Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“I don’t give a shit what you think you’re doing,” he snaps at me and steps closer. “You need to shut this down right now.”
About six different men get in the cop’s face, driving him back as shouting erupts. I look around frantically until I spot Simon coming over. I wave him down and his men let him through, but when he questions the cops, he gets the same bullshit response.
“You’ve got five minutes to make that band stop playing or we’re calling in backup and closing this whole parade down.” The officer backs away toward his cars and doesn’t seem to give a shit what Simon has to say.
My brother is livid. He’s practically glowing with rage. “Somebody’s fucking with us,” he says softly, his teeth clenched together. “And we all know who it is.”
A murmur runs through the gathered men. Santoro. Like the whisper of waves over stones. Santoro. The boogeyman. And maybe they’re right, maybe Santoro did call this in just to mess with us, but I don’t know. This feels more personal.
Finally, Brody pushes his way through the crowd. He takes my arm and steers me away from the gathering, pulling me free and sitting me down on a nearby stoop. “Let me handle it,” he says.
“Those cops out there aren’t going to care what you have to say.”
He grunts in response and takes out his phone. “I’m not going to talk to them.” He makes a call and wanders away just far enough that I can’t hear what he’s saying.
But his face tells me everything. He’s as angry as my brother, but he’s holding it all inside. Simon and Brody are similar, except Simon is more expressive, which is honestly a minor miracle. Brody hides his emotions, he keeps them shoved down deep inside like he’s some kind of walking robot. I might not even know he has any feelings at all except I’ve seen the passion and right now there’s a hint of murder in his eyes.
“Give it five minutes,” he says, sitting down next to me. His thigh presses against mine. “They’ll be gone.”
“Who was that?”
“Just a guy.” He glances at me, not smiling. “This is why you married me, remember? For my contacts in the force.”
I smile slightly and lean closer to him. “I thought I was marrying you for your good looks.”
“That too. But mostly my contacts.” He puts an arm around my shoulder and hugs me close. I’m surprised, but I don’t mind. The night’s been getting cool and he’s big and warm, and I like the way he smells, spicy and musky with a hint of sandalwood and mint.
“I feel like I’ve barely seen you tonight.” I make a face. “I can’t decide if that’s a bad thing.”
“We’ve been busy. You know how it goes. Everyone wants a piece of the Don.” He’s staring off toward the cops and there’s a strange undercurrent to that comment, a little bitterness I haven’t heard before now.
“Is that hard?” I ask, following my gut on this. “All the people that want things from you?”
“Sometimes,” he admits and his voice is very quiet. “But that’s my job. It’s how my father was, and it’s how I’ll be.”
His father, the Don before him. I know better than most people how complicated fathers can be. “Were you close with your dad?”
“As close as I could have been. He wasn’t a warm man, but he wasn’t a hard one either. There wasn’t a lot of love and kindness, but he took care of his people.”
“That must’ve been hard when you were little.”
He shakes his head. “I got used to it.”
I want to ask for more, but I get the feeling he doesn’t want to go on, and I’m usually pretty good at reading people. I let the subject drop. “Looks like something’s happening.”
The cops are on their radios listening to someone very intently. Even from this distance, I watch as the big lead officer’s face goes pale and he has a very stressed-looking conversation with his fellows. Once that’s done, they don’t even bother saying anything to Simon and his men, they just get back into their cruisers, turn off their lights, and drive off.
“I had a feeling that was going to happen,” Brody says and slowly climbs to his feet. I’m tempted to ask him to stay and talk a little longer. For the first time since we met, I feel like I’m getting somewhere with him and I’m actually enjoying his company.
“I guess it’s time to mingle some more,” I say, and he squints off toward where Simon’s having an animated conversation with Davide. They’re probably making battle plans already, even though Davide’s not fully healed and definitely not ready to get in more trouble.
“You’re probably right.” But instead of walking off, Brody turns to me, his head tilted. “You look good tonight.”