“You okay with what happened tonight?” I ask him. The guy has been fighting his feelings for Andie for most of our lives. And tonight, he finally let go of those old walls he erected when it came to her. Fucking the same chick isn’t new for us. He and I have shared women before, but those women weren’t Andie. They didn’t matter like she does. There were no feelings involved. It was just emotionless sex to help stave off an inch.
Keane slowly takes a swallow while eyeing me. “Areyouokay with everything that happened?”
He’s referring to the marriage. Getting serious, I put the bottle down and face him. “As long as you know I’m not giving her up. Not even for you, brother. If you’re okay with that, then you have my blessing.”
He puffs out a breath and leans a shoulder on the wall. “Look, I know what she means to you.”
He should. He was the one to find me after she left, and I tried to drown my sorrows in a drunken and dangerous game of Russian roulette with my gun.
He continues, “Like I told her. She’s ours.”
I raise a brow. “Does that include him?”
“Fuck Liam Connelly.”
Barking out a laugh, I shake my head. “Nah, man. That’s her job.”
“It won’t work,” he argues.
“It’ll have to if you want her. Being with her means she comes with baggage in the names of Liam and Rafael. If you can’t accept those terms, you need to step away.”
Keane remains quiet as my words sink in. It’s fucked up and wrong on so many levels, but we all want her. I know what my life is like without her in it. The choice is easy. I will never find another woman who will accept the broken man I am—scars, blood, and all. She’s it for me. My beginning and my end.
Finishing my beer, I toss the bottle into the recycling. “Want to go pound the bag for a bit? I’m too wired for sleep.”
“You never sleep. Besides, you’ll pop a stitch,” he comments, still mulling over what I said.
I flip him off. Keane can be so broody. I swear, the guy is worse than a girl on her period. Besides, four hours of non-stop fucking already popped my stitches.
Letting him stew with his thoughts, I walk to the west wing to check on Enzo. Dante is handling the men keeping guard around the house. We’ll need to up our security. My girl was able to breach it without anyone noticing. Declan’s men, with help from the inside, attacked us. Max with his hubris let things go to shit. I won’t.
“He’s up,” I say when I open the door and see Enzo propped against the headboard, surfing from channel to channel with his remote. Someone must’ve already brought him food. There’s some soup and water on a tray next to the bed.
Enzo waves me over. “Doesn’t hurt a bit. Whatever the doc gave me is some good shit. Want to refresh my memory about what happened? Things are a little fuzzy.”
“You got shot,” I deadpan.
“No shit, asshole,” he grouches, turning the television off and throwing the remote at my head. It misses by a mile.
I pick the remote up and put it on the table with the food in easy reach. “Julio is pissed we haven’t handed over Andie. He decided to start a war over it.”
Enzo closes his eyes with an exhale. “He’s not getting his hands on her. What Max did was fucked up.”
Yes, it was. I hand him the glass of iced water with the bendy straw in it. He looks at it and frowns. “I’m not five.”
“Just drink it.”
Enzo is a good guy. Too good for this type of life. Why he signed up to be one of Max’s soldiers is still a mystery to me and the guys. The only thing we know about him is that his pops was one of Max’s lower associates back in the day. Enzo didn’t join our fold until several years ago when Dante came on board. The two of them have been thick as thieves ever since. Somehow, Enzo has been able to keep his hands clean. Killing isn’t his thing, as witnessed from how he lost his lunch in the cellar when we found Max and the other dead capos.
“Glad you’re okay, man. Things are about to get messy around here. We’re going after Ortiz.”
Enzo tries to move on the bed but grunts in pain at the effort. “I want in.”
“Get back on your feet first,” I tell him, already walking out of the room when Garrett saunters in, carrying a bottle of Jack and a few magazines.
“What?” he asks when I see the nudie magazine among the various ones about cars.
“You can find that shit easily online, you know.”
