He gives a tired lift of the eyebrow. “Apparently not.”
My fists curl tight. He isn’t even going totryto defend himself? “I should have killed you long ago.”
He gives a small, humorless laugh. “You know, if I had a dollar for every time you said that, I’d be running this town. Find a new song, Sandro.”
My tight shoulders slump. I hate how neatly Jacopo can pop the balloon of my anger, take the wind from my furious sails, even while insulting me. I also know what he’s very carefullynotsaying: that none of this current mess is his fault.
It’s mine.
“What did you overhear?” I jerk my head toward where we last saw Teddy’s mother.
“The Barbarian wants to leave. I get the feeling they didn’t run their attendance tonight past their federal betters. But I have to say—” he sounds almost admiring “—Teddy has some big old conkers on him, if he reallyisa plant. I didn’t know he had it in him. Always seemed like such a shy little thing. Shy—but sly.”
“If?” I’m caught on that one word. “Youdon’tthink he’s passing information to his mother?”
Jacopo tips his head to one side as he considers the triptych again. “Better from that angle,” he mutters. “As for Teddy and his mom, what do I know? Never had one of my own. Do you pass info on toyourmother?”
No. I keep secrets from my mother, or try to, anyway. But Teddy, younger than I am, and still living there at home with a loveless mother that he desperately wisheswouldlove him…
I make a noise of frustration that makes Jacopo’s eyes slide sideways toward me. Iwon’tallow myself to pity that two-faced little rat.
I just need to get him out of my mind.
“Come with me.”
Jacopo follows without hesitation. “Where are we going?”
“I need to kill someone or fuck someone.”
“I’ll pass on both options, thanks all the same.”
“I need your skills too much to kill you yet, and as for the other…” I glance at him over my shoulder. “You arenotmy type.”
I lead him through the kitchens, ignoring the shouts of the chef as we make our way to the back door.
“Let me tell the boys to meet us—” Jacopo begins.
“No. Just you.”
We push out the back door into the alley. Jacopo grabs me by the shoulder as I keep walking, pulling me around to face him. “Listen, I’m a practically-married man, and I’m not looking to ice anyone tonight, either. So—”
“I’m not interested in what you want, Jacopo. You can sit in the corner and read the newspaper if you like, butIintend to fuck my way through North Hollywood until I run out of cash.”
I don’t know why I said that. I certainly don’t mean it. But I’m going crazy right now, reality whirling around me in a tornado.
And Jacopo’s wince only makes things worse. “Jesus, Sandro.”
I slap his hand off my shoulder. “Don’t fucking speak to me like that. You’re the reason I have to pay for my pleasures these days.”
Coldness comes back into his eyes. I prefer it that way. I don’t like the time-shifting sense of closeness I get when I’m near Jacopo, the way I can slide back into that feeling of camaraderie.
Ofbrotherhood.
His voice, when he speaks, is harsh and unfriendly. “I’m not the one who cut your face open, Castellani.”
“You were the catalyst.”
“I was saving your life.” He’s getting louder.
