Lil rolls her eyes and steals some of my bacon while I swallow a few pills with a gulp of coffee from the mug that says, ‘Probably Whiskey.’
“Netflix on the couch?”she asks.
“Yep. I don’t think I’m going to be up for much today. Or at least not for a couple of hours. I hit that building pretty hard last night.” I like to try out new recipes on the weekends, but it’s not happening today.
Lil walks into the pantry and comes out a minute later, her arms filled with bags of chips and boxes of cookies. “Let’s go see what we can find to watch.”
I grab our coffee cups. “There’s so much shit we need to catch up on.”
We both know we’re going to restartSchitt’s CreekorThe Witcherfor the fifteenth time.
Chapter 9
Glorified babysitter
Luca
“You want me to be their babysitter?” I don’t mean for it to come out as a snarl, but it does. While following Ariana around like a lovesick puppy dog sounds like a dream job, it’s not exactly what I thought I would be doing here. It’s probably better than memorizing the strawberry shake code shit I thought existed for a few minutes, though.
Marco sighs. “Security detail. Not babysitter. You’re not in charge of them. You’re keeping them safe from threats. Everywhere they go, you go.”
“Why?” Marco gives me that ‘you’re an idiot’ look across his big ass desk. “Okay, I know why. But why now? Why me? For how long?” It’s not that I think it’s a bad idea. My hand clenches at the memory of seeing Ariana bleeding. They should have had someone with them already.
“So shit like last night doesn’t happen again. I’ve let the girls convince me they don’t need someone on their ass every time they leave this house for too long. Clearly, doing things the way we’redoing them now isn’t good enough.” He’s surprisingly calm, given the subject matter. Or maybe he’s just really good at schooling his features.
It’s got to be that. His poker face game is strong. I should practice that shit. Because right now, I’m imagining myself being glued to Ariana’s ass and fighting a hard-on. Fuck.Her dad is right there, dude.
Marco continues. “For how long? Until I say stop. And why you? They need backup, not a bodyguard. They’ve had that before, and they don’t handle it well. I’m still surprised Sully survived it and stuck around afterward. I offered that dipshit a full retirement, and he turned it down.” He shakes his head with a hint of a smile on his face.
“That’s so very encouraging,” I grumble.
His face hardens. “You’re here to learn? To find a place in my crew? Maybe your place in the DeVille family?”
An exasperated huff slips out. “I’m here because there was no fucking way I was picking the other option, Marco.”
He rests his elbows on his desk and steeples his fingers. “You want out?”
“Not if out means Mom’s way.”
“It could mean whatever the fuck you want it to. A new name, a fresh start. Fuck, a new face if you want.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What the hell is wrong with my face?”
“It frowns too damn much. That’s not the point, asshole. You could go anywhere and be anyone. No trace, no trail, simply gone.” He kind of throws his hands up, like he’s tossing flour in the air or something. He’s letting down his wall with me, and it’s kind of unnerving. Flashes of memories play out in my head. Dad and Marco playing catch with me, teaching me how to fish, skipping rocks on the lake…
I mentally shake my head. “How?”
“Do you know what we do here, Luca?”
“Honestly? No, not really. You run shit, but I don’t know exactly what that means.”
“It means we keep people as safe as we can. We track what guns are moving in and out of the area. Same with most drugs. We try to keep it pure because trying to keep it out is impossible. If tainted shit shows up on the streets, we find it and eliminate the source. We run most of the strip clubs, sex clubs, and brothels on both sides of the legal system, so safety isn’t something people working there have to fucking worry about. And if we get a whiff of something that smells even a little bit like human trafficking, we shut that shit down.” He sits back in his chair. “Twenty-two years ago, we eradicated the old regime and the old ways. If some dickhead ends up in the shed, it’s because they hurt someone, not because they owe money. Don’t get me wrong, we get our fucking money, but we have different methods.”
“When you say ‘we eradicated,’ who do you mean?”
“Me, Ford, your dad, and a few others. Men we could trust to stick to the new ways. There are other crews, and they each run their own area, but they all answer to me.”
“Shit.” I lean forward and put my elbows on my knees, taking it all in. “Is it legitimately the mafia?”
