stammer.

My nervousness and direct eye contact totally give me away.

Curran straightens as stunned recognition spreads along his features. “Argyles?” he asks.

Chapter 2

Curran

Tess Newart. Miss “Let me tie you up so I can ride you hard” is sitting close enough to touch. Fuck. Me. I never thought I’d see that face again.

But there it is, with a nice coat of red to top it off.

“Is there a problem?” Miles Fenske asks me.

His attention drifts from me to Tess. Hell, I never knew her real name was Contessa. Then again, I never knew that much about her. Unless you count the night we…

I clear my throat, knowing both Miles and Declan are watching me. “She’s wearing argyle socks,” I say like a dumbass, motioning to her feet.

“And?” Miles asks.

I shrug. “Didn’t know grown-ass women wore that shit.”

I grimace. Okay. Probably not the best response. But damn, argyles? It’s been what—almost four years since I last saw her? And she’s still wearing those things? What the hell’s up with that?

Miles looks to Declan, whose grip on his pen tells me he’s seconds from stabbing me in the eye. I should be on my best behavior in front of his boss. But I’m not. In my defense, Tess, here, now, is a damn good reason to be off my game. Not that she’s exactly thrilled to see me. Shit. I thought we had a good time.

She keeps her attention forward and away from me, her spine straight enough to raise a flag on.

Okay. Maybe it wasn’t as good for her as it was for me.

Declan forces a laugh. “You’ll have to excuse my brother. His mouth sometimes gets away from him,” he says, gritting his teeth.

“That’s understandable,” Miles says, nodding. “My father, God rest his soul, was a police officer.”

“Yeah?” I direct my focus back on him. “With Philly?”

“No. Newark.” He takes his time answering, appearing to remember his old man. “He worked long hours to put me through school, and get me where I am today. He took pride in the job. But too much time on the street and too many felons to deal with eventually took their toll.”

“Yeah,” I agree, meeting him square in the eye. “Those shithead perps can do a real number on you.”

I thought for sure Declan would snap that pen in his hand in two. Miles, though, nods like he understands what I’m saying. “You have a hard job, my friend. Please know how much our office appreciates you, and all that you do.”

“It’s my sworn duty and honor, sir.” I mean what I say, but I’ll admit I’m laying it on pretty thick. It’s probably taking Declan all he has not to roll his eyes. My bullshit always screws with his patience. But he has his gifts and I have mine.

Miles adds a respectful nod, which I return. There’s a reason Miles Fenske knows who he knows and holds the position he does. He’s keen on what to say, and how and when to say it.

“So tell me about the third in command,” Miles says, returning his attention to Declan. “He’s managed to stay under the radar until now. How is that possible? And how is someone that young so high in the ranks?”

Declan goes into full attorney mode, spitting out everything he has. Without meaning to, I let my attention wander back to Tess. And damn, hasn’t she changed. Her once stick-thin frame has filled out. Her rack, while still small, actually makes a dent in that green blouse she has buttoned to the base of her throat. Gray pants cover her long legs, and she’s wearing the same kind of shoes Ma’s friends wear to church—the kind that belong on spinsters and fucking leprechauns. Why the hell is she wearing those damn things? Better yet, why’s she covering up that body? Especially now that she has a respectable ass to grab.

“Well, everything looks in order. Keep up the good work,” Miles says, wrapping things up. He stands and shakes Declan’s hand, appearing satisfied. But as he pulls back, his tone gives away his concern. “I know you want to work this alone, but if you need more staff, I expect you to notify me at once. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. I will.”

No he won’t. Big bro has something to prove and he’ll do it alone or die trying. Miles doesn’t suspect as much and leaves. Now, it’s just the three of us. One too many, if you ask me.

Tess resumes her typing. Declan his legal blubbering. Me, I’m back to eyeing that one-night hookup I broke the bed with.

She leans forward, tucking her hand against her face so her blond hair falls in soft waves. That’s different, too. One length, down to her shoulders, not like that pin-straight haircut that never made it past her chin and bangs so straight I could have used the edge as a lever.

There’s something else, too….She squirms in place under the weight of my scrutiny, adjusting her— That’s it: the glasses. They’re not those giant Harry Potter–looking pieces of crap. They’re little, square, and yeah, kind of hot.

“Curran?”

Aw, hell. I look up at Declan. “Wassup?”

“Contessa has to pick up some paperwork the judge just signed. My detectives are tied up at the moment. I asked if you could accompany her courtside?” he snaps, his jaw clenched so tight, I’m sure he’ll crack a molar.

“Oh, yeah. I’m on it.”

Tess leaps to her feet. “I have to close out my files and shut down my computer first. It’s late, and I left it on. I’ll be right back.” She rushes away, slamming her knee into the chair. I reach to steady her, but she jumps like I burned her and plows into the wall. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m—I’ll be right back.”

She tears out of the room, slamming the door behind her and working that ass like—

“Did you fuck my intern?” Declan growls.