Reclaim - Aly Martinez Page 0,95

I brought you donuts and a coffee with enough cream and sugar to kill a horse.”

“So a bad talk then. Great.” Her front door suddenly opened, and she appeared on the other side, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, the phone still held to her ear. She was adorable, all mussed from sleep.

But that wasn’t why my mouth dried.

Or my heart stopped.

Or my cock twitched.

Nora Stewart was standing on the other side of the threshold in the sexiest outfit I’d ever seen. It wasn’t tight, revealing, or anything men usually found inherently sexy. But, to me, it was only one shade below her opening the door stark naked.

She was wearing my sweats—the ones she’d unabashedly stolen from me when she’d snuck out of my bed the one and only time we’d been together. They were my favorites despite the small bleach stain on the left thigh—an accident from when my roommate had taught me to do my own laundry. The bottoms were now frayed and there was a threadbare hole in the right knee, but they were mine.

And she was wearing them.

Five years later.

I couldn’t be as positive if the plain white T-shirt was mine, but based on the way it swallowed her, I thought there was a good chance.

And fuck me if it didn’t do some serious things inside my chest.

Following my stunned gaze, she looked at her clothes. Her head popped right back up. “I’m not giving them back.”

I had to clear my throat before I could reply. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“Well, as long as we’re on the same page.” She swung the door open in silent invitation.

I miraculously managed to put one foot in front of the other without falling and walked into her house. Jesus, this woman was going to be the death of me.

Taking the coffee and donuts from my hand, she carried them to the kitchen counter. “Now, how bad are we talking, Cam? Glazed bad? Or chocolate-sprinkles bad?” She pried open the top on the donuts. “Fuck. A dozen assorted. I’m dying, aren’t I?”

I stared at her. She wasn’t dying, but with what I had to tell her, it might feel like she was. And it was my responsibility to deliver the news, knowing that it was going to throw her back into the pit of demons she’d spent the majority of her adolescence trying to crawl her way out of. She’d come so far and yet another fucking Caskey was going to pull the rug out from under her again—and there was not one damn thing I could do to shield her from it.

Concern flashed across her face, and she abandoned the donuts and walked over to me. “Jeez, I was just kidding. Why are you looking at me like that?”

My throat got thick. Damn, this was going to be like burning at the stake. But it had to be done. She deserved to know. “I got a call from Caskey this morning.”

“Oh, God,” she groaned while staring up at me with bright-eyed anticipation.

Snaking a hand out, I gripped her hip and pulled her in close. “Apparently, someone is following him. He thinks it’s someone I hired, but my guy knows nothing about it.”

“Ohhhhhkay,” she drawled curiously. “So, somebody else hates him too. How is this bad news for me?”

I moved my hand up to her neck, cupping the back and giving her a reassuring squeeze. Fuck, I hated the Caskeys. “He has the videos, Nora. Josh’s videos.”

She blinked, processing and formulating. And I waited for the fallout, ready to be there when she fell.

“And?” she said matter-of-factly.

“And…he’s threatening to release them if I don’t call the mystery man off.”

She blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Like a time bomb ticking down to detonation.

I gave her neck another squeeze. “Nora, babe, I’m here to help, okay? We’re going to figure this out.”

She blew out a controlled exhale. “Okay. Have you ever defended someone in the mob?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “No.”

She nodded short and slow. “Albanian Mafia? I hear they’re pretty powerful.”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Do you have any connection to organized crime at all?”

More than just a little confused, I shook my head. “Not that I know of. Why?”

Tick. Tick. Tick.

All at once, she exploded. “Because I need a hitman!” Spinning out of my grip, she took several steps away. “Oh my God. What the hell is wrong with that family?” She paused. “Present company excluded. But holy shit, Cam. Those people are insane.”

“I know,” I replied because, well…she wasn’t wrong.

She started to pace. “I was twelve,