“Not really sure how that’s my fault,” I muttered. “You say I’m a ‘presence’ in your life, but I don’t see it. What ‘presence’ I have is so goddamn small I feel more like your stalker than your childhood friend.”
“I don’t imagine there’s much of a difference,” he said with a snort.
“What?”
“Nothing. But you’re making my point for me. You barely have a presence in my life, and that’s already been enough to make me start slipping. Suddenly, I’m not operating the same way as before. Suddenly I’m worrying about you, what’s going on in your head, and what you think and feel rather than doing my goddamn job properly.”
I looked away, not sure how to feel about that accusation. It didn’t feel like anything I said or did should have mattered much to him. He’d been living his life just fine without me, and he’d clearly been doing well at whatever...accountant stuff he’d been doing. I hadn’t been lying when I’d told him that Augustine wasn’t the sort to waste time and energy, especially on trying to make someone feel better about themselves. If he had that job, as important as it probably was, then he’d earned that job and had been good at it.
Not that it surprised me, Levi had never done anything without throwing every inch of himself into it. He didn’t do anything half-assed. It was a fucking shame that it had to be criminal, but fuck, that was where he had ended up. And if he was doing well, that didn’t happen because Augustine went easy on him.
So, again, we came back to...what was this person before me? And why was he suddenly caring so much about what I thought?—
“What the fuck is that?” I asked as I watched him bend to set the glass down, and the shoulder of his shirt slipped slightly, revealing a bandage.
“What is what?” he asked as he straightened, eyes going wide when I got close to him. For a moment, he flinched, and I wondered how many people he’d let get close enough to touch him.
“Oh, you can cram that shit up your ass, I’ve seen you naked, I’ve beeninyou while naked,” I said, grabbing the collar of his shirt and jerking it aside with a growl. “What the fuck is that?”
“It’s called a bandage,” he said, pulling his shoulder away from me and...did he just slap my hand? “Quit grabbing at it, it’s still tender.”
“Is this from the bullshit that happened yesterday?” I demanded.
“Bullshit?”
“Yeah, the explosion at the warehouse downtown.”
“I see someone keeps up on the news, but that was a gas leak last I heard.”
“The fuck it was! Or are you trying to say gas explosions happen around you all the time?”
“A lot of gas explosions happen around The Family. Among other accidents.”
I sat on that for a second. “Please tell me you didn’t blow that warehouse up and pay to have it covered up as a gas leak.”
“No,” he said, taking his glass over to the cabinet, pouring himself another heavy drink. “Los Muertos blew it up with explosives they apparently had with them when they came to meet me. A meeting where, as I said, I attempted to get them to leave my city and stop terrorizing its people. It seems their idea of a polite refusal is to set off bombs. I then made sure any reports on the explosion would paint it as an accident rather than the work of gang fighting.”
“Seriously?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around that. I mean, sure, that was absolutely something a crime lord would do, but at the same time, this was...Levi. I’d watched him cry at his mother’s funeral, I’d held him at night for weeks afterward so he wouldn’t go to sleep thinking he was alone. Now he was...bribing cops?
“My work in Cresson Point is centered around three key points. One being to regain control of the region for The Family, that much should be obvious,” he said, and I raised a brow when he swallowed the entire drink in a single gulp. Watching his throat bob while he did it was distracting and a slightly disturbing realization. “Secondly, it is to make sure I do not draw the heat that is still burning in Portland down here to my doorstep. And third, I want to achieve both of those things while at least maintaining, if not increasing, stability within the city. The last thing anyone needs is for the people of this city to think there’s a gang war between The Family and Los Muertos.”
“Yeah, sure, because that’s not what’s happening or anything.”
“Yes,” he said slowly as if I was the one being slow. “But when that happens, people get incredibly nervous. And when they get nervous and worried, they do things they normally wouldn’t. Look, part of it is that I don’t want to create unnecessary stress if it can be avoided. The other is that that sort of attention is exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid.”
“How practical of you.”
“I also don’t want people to be worried.”
“How nice of you.”
“Dom.”
“What?”
“If you’re going to be an ass, feel free to leave.”
I threw up my hands. “Look, I don’t even know what I’m doing here in the first place. You seem not to want me around, you didn’t even want to tell me about you getting hurt, and it’s obvious that even if you hate your job, you’re going to keep doing it.”
