He coughed. "Not my style."

"So what then?"

He leaned against the wall, pulling her carefully to him. His forehead kissed hers. His lips followed. "You're kind of feral. And this is pretty damn domestic."

"True."

"So how does it work?"

"You do have cold feet."

His chest tightened all over. "No way."

"So? What?"

"When the adrenaline wears off, where's that leave us?"

"Hopefully in bed." She laughed.

She joked, but he knew that was sugarcoated, at least for the foreseeable future. "Say it in Spanish."

"Esperemos que en la cama."

Every. Single. Time. Sucking both his lips into his mouth, Rocco focused on flirting without taking it anywhere. "Tell me something else."

"Ests loco."

His hands dropped to her waist. "Calling me names?"

"Maybe."

He wanted to take her to his room, make her his in their bed. Make their bed. His breath hitched, practically panting for wanting her and scared like all hell that he'd get close in too fast and scare her. The erection between his legs wasn't helping at all. Sadness floated in her eyes, and she had to be thinking a variation of the same thing. "I'm in love with you, Caterina. You need to know that."

She nodded.

"So whatever it is that you need. Waiting or talking or-"

"Killing."

His eyes sank shut. The chance of her finding revenge against El Mateperros was nil. "Whatever it is, we'll get through it."

"Okay." She was so sad. It stabbed right into his heart.

His phone buzzed with a text message, stopping the conversation, which was good because he had no idea where to take it. A quick look at the text made the moment even worse. Assignment up. Get to HQ.

He brought her to the States, brought her home, and now had to leave her with all the baggage and no one to help. He'd be lucky if she was still here when he came back.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN.

Caterina's first night in Rocco's house and she'd spent all alone. One text message and he was gone. It was expected. She'd known this came with his job, and now she was surrounded by all-American normalcy.

Until he came back, she had his house, his truck, and strict instructions not to mess with his DVR. But he didn't say anything about his Frosted Flakes, and she was on a second bowl and completing the children's maze on the back of the mini milk box when the doorbell rang. Looking more like a kid in a giant's clothes, she slid across the kitchen floor in his oversized socks, which matched his oversized shirt and shorts. They smelled like him and swallowed her whole, making her smile every time she thought about him.

Cautiously, she peeked through the peep hole. A blonde stood there, hands on hips, with lips and boobs that had more than a little bit of enhancement. That couldn't be the ex-girlfriend. Could it? Three deadbolts and a security system that took more than few button pushes, and she had the thing disengaged and the door thrown open.

"Hi-"

"You have got to be kidding me." Blondie's chin jutted out. "Who. Are. You."

A living, breathing Barbie doll was about to get a face full of fist. "I'm Cat."

"I bet you are."

That particular American phrase wasn't lost on her. It roughly translated to I hate you, bitch. "Rocco's not here."

"His truck's here."

"Right." Maybe Barbie didn't have a lot upstairs. "But, like I said, he's not."

"Let me guess. One of his super-secret, I-can't-tell-you-anything work outings. Classic."

"Work outings?" Outings didn't do justice to all the shoot 'em up, knock 'em down that Rocco did. Nothing in that word that said he'd give his life trying to do some good in the world.

"Yeah." She eyed Cat's oversized pajamas. "But I didn't expect him to-"

"Be very careful about what comes out of your mouth next. I'm more than familiar with his outings because we work in the same industry. That makes me very, very adept at shutting your mouth for you."

Barbie's mouth dropped. "You think he's so into you. Well, he was going to marry me, and that wasn't that long ago."

Cat lifted her hand. The Locke's wedding band was still in place because she'd forgotten to take it off. She wiggled her fingers. Not that she was really married to Rocco. Not that it was a good idea to pretend she was. It just happened. "Go. Away."

Barbie's mouth fell again, hanging open much longer. "No, he didn't."

True. No he didn't, but Cat was keeping that to herself. "You need to leave."

"I have stuff here."

"It's gone." Rocco had said that his ex might've left a toothbrush. A toothbrush she could handle, but not tall, blonde and perky going through his house and claiming items. "I'll tell him you stopped by."

Barbie smirked. "He's not that great of a catch. His stupid job always comes first. You're all alone, waiting, talking to me, and it's because he's out there where there's a ton more of you, wherever you came from-"

"Classy." Wow, did that sound familiar-something else always coming first.

"You're nothing compared to his job."

"Adios." Nudging the door closed with her Rocco-sock-covered foot, she waved her left hand, flashing the ring again.

Barbie's words stung, not because Cat believed them but because that was the attitude she'd pulled since day one with Rocco. He could never compete with El Mateperros. Everything else she wanted was secondary. After the Dog Killer died at her hand... how did that reshuffle her priorities? Caterina peeked through the peephole and watched the woman shake her ass as she left. Blondie McGee had choked matrimony down Rocco's throat. Maybe Cat's disinterest in everything other than a certain terrorist was her selling point.

She was safe. Holy freakin' matrimony wasn't her number one priority, but what if she wanted it to be... And where had that thought come from?

