“I could say the same about you.”
“Who travels around with a ring like that?”
One who had a weekend away planned out.
Avoiding the question, I asked, “What the hell’s going on, Dagger?”
“It’s a party?—”
“Not talking about that. What’s with the attitude coming from Wolfe? You’d think we were the fucking Italians the way you’ve treated us.”
In my world, there was no worse sin than being Italian.
Dagger, smart man, knew it too. He cringed. “Not your problem. Nature of the business.”
“Just tell me. How can we fix what we didn’t know we fucking broke?”
“Red’s made its way down here.”
Suddenly exhausted, I rubbed my eyes. “Say no more.”
He winced. “Yeah.”
“Fucking drug.”
“Sounds like regret, Valentini. Didn’t think I’d hear that from you. We make guns. You make drugs. Someone ends up dead. It’s what people do.”
“Doesn’t mean we have to like it.”
Dagger’s nod was solemn. “Wolfe’s on edge.”
“Why?”
“You know how hard it is to keep a bunch of reprobates off a drug that keeps them hard the whole night through when they’re surrounded by free pussy?”
I conceded that with a grimace. “Maybe I should apologize.”
“Don’t bother.” Dagger snorted. “We gonna have problems with the Irish?”
“Not if you don’t say anything about them being here.”
He scratched his chin. “This a shotgun wedding or something?”
“I wish.”
That had him cackling. “Like that, huh?”
“Like that.”
Respect gleamed in his eyes. “Any news on the plane?”
“Maybe. I’ll let you know if the repairs pan out.”
“Lucifer will be upset you didn’t get to enjoy the party she’s hosting for you,” Dagger mused. “You’re welcome to partake.”
“It’s fine. I have enough trouble indoors,” I told him dryly.
“Don’t envy you with two sisters-in-law like that.” He whistled between his teeth. “Got my hands full with one girl and there are four dads and three Old Men to keep her busy.”
