Detective Harry Snow is ordered by his captain to use Tito Fontana, Harry's ex-lover, to help bring down a drug lord.
At first Tito is unwilling to have anything to do with Harry--and the feeling is mutual.
However, since they are ultimately forced to work together, the question then becomes, will they kill each other in the process or will the embers of their past love be rekindled.
Tito sighed in frustration as he watched the car punch through the light the moment it turned green. He'd screwed up his relationship with Harry so badly he knew there was no way to redeem himself. Nevertheless, it didn't stop him from thinking about the tall, dark-haired detective every day since they had gone their separate ways.
With a morose shake of his head, he continued on to the garage where his bike was getting a thorough going over. He'd dumped the Streetfighter like a rank amateur during an illegal street race and was paying for it, literally and figuratively at this point. Luckily, the tab for the repairs wasn't really a problem. The restaurant his father owned more than kept him in the style he'd become accustomed to.
The blow to his ego was another thing, especially since the man he'd been challenging was a young punk looking to make a name for himself in certain circles. There would be other races though. There always were.
"Tito," Paulie called out when he saw him come into the garage. "All set and ready to go. Adjusted the clutch a hair." He waited until Tito joined him then slung an arm around his shoulders. "Next time you face the brat, you'll leave him in the dust, if you keep your mind on the race."
"Trust me. Next time I will. Tore the hell out of my leathers."
"So you just pull another pair out of that room you call a closet."
"Siete pazzesco, il mio amico," Tito said with a chuckle.
Paulie grinned. "So quanto è con voi."
"Sì, sì. Now I'd better get a move on. What do I owe you this time?"
"An arm and a leg?" Paulie laughed, taking him into the office.
A few minutes later Tito pulled his bike onto the street, sending a thumb's up to Paulie before heading to the restaurant
. * * * *
"Siete in ritardo."
"Sì, papà." Tito tossed his jacket over the back of the chair, stripped off his chaps, rolled up his sleeves, and leaned over his father's shoulder to see what had his father grumbling now. "No," he said a moment later, "we are not letting him go. He might be an ass but he's one of the best chefs we've had in forever."
"But he upsets the waitresses."
Tito snorted. "They're only upset because he takes a different one out every weekend." Straightening again, he said, "Go home to mama. Make her happy. I can run the place tonight."
"On a Saturday?"
"Yes, papà, on a Saturday. Go, you've been working all day. You need to rest."
"You will behave?" his father asked as he stood, giving his son a warning look. "I have a choice?" Tito replied with a small smile.
His father shook his head. "When will you forget that bastardo and move on?"
Tito shrugged but didn't answer. His father scowled as he got ready to leave then patted Tito's shoulder. "Someday the right one will come along. I could wish it would be a female but I am resigned to the fact that will not be."
Again Tito shrugged as he waited for his father to leave. Then he went to the small closet, took out one of the dark suits he always wore while at the restaurant, and went to change.
By the end of the evening he was more than ready to close up and get out of there. It had been busier than normal for some reason, which was good for the bottom line but exhausting. He needed to relax and unwind. And he knew just the place to do that.
Half an hour later he was parking the Streetfighter in the lot behind his favorite club. Taking off his helmet, he set the bike's security, ran a hand through his black hair in an attempt to tame it, and headed around the building to the club's front entrance.