“That’s how he would’ve wanted it.” His light eyes descend to me. “It’s respect, ma’am.”
Right.
The currency around here.
“Can you call memissinstead? I’m not that old.”
“You’re married.”
Geezus.
“What do you want, Shorty?” I pose exasperatedly, balling my rag in my palm.
His expression buckles from impassive to clearly annoyed. “Cairo Black is trying to get down the street.”
“Down the street?” Levi wasn’t kidding when he said no one would get to me. And I would ask Shorty what he wants, but it’s neither here nor there.
It still leaves me the issue of allowing an enemy to waltz in here—in South Shore—when Levi never allowed it.
Well, until things took a turn, and I became Emilio’s daughter.
I hesitate with my answer, the one Shorty is clearly waiting for, because I don’t want to lose said respect by being a woman with emotions.
Nonetheless, Cairo is here for peace, wants it, and so do I.
If it doesn’t start with us, where does it begin?
“Escort him back to the border,” I order, slowly getting to my feet. “And I’ll meet him there.”
Shorty’s brow tightens, clearly surprised, but he does his soldier thing and straightens himself right up again. “Yes, Miss.”
He promptly turns on his heels when I see Juice stride up the driveway with a smirk and a look of happiness to see me.
Unfortunately, I can’t say the same.
They lied to me about Levi. They led me to believe he was dead. I could’ve killed myself trying to get to Matteo…and it still falls on me.
And Levi.
“Hey, Queenie,” Juice greets me, stopping within a few feet to give me a small bow. “How’s it?—”
“You bow in front of me again and I’m poppin’ you in the nuts, asshole,” I scold with a glower. “Stop it.”
“Not into chivalry, huh?” His smile doesn’t falter as he closes the rest of the space between us. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“You’re lucky I’m even speaking to you after the shit you and Hot Rod pulled.”
He frowns then. “Aw, Bay…” He reaches for me, but I bat his hand away. “Don’t be like that.”
“Iwillbe like that because I haven’t gone in on Levi yet. I’m just happy he’s still?—”
“Just followin’ orders, sweet cakes,” he states. “I’m not going to question Rod’s?—”
My face contorts. “You do it all the time.”
“Not with shit like this.” He stretches his arm to get at me again and succeeds when he pulls me into his side. “It wasn’t my proudest moment.”
“I’m never going to forgive you.”
