He widens his eyes, still messing with me. “I thought you didn’t care,” he says, faking a shocked reaction. “I mean, if you really don’t care, I think we had a little some-some going on, me and her. I could take care of that for you.”
I turn my head slowly.
Vito is grinning, like he’s proud of himself for finally getting a reaction out of me.
“You didn’t,” I say, very calmly.
Vito lifts a shoulder.
“Relax,” he says. “I’m kidding.”
I stare at him for another beat.
Then I look back at the warehouse.
Because if I keep looking at his face, I’m going to do something I’ll regret later. Something I’ve never done because of a woman.
That doesn’t mean I can’t threaten.
“If you ever talk about her like that again,” I say, voice low, “I’ll rearrange your teeth.”
Vito’s grin fades into something annoyed.
“Jesus, Nico.”
“Not joking,” I say.
A beat.
Then he clicks his tongue and leans back in his seat, like I’m the one being unreasonable when he’s joking about fucking my woman.
“Fine,” he mutters. “Touchy.”
I let it sit there.
Let him feel it.
Because this isn’t a game.
Not with her.
Not with what she means to me, even if I’m not saying that part out loud.
“You know I wouldn’t do that, so fucking relax,” he says tightly.
I do know he wouldn’t do that. Vito may joke, and make stupid ass remarks, he may be an impulsive ass, but he’s as loyal as they come. He’d saw off his own tongue before going after someone he knew I cared about.
When I don’t answer, he shifts his gaze back to the warehouse and squints.
“Still nothing,” he says.
My eyes track the fence line again, the bay door, the empty driveway.
“Good,” I say. “Let’s go.”
I open the door and get out of Vito’s car.
The heat of the sun bears down on us immediately.
