Doesn’t he realize how close he’s coming to getting mob-rushed and beaten up on by my brother and the guys? José can’t do much. He’s on crutches.
I cross my arms. “You will not touch him.” I look from my brother to the guys in the room. “He visited my father in prison and has his permission to see me.”
I hold back my smile of satisfaction when the guys’ eyes widen and Ty’s tense body relaxes.
“Bobby has new information on Carlos’s murder. He was there and went to see the detectives to give them what he has. So please, sit, eat, and listen.” I sweep out my arms. “Let’s help Bobby help the detectives solve Carlos’s murder. We all want closure.”
The guys grumble and give Bobby the death glare, but they sit. Having to feed fifteen-plus hungry guys, José caters Sunday brunch. Food gets set on the table, and we serve ourselves in silence. Bobby is next to me. Slate is seated on his side, and Gage is on my left. José and Ty are across from us.
We eat in silence. The guys eye us. I shamelessly wipe a piece of egg off Bobby’s beard. He’s growing out his facial hair after I wondered out loud what it would feel like to be kissed by a bearded mafia dom on my mouth and down there.
“I’ll give you bratva,” he said, having listened to a steamy part of an audiobook in my car when his truck was getting serviced. I smile. This guy of mine.
“Something funny?” Ty’s fork is in midair. There’s a piece of sausage on it.
Bobby speaks before I can tell Ty to stuff the sausage where the sun doesn’t shine. “Do you know your sis has a talent with napkins?”
Ty shoves back his chair and smacks his palms on the table. “Bring up what you do in the bedroom to the gathering table, and I’ll fucking cut your balls out with a dull butterknife before I feed them to you.”
Bobby smirks. “I take it that’s a no. Show them, beautiful.”
“They’ll laugh,” I say near his ear.
“I’ll fucking pop them in their faces.” Bobby isn’t shy with his volume or the murderous intent in his eyes when he looks around the room.
Resigned, I sigh and grab an unused cloth napkin. Ty sits and watches me with his normal skepticism.
My heartbeat loud in my ears and my hands trembling, I shape one into a swan and another into a rose. When I did this trick at a party, the college guys rolled their eyes and laughed.
The guys around the table look at me, smiling. Their arms are crossed. Some have their heads tilted, and others are nodding. Joey has a shit-eating grin. “Mi princesa, you are one talented woman.”
I make another and another until the table is full of hearts, flowers, and swans.
Bobby straightens in his seat with his chest puffed out. “That’s my girl.” He takes my hand and drops a kiss on the back of it. Rather than squeeze my eyes shut and hope and pray that they won’t harm Bobby, I stare down the guys until they avert their gazes.
Yeah, bring it. No one hurts my man.
José, being the more welcoming party, is equally eager as I am for closure. He asks Bobby for specifics.
“What did the detectives say? Why the fuck didn’t they call me as soon as they had something new on the case?”
“They would’ve, but they’re working short. I offered to fill you in.”
José’s eyes narrow. “How do we know you’re being truthful?”
Bobby shrugs. “You don’t. You’ll have to trust me.”
“I trust him,” I say. “Bobby and Carlos were friends.”
“What the fuck?”
“No fucking way?”
“He shitted on Red Dahlia on social media. Said the music was crap and no one should be caught dancing in a classless club in a shitty part of town.”
Ty’s words rise above the others’ disbelief.
“Tell them what you told me,” I say to Bobby. I didn’t believe him either when he told me.
