“What happened?” he nearly growls. His lip ring looks more intense in the light, and I find myself backing up a bit.
Why so angry all the time, dude?
“Well,” I start slowly. “Your niece had a bit too much wine, so I offered to drive her being a DD and all.” I grin; it doesn’t make him smile back. Hellllllll… “And…” I try again. Damn it, I’m charming. What the hell is wrong with him? “She was supposed to be ready wasn’t answering her phone, so me being me, I—”
“Annoyed her,” he answers. “Continue.”
“I think you mean saved her life by stopping by early, yelling at the men who were trying to put out the fire versus saving the princess in the castle and asking her to jump into my arms. Think Disney’s gonna write a movie about it one day? I even have a title, The Mafia Royal and his—”
“No,” Nixon says. That’s it, just no. “The village idiot and his inability to check in when I call him.”
“I don’t text and drive,” I say, honestly probably annoying him further. “But the chief is looking into it; he’ll have some answers. Until then, she’s staying here.” I move past him, only to have him grab me by the shirt and drag me back against the counter. “Ouch.”
“No.” Is it just his favorite word or what?
“Look.” I jerk away and try not to get pissed; getting pissed makes me go through my medicine faster. I’ll literally burn it all off, need more, then need more, and shit, I can’t think about it. If I do, I start to panic. “If it was arson, where’s the first place they’ll look?”
Nixon curses.
“And then they’ll go to the Capo, to Tex, putting King and everyone else in danger, followed by Phoenix, Sergio… I think you get the picture. The only boss she’s actually safe with, the only Family that actually makes sense, is the only one who wields the power of both the Sinacore’s and the Russians. That”—I put my hand on his shoulder—“as disappointed and pissed as you look—would be me.”
“Take your hand off my person.”
I pull it away, seriously tempted to pat him on the cheek then run. My fingers itch to rile him up. Instead, I offer him a shit-eating grin. “I know that you hate that I’m right, but… I’m right.”
“Don’t tell Chase,” Nixon mutters. “Guy already wants to murder you for sleeping with his daughter.”
“Had he left the tree up—”
Nixon jerks his head in my direction. “You were saying?”
“We would have saved the squirrels?” I offer lamely. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it in my pants.”
“Or course you will.” He grabs my shoulder; his fingers dig in until I know I’m going to have a five-fingered-shaped bruise. “Because if you don’t, we’ll find you a brand-new tree, really tall, and hang you from it with your intestines.”
“That’s very detailed for being so on the spot,” I mutter. “Don’t worry, I’m here to protect her. I’ve only ever wanted to protect her.”
I’m not lying.
I kept away to protect her heart.
And selfishly mine.
And until the last breath of air leaves my body—I’ll keep at it.
Until my heart stops beating.
“Good.” Nixon gives me a little shove into the kitchen. “Heard about Jenna…”
“Damn, she was the worst,” Tex, the Capo and King’s dad pop out of nowhere, looking like a lost bodybuilder sans the orange skin. Dude just keeps getting bigger and bigger with his full tats, guns strapped to his body beneath his black suit coat, and big wide smile. I’ve been told that I act like him sometimes, but I don’t see it, like at all.
“You owe me fifty.” Nixon points at him. “I said it would be this week.”
I sigh. “You guys are really good parents. I mean, seriously, I’m shedding a tear, you bet on me too?”
They just shrug, then Tex says, “Does it count that your dad and Phoenix bet a car? No?”
“Daaaaaad…” I peer over at him and Phoenix. They have this weird love-hate bro fest going on. I mean, last year, they went on a fishing trip to Alaska.
Two powerful freaky as hell mob bosses just chilling with the salmon.
Fucking weird.
They bought matching tackle boxes.
Tents.
I can’t anymore.
The wives think it’s adorable—but I stopped thinking it’s anything but creepy when they started developing the same tastes and mannerisms.
I guess it works since Phoenix knows all the secrets of the Italians, and Andrei carries all the ones from the Petrov Family, so maybe that’s why they’re so alike? They know what it’s like to live in darkness, accept it, and do everything in your power to keep it away from those you love.
I move around the table and sit next to my dad. His golden blond hair is slicked back. He’s wearing a black relaxed vintage T-shirt and black skinny jeans with red boots.