“That’ll be all,” I tell her as she sashays her way out of my office.
I trace my tongue across my front teeth with a grin. Some days I hate my jobs. Correction—make thatjobs. But today… today is not one of those days. Despite the fact my schedule is a mess of overseas phone calls and meetings with people who are just trying to get my money simply because I have it, not to mention my dad pretending he’s still a part of the El Paso deal.
But the coffee is right, and the view is pretty damn good too.
I will admit, though, that my mind is making the rounds. While my focus last night was on getting her off, feeling her wet, nakedbody gyrate on top of mine and nearly getting me off just from the friction, my brain was definitely lingering somewhere else.
I don’t love that her little sister is seeing men hanging around. Because, as much as I brushed it off as paranoia to Amara, I wouldn’t doubt if Tristan had eyes everywhere.
But I don’t want her worrying about that. Amara is a spitfire. A mama bear to the kids she’s had to raise that aren’t even her own children. Not only that: she’s carrying my child. God only knows what she’d do if she thought they were in danger.
Which is why I am going to casually and quietly get guys out there to shut down whoever is watching Bella and Gianni and Eliza. Because at this point, they’re my family too.
Ty ne trakhayesh’sya s sem’yey.
You don’t fuck with family.
But there is still one loose piece roaming the chessboard. One that I can’t see and therefore can’t predict. And that is never okay with me.
I pull out my phone and hit Maverick’s number.
“What’s up, boss?” he answers on the first ring. Though I can hear the clanging of metal as he grunts. He’s head down in a car engine.
“I need help finding a guy.”
“What kind of guy?” he grunts.
“One that’s been seeing Amara’s best friend,” I tell him.
“You mean the one who always uses her tits to pay for drinks?” he asks with a grin in his tone.
“Yeah.” I clench my jaw. “That one.”
“I thought you didn’t like that chick,” he says with another crank of metal.
“I don’t.”
“Then why bother? Chances are she’s already moved on to her next lowlife. These kinds of things weed themselves out.”
I wipe my hand over my mouth and shove up from my seat. Then I turn and face the window overlooking the city. “The thing is… she’s been with this one for a while now. All Amara knows about him is he’s got money and likes to use it to keep her on the hook.”
“What’s he look like? I’ll have one of the boys wait for him after a date. I’m sure we can run him off if it’ll put Amara at ease.”
“Don’t know. Amara says he’s a ghost.”
“Hmm.” I hear a beer bottle twist open. “Name?”
“Sean,” I answer.
“Last name? Come on, brother, I’ve been cranking on a carburetor for the past two hours. The last thing I feel like doing right now is pulling teeth to get answers about a guy you want me to put on New York City’s missing persons wall.”
“If I knew his last name, I’d already be washing my hands,” I growl. “But I don’t. And I don’t have time to go looking for him either. I want?—”
My phone starts to buzz. I pull it away from my ear.
Jenica is calling.
Fuck. I want to ignore it, but I’ve been married to her long enough to know that it’s less of a pain in the ass not to.
