He assaulted my girl.I reached up and touched my shirt, under the tie. The metal was hot against my skin.
“Do you have a solution for the barrels of apples and crates of fish?” I lowered my voice.
Kevin’s gaze was beginning to glaze over. He stared hard at me, trying to translate the words.
Fucking hell. I wanted to smash his face into the table. Just because we’d paused work for a funeral this afternoon didn’t mean there weren’t heaps of tasks on our plates.
“Ho, ha, right,” Kevin muttered. “The books. Yeah, mate, I got nothing right now. But I’ll scan them. First thing in the morning.”
“Do that.”
Kevin had gone to school for forensic accounting. A skill that we exploited daily. He was a piss poor fighter, but his brain was wicked sharp.
“Are we going to have to show the gross profits to our new allies?” Kevin leaned forward. Mercifully, he kept his voice low. “You know we don’t need them. Business is better than ever.”
It did suck. We’d been forced to join forces, which meant some of our business would likely be shared. To what extent, my father and the don were conversing regularly.
“Filthy Italians,” Kevin muttered, not realizing that I hadn’t answered. “They’re so fecking poor.”
“That decision is up to the boss.” I pushed to my feet. “You’ll do well to remember that.”
Kevin lifted his hands in defense. “I meant no disrespect, but come on, mate. The Morelli Family has what? Forty-five sworn men and seventy-five associates? They don’t seem eager to expand their net profit margins.”
It was true. They didn’t. Which made gaining this alliance all the stranger.
“Keep that kind of talk to yourself.” I loomed over him, and added with a hiss, “Just because they’re a smaller organization, doesn’t mean they’re less deadly.”
The damn mice had teeth. And balls. Big enough to mess with lions.
Kevin scowled but gave me a nod. He raised his glass in a salute. “Sláinte!”
I turned sharply on my heel, not liking that I’d put the rest of the pub to my back to threaten the accountant. Striding out the back door, I let the chaos of the mourning pub slough off me as the stillness of the night enveloped me.
There was a tale my mother used to read to me. It was about a lion who’d trapped a mouse. Upon a plea, the lion let it go, laughing that the tiny creature could ever help him. When a hunter caught the great beast in a net, the mouse chewed the ropes and freed the king of the jungle, cementing their friendship. That story paralleled our situation.
The Morelli family saved us by ending the street war with a rival clan. On a personal level, I owed Vincenzo Messina my life. Two debts. Now a tentative friendship.
But what the author of that little fable failed to mention was what happened afterward. What kind of world welcomed the alliance between a mouse and a predator? We were walking daily in unknown territory, and there wasn’t enough trust on either side.
That was why I spent my nights on the streets. Sliding into my car, I crept into the dark. To hunt. To watch the mice and make sure they didn’t take advantage of us. There was one mouse I had a particular interest in observing. Except, there was nothing rodent-esque about her. She had wings. And soon, I would make her sing. The anticipation of hearing those sweet songs that I would make scream from her throat sent a white-hot strike of lightening through my veins, making my dick pulse in readiness.
Chapter 10 – Gabriella
“Will you stop trying to take the drinks over there,” I snapped, stepping to intercept Maria.
My eighteen-year-old sister scowled. “It’s myjob. And! We’re slammed tonight.”
I wrenched the plastic black tray from her hands. The glasses wobbled, and a martini splashed over the rim.
“Gabby,” she moped. “They’re harmless.”
That was all she knew. Lucky her. She hadn’t seen the disgusting side of the Made Men. Right now, they were honey, sweet and attractive.
Her lip stuck out in a pout. “Have it your way. It’s not like you’ll be able to stop me serving them after tonight.”
What a vicious little traitor. Sisters were the worst. One minute, they were your best friends, but then….
“You know what?” I shoved the tray back at her. “Fine. You want to go to their table. Listen to how they plan to fuck and fight the rest of the night? It’s poker night. That means they’ll be out with whores the rest of the evening while you snooze in your frilly pink bed.”
