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breath, Nico turned off the water and came back with a towel. After they dried off, Nico took her hand and led her to the bed. He pulled her down next to him, holding her naked body against his as the waves rushed onto the beach below the house. There was too much to say and not nearly enough. She let herself fall into the rhythm of his heartbeat, as familiar as a lullaby. It was the last thing she remembered before she tumbled into the void of sleep.

8
    He lay in bed for a long time after he woke up, trying to memorize the feel of her against him. He’d been surprised to see her walking toward the house, had been both desperate and afraid to see her. He’d learned to live without her, if that’s what you could call what he’d been doing. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d been doing it, had taught himself to tiptoe around her memory when it had the most power to harm him. Now she was back, and he felt anew the all-consuming need for her. It was beyond physical, although he wouldn’t fool himself into believing she wasn’t made for him, that her body wasn’t created as a perfect match to his.
    But it wasn’t only that. It was something more elemental, something that went beyond flesh and bone. His soul knew hers, had experienced a visceral jolt of recognition the first time he’d seen her. It was ridiculous and fanciful, not at all in line with the practicality he’d honed to a fine point in the name of running the Vitale empire. Knowing when to reward, when to threaten, when to kill… those things were easy compared to the mysterious chemical attraction he had to Angel Rossi.
    Did she go by Rossi now? Or had she stuck with Bondesan in the wake of her father’s death? He wouldn’t blame her if she had. Carlo Rossi had been one of the worst of the Syndicate’s bosses, had held his own daughter at gunpoint to try and escape Nico in London. He didn’t deserve to have her carry on his name.
    Sunlight was leaking through the windows when he finally slid out from under her arm. He didn’t want to do it, would have stayed in bed with her all day if he could. But his business—and the only family he had left—was under threat. He couldn’t afford to be emotional at their expense.
    He pulled on a pair of sweats and left the room, then descended the stairs to the kitchen. He dialed Luca’s number while he started the coffee.
    Luca picked up on the first ring. “Boss.”
    “Talk,” Nico said into the phone.
    “Are you okay?” Luca asked.
    “No,” Nico said. “I’m not okay. I’m hiding like some kind of pussy while someone targets my business.”
    “Got it,” Luca said, his voice tight.
    “I don’t care if you have it,” Nico said. “What are you doing about it?”
    “We’ve put out the word, and we’re leaning hard on every informant we have, anyone who has an ear to the ground with the Syndicate, to try and figure out who’s behind Carmine’s murder.”
    “And?” Nico prompted.
    Luca exhaled. “It’s not much. Sara said the data breach looks like it originated in LA. Took her while to find it. Apparently it was routed through several other IPs in Asia.”
    “LA?” Nico couldn’t hide his surprise. “That’s… unexpected…”
    “I thought the same thing,” Luca said.
    “I’ll call John, feel him out.”
    John Lando was head of the west coast family, and while they were part of the Syndicate, John was a breed all his own. Born and bred in Los Angeles, the movie business was a big portion of John’s legitimate income stream. The man had a love for film that was unrivaled, and Nico often suspected he only bothered to run the illegal portion of his business to fund the movies that were so near and dear to his heart. John was Sinatra to Farrell Black’s commando, and he had never made secret the fact that he found the more violent aspects of the Syndicate distasteful. He usually stayed on the sidelines during Syndicate scuffles and turf wars.
    “Want me to do it?” Luca