The question almost brought Dante Bianchi to his knees.Who. Was. This. Woman?So direct, so perfect, so how this night was supposed to end. He did not ask any questions of his own. He only told her where. Dante did what he often did when faced with surprises: he maintained his cool. He tipped the waiter who had attended to them, graciously, and ushered her outside where Imani waited at the wheel of the jeep; he made small talk and intermixed his fingers with hers as they made the walk towards the car.Never mind the cool demeanor he maintained outside, inside of his head, his instincts were knife sharp, focused at one goal: take this beautiful woman back to the expanse of his house and if he was fortunate enough this night, all things considered, get her in his bed.He let Jackie climb into the back seat and followed after her, instead of sitting up front with Imani as he often did when he did not like the feeling of being boss, of being trapped in a vacuum. All

JACKIEWhen she came to, it was morning and the windows were wide open. There was a moment of disorientation. The first thing Jackie saw was the faraway ceiling and the height of it confused her. Having lived in dorms and now, her apartment, she had grown accustomed to low ceilings and small spaces packed with necessaries. Here she was, waking up to this gaping, white vacuum. Pristine blinds billowed at the windows letting in cold air. The weak sunlight of late dawn filtered through the opening in spears of light. Jackie could have sworn that they had been shut the night before. If they were not, though, she was near sure she would not have noticed. Not with her tongue anchor-deep in Dante's throat and his hands swimming in her waist.He was still asleep next to her, lying facedown in the sheets. Jackie took in the lazy sprawl of his body, again. Asleep, he looked less capable of grim things and Jackie resisted the need that she felt to kiss his sleeping face, to brush t

SPEARSDante Bianchi was nothing like the Commissioner of Police had expected. This, in essence, meant that he was not old, pale and potbellied. Prior to the meeting that had been arranged between him and Natasha, he had not seen any photos of the man. Subsequently, all that changed. Ignorance had never done any man good, especially the ones in law enforcement, so he set out to know everything he needed to. This led to him being saddled with a pile of files and unfinished paperwork. There were gangs all over the city, lurking in the dark, claiming boroughs and sets. Their notoriety gained them more respect than fear, and if there was one thing that Coleman Spears had learned in all his years as an officer of the law it was that there was nothing scarier to a cop than a criminal that the people respected. Sometimes, the respect went as far as love. As a child, the story of Robin Hood was a fascinating story to Spears. As a person who had been a cop for longer than even he could rememb

DANTE The man's mother had a house uptown, in the wealthier parts of the city, squeezed between two much larger buildings. Hers was considerably smaller than the rest and elegant in its smallness, perched on an equally small parcel of land. There was no lawn. Merely looking at it, Dante approved. It did not stink of illegally obtained wealth, but smelled of gratification; did not scream of affluence, but spoke of small comforts. Dante knew well-hidden drug money when he saw it, though. And this was it.He alighted from the back of the jeep, but his uncle stayed. The man arrived in the city a few days after he had Jackie over at the house, and although the mansion was big enough that their paths would most likely not have crossed, he was thankful that Orlando had not arrived earlier. Yet was Orlando who had convinced Dante to make this trip. In his words, 'The people who work for you need to see that you care for them, Dante. Fear is one way to inspired loyalty. B

BIG JACKDeath was in the air tonight. Big Jack could just taste it. He did his best to shrug the thought away. It was only his nerves, he told himself. Running on caffeine and Coca-cola was not the best way to live.The receptionist was a lady in her mid twenties—or so he guessed—and like most people at that age, she had an attitude, and when she spoke, she sounded like disturbed water. Joaquin did a good job booking a room without threatening her within an inch of life, considering how exhausted they both were.'That would be 35 dollars a day.' She said, lips smacking gum. She never looked up from the computer. A row of gaudy bracelets jingled on her wrist whenever she moved her arm. Joaquin glanced at him. He returned the look. 35 dollars was mighty cheap compared to the places they had been to. 'We will take it.' Big Jack said.'Uh, you staying the week? It would be 250 dollars in total.'There was no chance they we're staying ther