He shrugged as if it was no big deal. “She’s a real hottie. A former Dallas Cowboy cheerleader.”
“I don’t how you do it, but good for you.”
Enzo lifted an eyebrow. “It’s called dating. You should try it sometime, boss.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Dating is highly overrated.”
“Maybe, but getting your dick wet once in a while makes for a happy man.”
Over the years, he’d become a friend. Speaking of which. Maybe I’d call up my good buddy Joe and see if he wanted to grab a beer. It had been a long time since I’d enjoyed myself. “I think I do just fine, but thanks for the advice.”
“Just trying to help you with your grouchy syndrome.” He took a purposeful step away. If he hadn’t worked for me for so long, I’d likely punch him the face for such disrespect.
That’s what my brother, the ruthless Don of the Prince family would do.
He waved me off and headed away from the warehouse while I climbed into my Charger. What I needed at this point was a distraction, something soothing to calm the irritation. Maybe he was right in that I needed a night of passion.
That’s all it ever was. I’d learned my lesson about women the hard way. Caring was a weakness. Their presence was weakness, not only in body and spirit, but also as a target to every enemy.
Before heading out, I turned on the satellite radio, flipping to my favorite heavy metal station and turning up the volume. Maybe I’d take the slow ride home. Or I should say the rough roads. I yanked out my sunglasses, donning the shades and pressing down on the accelerator.
Windows down. Music loud. A certain cure to the burdensome fury.
As I drove through the city streets, I thought about the last few months. They’d been grueling. Enough that I hadn’t taken a day off since the shit with the Russo family had occurred. An Italian family who’d dared cross us. They’d learned the hard way just how powerful we were. Now we owned them.
Managing their territory had become my full-time job. The Italian Don was experiencing his last days on Earth, still acting as if he didn’t owe us for rescuing his ass from the Bratva.
The Italians had only recently become our allies.
Not by choice.
Now, by marriage, my brother to the Don’s illegitimate daughter. The poor girl hadn’t known what she’d gotten herself into when agreeing to love and cherish Alexander.
I picked up speed as I tapped my fingers across the steering wheel, the sounds of the band Disturbed exactly what was needed.
Their brutal beat and unforgiving lyrics had a calming effect.
What the hell. It was a nice day, certainly less humid than usual. Why not drive with the windows down?
Making a turn, I headed toward Woldenberg Park, a location I used to frequent from time to time, the waterfront views relaxing. It was a shortcut to our main warehouse, which would allow me to rid myself of my companion much sooner. Damn it. He’d likely gotten blood all over the trunk’s interior. I’d just had the car cleaned the day before.
Still grousing, I made another turn, now parallel to the park’s sixteen acres.
With the overhanging trees, the light level was low, but a flash and a wild blur of activity caught my attention. My reactions were instantaneous, slamming on the brakes, the tires skidding as the powerful engine slowed to a crawl.
But not slowly enough, an unmistakable thud and loud yelp overpowering the music.
Then a high-pitched feminine scream the second the car rolled to a stop. Yanking off my sunglasses, it took me a few seconds to realize I’d hit an animal.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Without hesitation, I threw open the door and jumped onto the pavement. A woman was crouched on the street with her back to me, gasping for breath. I could barely see what I’d run into.
Only when she lifted her head did I realize a dog was lying on the street. Her face was scrunched, her chest heaving. And I certainly didn’t expect what she’d do.
She flew at me with such intense fury I was completely shocked. Her tiny fists pounded on my chest.
“How fucking dare you. You hurt my baby! You hurt my son.”
