Yours in Black Lace by Mia Zachary

look up at him. The humor in his amber-green eyes had been replaced by something else, something more. His melodic voice held a deep emotion when he spoke.
    “Thank you.”
    His mouth descended on hers in a kiss that was unexpectedly tender. His lips glided over hers like a whispered promise, giving and asking nothing in return. She drank in the sweetness of his kiss, and felt the warm glow of happiness spreading through her heart. He held her closer for a tight hug and then stepped back.
    Emelio playfully planted a smooch on her nose before moving toward the refrigerator. “How about I fix us another breakfast.”
    She glanced up at the wisps of smoke still hanging in the air. “How about we get dressed and go out to eat?”
    “That’s not really a good idea.” He pulled the eggs out again and chose a steak from the freezer.
    Stevie’s forehead furrowed. “Why not? We’re perfectly safe here in Naples.”
    “Rule number one of ‘real’ investigative work. Never assume that you’re safe anywhere.” He set the food down and looked over at her. “I talked to Alex a few minutes ago. He sent Jason and Rick over to your apartment to investigate. There were several hang-ups on your answering machine and the building super said some guy was looking for you last night.”
    She closed her eyes briefly, clenching her stomach as she slowly exhaled.
    “Somebody called the office this morning, too, asking to speak to either one of us. They refused to give Tiffnee a name or say what they wanted. Braga’s sending people out to find us, Stevie, so we’re not going to take any chances.”
    She curled her hand into a fist, her fingernails digging into the palm as the familiar anxiety skipped along her nerves. She couldn’t stay locked up in the house. She couldn’t. Stevie tried to hide her dread behind a show of bravado.
    “You really think Braga is going to walk up to us at a sidewalk café? Maybe he’ll jump out from behind a clothing rack in one of the shops.”
    He crossed his arms over his broad chest, an uncompromising look in his eyes. “I’m not willing to risk your life—”
    “You said yourself that you never bring anyone here. You called this house ‘José’s place’ so I assume it’s in your other name. There’s no way Braga could track us down. So don’t tell me I can’t go out!” She knew she was being unreasonable, but another part of her, the part she’d paid dearly to save, protested vehemently against the idea of confinement.
    Emelio’s tone became as carefully expressionless as his features. “I didn’t say you couldn’t go. I’m just strongly recommending against it.”
    “Don’t do that.” She spoke from between clenched jaws as resentment coiled inside her, escalating her temper from annoyed to incensed.
    “I realize this is frustrating and you don’t have any experience—”
    “Don’t goddamn do that!” It was happening again. Her life was being controlled again. She stared at him through hooded eyes, shaking with impotent rage. “I hate that overly logical condescending tone, like I’m some recalcitrant child.”
    Emelio remained where he stood, as if he thought a sudden approach would really set her off, and yet she sensed him reaching out to her. “Tell me what this is really about.”
    Verbalizing it would reveal how weak, how helpless and pathetic she used to be. In her nightmares, she still saw that house, the old rambling Victorian in Faubourg Marigny where she’d been trapped, suffocating in the confines of her fear. She had been too young, too damaged to know how to get free, certain that she deserved what she got.
    She didn’t want Emelio to know. Then again, maybe if she explained, he’d understand why she wouldn’t tolerate taking orders or being restricted. Stevie pressed a hand against her stomach. “I couldn’t go anywhere—I had to ask. Whenever I did go out, Tom had me followed….”
    His hazel eyes softened in understanding, but she turned away