Mom waves her knife in the air nonchalantly. “Oh, you know. Life is life. We do what we can.”
If that isn’t unsettlingly ominous, I don't know what is.
“What’s going on here? Why are you all acting so strange?”
“Told you in the car,” Renzo answers vaguely.
“You told me the Russians think we killed Biba. That’s it.” I round the island and take the knife from my mother. “Let me do this before you slice off a finger.”
“What do you mean? I’m fine. This is how I always chop peppers.” Despite her argument, she acquiesces and shifts to cleaning up the flour dust. “It’s not like this is the first time things have been dangerous in this family, but I wish it wasn’t happening when the baby is coming.”
Shae rubs her rounded belly. Despite being nearly full-term, she’s not all that big around. I suppose it’s all that jujitsu. She has better abs than any woman I’ve ever known.
“That just means it’s even more fitting for you to stay with us. I know we’ll need the help.”
My brows furrow. “Mom’s staying with you guys?”
“Just for the time being,” Shae explains. “Until things calm down.”
“I don’t want her to be alone right now,” Renzo adds.
I still my slicing and look from him to Mom, back to him, then let my eyes travel to DiAngelo, who is still sitting silently in the corner of the room, watching our conversation unfold. If Renzo had wanted me to stay with them as well, wouldn’t he have already mentioned it? Definitely. He doesn’t beat around the bush. So if he thinks it’s dangerous, and we need protection, but I’m not staying with them, that means his plan to keep me safe is…
“What is DiAngelo doing here?” I blurt.
Renzo sighs, then closes the distance between us. “It’s just temporary, okay? He’s going to shadow you, that’s all.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” DiAngelo cuts in, his deep voice filling the room with authority. Everyone stills. Even the boiling water on the stove seems to settle to a quiet simmer. “You don’t leave your place without me beside you.”
His words spark my body to heat in places it shouldn’t. That is, until their full meaning settles in, and deathly chill takes hold.
I’ve been assigned a bodyguard. Someone to stand in the way of danger to protect me with their life. Maybe another woman might be relieved or even honored, but those are the furthest emotions from my mind. All I feel right now is dread.
My eyes survey the giant man who dwarfs my mother’s kitchen chair—from the disheveled brown curls on his head to his chiseled jaw and down the corded muscles of his arms that make the tattoos on his skin dance when he moves. He’s too beautiful for his own good. He’s also a tank.
I’m tall for a woman. Five-foot-eight.
He’s got to be six-five if he’s an inch.
But that’s somehow only a fraction of the story. DiAngelo’s gargantuan presence has everything to do with the air of power he exudes without so much as saying a word. He’s the man your eyes are drawn to in a crowded bar not because he’s the loudest or the tallest but because a primordial part of your brain tells you he’s the most dangerous predator in the room.
Silent.
Calculating.
Ruthless.
All the best qualities for a Made Man, yet none of them mean anything when up against a bullet. He’s precisely the type who would sacrifice himself to keep me alive.
I would rather kill myself than let that happen.
And I’m sure the grumpy brute will be a bastion of understanding and patience about my perspective. Of course, that’s why the rest of them are walking on eggshells. They think I’ll refuse.
I should.
But I doubt any of them will let me. It’s a fact I’ve had to come to terms with since deciding years ago to stay close to myfamily rather than distance myself, as my older sister, Bria, did. She told us when she and her husband moved away that it was purely about job opportunities, but I know there was more to the decision. They wanted a different life. Something rural and quiet.
