Salvatore's POV
The air smelled of rain and sex, a familiar, grounding mixture.
Tammy was beneath me, her breathing hitching, her nails digging into my shoulders.
I moved with a rhythm that required little thought, a physical release that I pursued with the same mechanical efficiency I applied to a tactical entry.
It was easier than thinking.
Easier than the surveillance photos sitting on my desk downtown.
Easier than the image of Valdina standing on that street corner with eyes like a hawk.
My phone, resting on the nightstand, vibrated against the wood with a harsh, jarring buzz.
It cut through the haze of the moment, a singular, demanding pulse that shattered the rhythm.
Tammy stiffened beneath me, her breath catching in her throat as the sound echoed in the quiet room.
I ignored the loss of friction and the instinct to keep moving, shifting my weight to one side to grab the device.