Rocco had been gone for days, but someone didn't know that. The cell phone he'd left her rang constantly. Ringing and ringing and ringing-driving her absolutely bonkers. Probably Busty Blonde Barbie. It wasn't her business who was calling, but for sanity's sake, she was about to answer and tell them to trust the voice mail. It would do the dang job.

It rang again, the same number that been calling for days. This time she was done. "Hello?"

"It's about time you picked up the phone." The woman's annoyed voice sounded familiar, but Cat couldn't place it. "Christ, I was thinking about getting worried."

What? "Who is this?"

"Seriously?"

"What? Yes. Seriously."

The woman huffed. "This is Sugar."

"Oh. Explains so much." Cat rolled her eyes.

"He doesn't have me programmed in?"

"Guess not."

Sugar scoffed in her ear. "Just me, or in general, he doesn't have people programmed in?"

"I don't know, Sugar, I haven't gone through his phone."

"Wait, what? Seriously? What's wrong with you?"

Caterina didn't have an answer for any of those borderline rude questions. "Um-"

"Whatever, answer the phone from now on. How else am I supposed to get a hold of you?"

Me? "Why? Everything is okay?"

"Hell, nothing's ever okay, but there's nothing to complain about at the moment. Get dressed. We're heading your way."

"What-" Caterina pinched the back of her neck. "We, who?"

"The girls. We're headed to dinner at Mia's, and you're coming. Like it or not."

"Why?" Not that she didn't want to make friends, but was Sugar friend-making material? Cat didn't know her, didn't exactly trust her.

"Why not? Mia cooks crazy awesome. We're all very curious about you."

Cat laughed. At least Sugar was honest. A bitch. But an honest one. "Curious?"

Knock, knock.

"Well, when I said on our way, I meant pulling into the driveway. Open up, Senorita."

Caterina closed her eyes. It was the first time that she'd smiled in quite a while. She pocketed the phone and went to the door. Her hand stayed on the locks longer than it needed to, as if she were considering turning out the lights and ignoring what was certain to be a carpet-bombing of phone calls. But she turned each lock, disengaged the security system, and was greeted by everything a woman named Sugar might look like, except with dark, almost black hair. Sugar's stiletto boots, in-your-face boobs, and badass attitude made Caterina like her just a bit.

"Well, come on in." But Sugar was already strolling by. Three ladies followed, all apologetic smiles and pleasant hellos. The four of them formed a little semi-circle around her, and Caterina wanted to feel uneasy about them but didn't.

"You're pretty damn cute." Sugar assessed her from messy bun to flip-flops and back.

"Glad you think so." She did the same once-over on Sugar. Leather pants and a shirt that left nothing to the imagination. She turned to other women. "I'm Cat."

Sugar pointed and ticked them off. "Nicola. Beth. Sarah."

Cat smiled, recognizing two of the names. "You're all married to someone with Titan?"

Sugar, again, pointed at each. "Yes. One day. Sort of."

A blonde with an easy going smile and no problem rolling her eyes at Sugar stepped forward. "Sorry we're barging in. It was our understanding that you knew we were coming. I'm Nicola Garrison. This is my friend Beth, who isn't anywhere close to 'one day,' and Sarah is married to Brock. Sugar just likes to be a pain in the ass."

"Oh." Cat sucked in her bottom lip. Rocco had given her the ten-second story on how he had Brock's old job, Brock and Jared had gone to war, but now Brock was picking up the reins of whoever was Delta. The details on that were sketchy at best. Rocco had also told her the Sarah didn't want Brock working ops and had even left him for a while.

Sarah waved her hand. "I know what you're thinking. Don't. Brock and I are handling this fine."

Sugar walked toward the kitchen. "I'm getting a bottle of water. Go change, and then you can tell us all about Rocco in bed. Curious minds want to know."

Her mouth dropped open. "What?" Her cheeks had to be neon pink. Nicola and Sarah shook their heads; Beth's jaw hung open just like hers. They all apologized for Sugar, but the more Caterina interacted with Sugar, the more she liked her, even though the lady drove her batty.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT.

Their mission had been grueling-into Mexico to rescue a woman from a cartel thug-but it was done, and Rocco was ready to come home. He about jumped onto the plane and volunteered to fly the thing home, all so he could see Caterina. Finally, it all made sense, all the time Winters and Cash and Jared ran back toward domestic tranquility. Well, as tranquil as anything could be with their particular brand of one-and-only.

As soon as he had a second, he called Caterina and was ten degrees past shocked when she was at Mia's after Sugar had scooped her up. Mia was doing a big feast, not out of the ordinary, and he'd never wanted to get over there so much in his life. Now, with Roman and Cash by his side, Rocco walked through the Winters's garage and into their kitchen. Parker, Winters, and Jared brought up the rear.

The room smelled like lasagna, and familiar voices filtered in. Mia cooked a helluva meal whenever they were coming in hot from a job. It had become some sort of a tradition: bust ass then eat until they popped.

The ladies were all there. He heard them in the living room and scanned for Cat. Winters's daughter Clara ran into the kitchen, hooking herself onto his leg, and he grabbed her, tossing her into the air.

Clara giggled and screamed, kicking short little legs in the air. "You stink, daddy!"