Frisk Me

Luc grunted to himself as he drank three rapid swallows of beer.

His father noticed. “Something on your mind, bambino? A woman?”

Ava’s face immediately came to mind, and because it was easier to picture her slight curves naked beneath him than it was to remember Jensen’s dead eyes, Shayna Johnson’s limp body, he let his father take the conversation there.

“Maybe.”

Anthony and Vincent both turned their attention to him, argument forgotten.

“He’s banging the reporter,” Anthony said, gesturing at Luc with his beer bottle.

“I’m not banging her.”

Well okay, he was banging her. But it wasn’t like that. It was…he didn’t know what the fuck it was, but it was damn good.

So good that he’d broken one of his own rules and stayed the night with a woman.

And then he’d done it all over again on Saturday night.

Hell, they’d spent the whole fucking weekend exploring each other’s bodies, and leaving her apartment for his own had been disturbingly difficult.

“What?” Tony’s bottle hit the table with more force than necessary. “Tell me your brother has it wrong.”

Luc met his father’s gaze stonily. He knew his dad was wary about this Ava Sims thing, but his father wouldn’t even tell him why. And his dad had been plenty friendly to her when she’d come over to dinner. The whole family was.

So if there was a problem—and it was evident from Tony’s irate face that there was—then he’d just have to explain to Luc what the hell that problem was.

Luc gave a careful shrug, shooting his dad an easy grin. “She’s a gorgeous woman. We’re enjoying each other.”

Tony’s lips rolled inward and he wrapped his fist gently against the table. “Nobody’s arguing that she’s gorgeous. We all liked her well enough at dinner, but what the fuck you thinking, getting your cock tangled up in her reporter’s world? I thought you hated this story shit, and now you’re yakking it up via pillow talk.”

Luc’s own temper went off. “Okay that’s enough,” he snapped. “I can understand your concern, but you don’t get a vote in who I sleep with.”

“I do when you’re screwing the press.”

Luc plowed his fingers through his hair. “Look, Pops, you know how I feel about all this hero crap, but that’s got nothing to do with what Ava and I do in our time off.”

“So no cameras in the bedroom, huh?” Vincent asked, sounding genuinely curious. “Because if there’s a way to crop you out of it so it’s just her tight—”

Luc gave his brother a warning finger, his eyes never wavering from his father.

“Seriously, what is the big deal?” Luc asked his dad.

Tony leaned forward and there was anger in his eyes, but there was something else too. Fear.

“Playing nice with her for the sake of the department is one thing. We were all set to get her on your good side. But for the sake of her story, not your pecker!”

“What difference does it make?” Luc asked, his own voice rising. “I’m allowed to talk to her about myself while in uniform, or as long as the entire Moretti family’s around to chaperone, but not in bed?”

“Well I can’t keep you from saying something damned stupid in bed!”

Luc threw his arms up. “What is it you think I’m going to say? It’s not like there’s some cliché mob connection that we’re trying to bury behind the badge.”

“That’d be cool, though,” Vin said to himself. “Very bad-ass.”

Luc dimly registered what was happening. His hotheaded brothers were trying desperately to diffuse the mood and prevent a fight. A feat that normally was Luc’s duty.

The change in roles irritated him all the more. He didn’t need to be protected, not by them, not by his father.

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” Luc said, leaning forward and meeting his father’s dark brown gaze.

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