He reaches back with one hand, pulling his shirt up and off before tossing it to the floor. “Your wish is my command,” he says as he yanks off his jeans and kicks them somewhere to the side.
My mouth instantly goes dry at the sight of my naked husband. I don’t care who’s in charge at this point. All I’m thinking about is the fact that he’s staring at me like I’m prey, and I like it.
16
Angelo
“I have news.” Morgan sits down on a barstool, followed by my cousins.
I grab a few glasses and place them on top of the bar, staring at the guys as they sit in a row. “What’s the news?” I ask as I start to fill the glasses with beer, figuring whatever news he has will probably require a drink or ten.
Morgan doesn’t waste a moment and grabs the beer as soon as I set it in front of him. He guzzles half the glass, and James is giving him the side-eye, noticing Morgan’s unease. “Okay, so Quintin called me,” Morgan says as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Who’s Quintin?” James asks, turning his attention to his beer.
“We go way back. We enlisted in boot camp together, but his life took a different path from mine after serving. I reenlisted while Quintin went on a downward spiral.”
“And he’s a good source, how?” Thomas asks.
“No matter what shit went down in the last ten years, I know he’ll always have my back just as he did when we served together.”
I lean forward, tossing a towel over my shoulder, and stare Morgan straight in the eyes. “And by downward spiral, I assume you mean he got into some legal trouble?”
He nods. “A bit, but nothing major. He has his finger on the pulse of the neighborhood where our guy is supposedly hiding out.”
Joe leans forward, staring down the row of men toward Morgan. “You going to dance around the shit all day, or are you going to tell us what you’ve learned?”
“Quintin said he’s in a house and has paid local gang members to protect him.” Morgan shrugs and lifts the glass to his lips. “It just made things a little more complicated.”
“A little?” I raise an eyebrow.
“We’ve dealt with gang members our entire lives,” Morgan says, like it’s really not a big fucking deal.
I tap the bar in front of him, feeling like I need to impart some Chicago wisdom to my older, but not wiser cousin. “This isn’t the Chicago you grew up in, Morgan. Shit’s gone crazy since you left. There’s constant death and chaos on the streets.”
“Then it’s a no?” he asks before letting out a heavy sigh.
“It’s a dumbass move. We all have more money than we can spend in a lifetime, but I’m not getting my ass shot just to grab some asshole white-collar criminal with gang members surrounding him. It’s not worth it,” Mike says, making all the sense in the world. “Even if we live, Mia would fucking have my balls, bruh.”
“Anyone want in on this?” Morgan asks, looking from left to right but getting no response. “Fine. We’ll pass.”
Thomas pushes his beer mug forward and turns to Morgan. “I’ll give the information to my friends in the marshals’ office. Let them handle the shit. They have an arsenal behind them—and the law.”
“That’ll work. Then what the fuck are we going to do here for three more days?” Morgan asks like he’s in the middle of fucking nowhere.
“I don’t know. Eat, drink, fuck, and enjoy life a little bit,” I offer with a shitty smirk because there’s more to life than trying to get yourself killed.
This is where my cousins and I differ. I like the mundane. I enjoy a night at home or dinner with my family more than I care for the chase or danger. Morgan seems to crave shit that isn’t healthy, but that isn’t entirely new.
Maybe it was losing Marissa that made me realize the preciousness of life. It taught me to soak in the small moments, the times others would find boring, and revel in the calm.
“The parents have the kids busy all week. We should take advantage of the time away and the little bit of extra freedom,” Anthony says as he pushes his empty beer glass forward. “I, for one, plan to squeeze every bit of fun out of this week as possible.”
“Well, what do you want to do tonight?”
“Fuck,” Anthony hisses and pulls at his hair. “I don’t know. I feel so fucking old now.”
Joe elbows him in the ribs. “You are old, you dumb fuck.”
