“You’re not going to be any good to me for a while yet anyway.” It doesn’t feel great to tell him that, but his reaction isn’t offended or even discouraged. No. Colby’s not that kind of man. He sits even straighter and sends me anI dare youlook. The sudden, urgent need to lean in and taste all that defiance is so fucking annoying. I need to keep talking before I do anything I’ll regret. The words just sort of tumble out of me. “Make a list of everything you need. Mac is here every day since Duffy’s here, so he or Rory can help get you anything. Once you’re out of here you’re going to do what you’re good at, and get me the information I need so I can do whatI’mgood at.”
I’m turning away before I’m even done, but his voice stops me.
“When will we?—”
“When you can outrun me,” I interrupt him, risking one more look at his all-too-expressive face, then I walk outbriskly and shut the door behind me. I hear his muttered response before it closes, though.
“Fat chance of that ever happening.”
I suppose it’s normal that Mac and Rory are staring at me like the world is surely about to end. I probably look like I just went through a tornado.
“What’s wrong with you?” Rory demands.
“Nothing,” I tell her and control my fucking face. “You figure out what he wants from his place, and as soon as he and Duffy get discharged you bring everyone to the house. I don’t want the Italians to have a chance of getting a good look at him again.”
“We saw Di Leo get out before we got him,” Mac says unnecessarily. “He’s going to know what he looks like.”
“I’m well aware,” I deadpan. “He’s going to suspect we took Colby, and that he works for us, but he won’t know for sure, so you make sure every one of our men knows to steer fucking clear of that warehouse, and make sure no one sees Colby when Doc discharges him. Have a talk with the nurses too.”
Mac looks sufficiently chastised over making me repeat myself, so with that, I walk away and out of the clinic.
Blake’s waiting in the car when I open the back door and slide in. Now that Duffy’s awake, Mac isn’t trying to tear his skin off, so Blake is no longer on babysitting duty and he’sback to being with me all day—with some exceptions, like when I go visit my cousin and his family. Only Bran goes with me to the Crawfords’.
“Where to, Boss?”
“Take me to the garage on Second Street, we’ll grab my car and go see Bran.”
My gut is telling me that a normal conversation with my son is the only thing that’s going to stop me from demanding we go right back to the clinic.
There are so many reasons why I need to keep my distance, and the second biggest one is that when Duffy wakes up he’s going to groan and moan for hours over how I knocked him out.
It was the only way to have a rational conversation with Colby, though, since Duffy made himself right at home in his room. And of course I got the syringe with the right dose from a nurse who made sure it wouldn’t harm Duffy in any real way. In fact, he should be thanking me for the great sleep he’s getting.
That reminds me, I should’ve told Rory to get Duffy back to his own room, but I honestly forgot.
I take my phone from my coat pocket and look at the black screen for several seconds, debating back and forth with myself. If I text Rory now, she’s going to know I’m overanalyzing, and she can sniff out my thoughts betterthan I can most days. I really don’t feel like sitting through an interrogation over dinner whenever she comes back home, so for the sake of my peace of mind, I put my phone away and watch the world go by out the window.
“I knowyou didn’t really come here to ask me about my classes, no matter how many questions you ask about my intellectual property paper,” Bran says, half an hour after I came into his apartment.
“I want to hear about your life,” I defend myself—weakly.
“I know you do, Dad, but something is obviously going on and I don’t know if I should be worried or not, so just spit it out.”
I don’t want him to worry. Hell, this is why I’ve?—
“What would you say if I started seeing someone?” That’s not what I wanted to fucking say. “No, forget it. It’s just—” Fuck, I hate not being able to speak clearly. “Things with the Italians are about to heat up again.”
Bran wasn’t alive when we went to war against the Marianos—hell, I was just a knobby little shithead—or when I took out the Taccones, but although I’ve never put him in the middle of family business, I’ve never hidden our history for him, specifically his mother’s story.
He was only five years old when I knew it was time I explained to him why Rory is the way she is—that he would understand. I didn’t want him to think his mom didn’t love him or treasure him just because she isn’t like other moms. If Rory lovesanyone, it’s Bran.
It takes him a second—and I don’t blame him, since I’m not in the business of asking anyone for permission to do anything—but when his mouth snaps shut, and he shakes his head with his eyes closed as if he’s getting rid of unnecessary thoughts, I have to resist a groan because I know he’s not going to let that little slip-up go.
“You know I don’t give a shit about the Italians, and that as soon as things heat up, I’ll just go pick up Nan and we’ll take a trip until things die down.”
“I know that,” I mumble, looking away to the moderately nice view outside his ten-story window. Bran has always been a good kid. He’s never—not once—complained when I had him shipped out of the city, for months on end sometimes. It hasn’t happened a lot, just two or three times, and I really hope this war will wait for the holidays so he doesn’t miss any important classes. If it doesn’t, then I’m going to have to ask Harry to make a few calls so his professors give him some leeway.
He’sstillsuch a good kid, that he wouldn’t let me get him a bigger apartment, closer to the park, with a better view or in a better building. He wanted something more normal...
