Vik (Shot Callers 2)

“Uh, rude.” I threw my sweaty towel at her, and she caught it, but the second she realized what it was, she let out a disgusted noise and flung it away. It landed softly on the floor.

“Not wrong though,” she muttered, still repulsed, wiping her hands down the length of her jeans.

I shook my head at her, walking around to the fridge and bringing out a carton of apple juice. When I drank from the carton, Cora’s expression turned miffed. “What if I wanted some?”

So, I took the apple juice in my mouth and made a show of dribbling it back into the carton before shaking it up and handing it to her. “Go for it.”

Cora’s brows rose at the challenge. “You think I won’t do it?”

“I know you won’t do it.”

She snatched the carton from my hand, narrowed her eyes on me, and said, “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

She wouldn’t do it.

But she lifted the carton to her lips.

She wouldn’t do it.

Then tipped it back.

Oh my God, she was doing it.

She took a huge gulp, and I let out a slow, disbelieving, “Ewww.”

“See?” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and attempted to smile, but her lips were crooked. “No pro—”

I didn’t see the gag coming, but when it hit, I barked out a laugh and rushed forward to her as she bent over the sink and gagged once more. “Are you okay?”

She made a face and wheezed out, “That was really gross. Don’t tell anyone I did that.”

My heart warmed as I realized Cora looked at my house as a safe haven. It made sense though. She lived here for a while, and it was good. We rarely fought, but when we did, it was normally over something stupid, like “Did you eat my muffin?” or “Hey, that’s my sweater.”

As time went on, I had to acknowledge that although I had no sisters by blood, I had three I’d chosen. Cora was one of them.

Snuffling out a laugh, I poured the remainder of the juice down the sink, and asked, “Spoken to Alessio?”

The sour expression she wore told me she hadn’t.

Her brow furrowed as she drew out the word, “Nooo. I call, and he doesn’t answer. I text, and he doesn’t respond.” Her face screwed up. “I was so desperate that I did the whole ‘Hey, sexy,’ and then sent him another text immediately after that saying ‘Oops, wrong person. Sorry.’”

Oh, wow. Pulling out the big guns. “And he didn’t bite?”

She leaned back against the counter, looking as miserable as I’d ever seen her. “Not even a nibble. What a psycho.”

God, he was stubborn. What was it about these men? Ask them to shoot a guy and they’d barely hesitate. Ask them to admit their feelings, and they suddenly no hablo inglés.

If we were going hard, we needed backup. “You know, we might have to get Mina to help out on this one.”

Cora sighed, then moped, “Seriously? That’s where we’re at? We’ve got to bring a third person into this?” She turned and dropped her head onto the counter with a thud. What she said next came out muffled. “Why can’t I just like a guy who likes me back? One who wants to give me two in the pink and one in the stink? Is that so much to ask?”

Lord above. She needed Jesus.

I stroked her hair and cooed, “He will. He’s just scared because you’re little and full of spunk, and he’s all doom and gloom. The two of you together are gonna be like a match in a gas tank.” I tugged at a silken strand of her blonde locks. “Explosive.”

She lifted her head and pursed her lips. “You think so?”

“I know so,” I declared, gathering her hair in my hands and pulling it off her shoulders, playing with the thick mane in the way I always had. “Let’s go talk to Mina. After that, we’re going to La Perla.” I grinned deviously. “And on the way home… a detour, I think.”

Three hours of shopping and multiple purchases later, a plan had been hatched, and while Mina wasn’t exactly happy about the part I asked her to play, she admitted that her brother was being obstinate and needed a gentle shove in order to get him moving.

“He’s going to be mad.” Mina fidgeted in the back seat, practically moaning in distress as we pulled up to the house.

As if Alessio could ever stay mad at his baby sister. He adored her. She was sunlight on the tombstone where he lay. In many ways, her mere presence had brought him back to life. Alessio Scarfo was a shell of a man until Mina wormed her way into his heart, and there she stayed.

“He won’t be mad,” I muttered indifferently but quietly added, “at you.”