“Fine with me,” he deadpans, too into his espresso bullshit to pay me any more mind.
“Oh, and Cairo…” He pulls his concentration and directs it to me. “I don’t want to hear any shit about how loud she screams when?—”
He peels his shirt up his ribs, revealing a black Glock residing in the waistband of his jeans. “Shut the fuck up, Torin.”
I smile.
He doesn’t.
I have no problem being quiet.
But she will.
THIRTY
bay
Dirtand grime plaster to the pads of my fingertips as I wipe the driver’s side rim of Levi’s Malibu clean.
Since I decided to go ape-shit and run Matteo down—possibly causing more collateral damage than intended—I’m keeping his pride and joy in tip-top shape until he comes back.
Whenever the hell that’s supposed to be.
Sitting on the concrete, it reminds me of being in a similar atmosphere with Dad. Working on cars, polishing, waxing, and talking shit with his tunes on.
The good ol’ days.
Now, he’s gone, I’m alone, Ellie and Mae are quiet in the house, and it does nothing to remind me all is not well in Kansas.
It’s desolate and void of any excitement and laughter.
Even Mae is feeling the full effect of Levi’s so-called death and without Dad here…it leaves me.
And I’m barely holding on by a thread.
Levi might still be with us, but I’m currently carrying another predicament in my stomach right now.
Another liability.
As shitty as it sounds, it’s true. Especially in this world with men who want to steal and rise to power.
This Titan shit needs to be eliminated.
However, it does bring a multitude of income to the citizens here. Last night, The Nameless gathered up over a hundred kilos of weed, and I just gaped at Dino like he was high off the shit.
There is so much I don’t know about how South Shore works and all the small moves that aren’t so tiny in the grand scheme of things.
“Miss Astor.”
Craning my neck toward the head of the garage, Shorty is standing there stoically with his arms drawn behind his back, staring at the blank wall.
There are no tools in here, nothing of Dad’s is set up properly. It’s here, but it’s everywhere, and I probably should get it together to give myself something else to do.
“I told you to stop calling me that,” I lightly chide. “It’s just Bay.”
“It’s protocol, ma’am.”
“Okay, that’s worse.”
