Stolen Touches (Perfectly Imperfect, #5)

by Neva Altaj

Picking up the jacket, she leaves the apartment. “Nino, who’s on the Scardoni girl?” I ask. Nino looks up, his attention shifting away from his methodical task of breaking Octavio’s fingers. “It should be Pietro’s turn.” I find Pietro’s number and call him. “Where is she?” “Getting into a cab,” he says. “Follow. Let me know where she goes.”

“What could I possibly have to hide?” His gloved fingers release my hair and brush against the skin along my upper arm in the process, sending an excited shudder throughout my body. “I don’t know. Are you an ex-con? A politician with a wife and three kids at home?” “I don’t have so much as a speeding ticket to my name. No wife or kids, either.” “Why not?” I raise an eyebrow. “How old are you?” “Thirty-four. Having a wife and kids was never something I planned.” “And do you have a set plan for everything?” “For most things, yes.” He looks into my eyes. “Would you like to apply for the wife position?”

As we’re crossing the street, a bunch of teenage boys rush toward us from the other side, shouting and fooling around as they often do. The jacket guy’s hand lands on my hip, drawing me closer to his side, and he holds me tightly as the kids fly by in a flurry of waved arms and banter. Damn, I’m a sucker for guys with a protective steak.

The author wrote steak instead of streak

“What would you do if someone hurt her, Salvatore?” I turn my head rapidly to face her, pinning her with my stare. She takes a step back, but I know it was unconsciously done. Everyone does it. Except Milene. She usually juts her chin up. Or smirks. “If even a seed of an idea of hurting my wife formed in anyone’s head, I would smash said head open with my bare hands like it’s a fucking watermelon,” I spit out. “Next, I would take out their sick brain and squeeze it so hard the only thing left would be mush.”