“He hasn’t scheduled it yet,” she replies. “And I thought?—”
“It could be a private affair.”
She flicks her focus over to Cairo. “Why was yours like a damn prime event feature, then?”
“Because De Leon likes attention.”
She tsks and looks back at me. “So I have Ramsey on the verge of kidnapping me and a bunch of guys so we can play some fucked up Russian Roulette.”
I frown because that’s exactly how I see it going down.
She’s not safe.
Ramsey isn’t a show-off, and she’s going to die if he gets his hands on her. He needs twelve guys, six from his side and six from hers, to witness the event.
He might not shoot her point blank and call it a day, but he’ll make sure he wins—one way or another.
And he wouldn’t necessarily need to be alive to do that.
“I got you, Astor,” I hedge in between the silence. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“Matteo,” Ozzy adds on, reminding me that Torin’s older brother isn’t the only problem, as though I still needed the reminder.
“I expect you’ll handle that,” I convey, looking up at him over Bay’s head. “You can move in a wider circle than I can right now.”
He nods, which gives me some relief.
“You get caught, you’re dead.”
“I understand?—”
“Wha—No,” Bay shoots out, shoving her chair back and almost hitting Ozzy with it. She turns on him, meeting his stoic features. “This works both ways. Youdon’tgo anywhere without taking someone with you.”
“Bay,” Cairo starts, but she doesn’t listen, getting right into Ozzy’s space, and I expect him to take a step back, but he stands there looking down at her like she’s some sort of crazed maniac.
“Promise me,” she announces gruffly.
He doesn’t respond, so I force it.
“You move, you tell someone where you’re going,” I order, and that’s the only way we’re doing this. “The last thing I need is for her to start following you.”
He doesn’t pry his blue eyes off Bay but raises his palm upward to where Bay promptly pushes hers into his.
The fuck is that?
Cairo releases one of those full-body sighs before saying, “You’re gonna need to keep us in the loop, Wallace. Not some half-ass bullshit of you reigning from afar.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” I consent, as Bay comes to my side, and I take the opportunity to run my palm over her hip, meeting Cairo’s heated glower. “I’m sure you and Torin will try to fit in my shoes and waddle your way in to try to guide her. But you’ll never be South Shore. And you’ll never be me.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
bay
Avena Black isthe picturesque version of the perfect wife. She’s gentle, patient, and welcoming as she greets Ellie and Mae with Cairo’s two insanely gorgeous sisters. The stark contrast between Paisley and the now obvious reason why she never liked me in the first place.
I wasn’t her daughter, and she didn’t want me to be.
Mae and Ellie receive hugs and praises for how much they’ve been missed. I stand idly by, watching the scene unfold, soaking in the quickness of their vibe and comfortability.
