Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“It better be, or everyone will think you’re not fit to lead,” Sammy warns.
I raise my eyebrows. “What are you saying?” I demand.
Sammy shrugs. “Nothing. Just that you’d better show you’re in charge. Make the Matrangas sorry, you know? What?”
My temper snaps. “You got a question about who’s in charge, here?” I fist Sammy’s collar.
For one electrifying moment, I think he’s going to fight back, breaking chain of command. A million thoughts run through my head—thoughts about who I’d have to get rid of to restore dominance. Who could be cowed through intimidation. Who I can depend on as an ally.
Sammy holds his hands up, leaning his head away from my bared teeth. “No, I got no question. Of course, you’re in charge. Sorry. You know what you’re doing.”
I stare into Sammy’s eyes. Interesting that tonight he was fully sober. The one night it would be important to stay on his toes.
Just how deep does my partner’s resentment toward me and Al run? Deep enough to blow up his own club? But then, it’s not really his club, is it? It’s mine. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end.
I slowly release my hold on Sammy’s collar.
“How do you think they got the bomb inside Swank, Sammy?”
Sammy doesn’t miss the insinuation, and his chest puffs out defensively. “I dunno. If you hadn’t prohibited security cameras in that room, we might already know.”
A chill ripples through me. Sounds like Sammy was already thinking about it. That was a prepared defense.
“Right.” I nod and take a step back, not taking my eyes from him. “See you in an hour.”
“Yep. An hour. I’ll be there.” He puts his car in gear and drives off, and I stand there and watch him the whole way.
Mother. Fucker.
I text the capos about the meeting and stay with Carmen until we get word the brain scan looks okay. What remains is for Al to come out of the coma, presumably when the swelling in his brain eases.
I tell Carlo to get Carmen and Summer home safely, then to meet at my place.
As I drive, my mind turns over the events, looking at it from all angles.
The bomb placement inside my club, in a private room, reeks of an inside job. It wasn’t on a vehicle chassis anyone might access. It had to have been someone who showed up for poker night, or an employee, or–my best guess–Sammy.
The Matranga’s still might be behind it. They could have a mole in the group or maybe it wasn’t them at all.
Fuck. Everything rides on me figuring it out.
Chapter Eighteen
Sophie
After almost losing Joey, waking up beside him is the best feeling in the world. He feels like…safety. My rock. Even after nearly getting killed last night, with his brother’s life on the line, he was still the one taking care of me. He’s that kind of guy.
I run my fingertips lightly over his neck and kiss his shoulder.
“Sophie.” He rolls over and leans up on his forearm. “How are you feeling, baby?”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. You have enough on your shoulders.” I’m a little queasy, but I’m getting used to that being my perpetual state. I keep crackers by the bedside table, and I’ve already eaten one to soak up the waking nausea.
“You’re what matters most to me. You showing up like that last night–” He breaks off, eyes misting.
I kiss his lips, the stubble on his unshaven jaw scraping my skin. In a flash, he has me pinned on my back, his hands manacling my wrists.
“I don’t want to lose you again,” he says.
I blink, studying the handsome planes of his face, trying to figure out what he means. “You won’t.”
I sense some kind of turmoil in him, brewing under the inscrutable mask he wears. “You’re okay with what I am, angel?”
I hesitate, then nod. “I want you in my life. In our lives,” I say, including the baby. “I…I understand what that means.”
He drops his head into the crook of my shoulder, and I hear his breath rasp in and out a few times before he lifts his head again. “I…I’d just told Al I wanted to step back when the bomb exploded.”
“Oh Joey.” He did that for me. And now stepping back is probably impossible. I want to wrap my arms around his neck, but he still has me pinned. “I don’t want to cause friction for you. I’m not going to reenact my parents’ marriage. You are what you are. I’m going to stop judging.”
He looks down at me, his expression unreadable. “I may not have a choice now. If Al can’t lead, it will fall to me.”
My baby daddy. The don of the LaTorre family.
I draw in a breath and exhale. My priorities have rearranged. Being right, standing on some moral high ground no longer feels as important as love. As having the man I love in my life. In my baby’s life.