Shielded Wrongs (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 4)

I wanted Ivory; at least with her we could bond over the chaos of my mother’s kitchen when we left.

Drawing in a deep breath, I paused before opening the front door. The sounds of my nieces and nephew playing in the living room already burst through, and it was all I could do to suppress the desire to go play with them. If I knew my mom, I knew that my brothers’ wives Joy and Nina would already be trapped in the kitchen and looking to escape the whirlwind that was Dalisay Hicks.

The kitchen would be a disaster, completely derailed by her desperation to make every one of our favorite dishes in one meal, like she didn’t get the opportunity to feed us every week.

I hated the mess she made. I couldn't handle the lack of organization in her kitchen, even in the best of circumstances. But when she cooked?

I wanted to run in the opposite direction or pick up a sponge. But all she wanted was for me to slice mango for the ensalada or shave ice for the halo-halo or whatever last-minute task she had that didn't require me to do any actual cooking.

It wasn't that I couldn't. I fed myself just fine.

It was that while I loved Filipino flavors when I was eating them, I couldn't cook them to save my life.

The door flung open as my niece Lily panted at me from the other side. "Grandma said you were lurking out here," she said with a giggle, snatching up my hand and dragging me into the hectic living room, where my father and brothers monitored all the kids and made sure they didn't break anything.

Namely, my father's precious flat screen.

"Sadie Anne, get your butt in here!" the she-devil called, summoning me to my pit of eternal torment. Why couldn’t I just lounge in the living room and watch whatever sport they’d chosen?

Because I had a vagina.

Despite the lack of balls swinging between my legs, I'd never really been one of the girls. As much as I loved to put on a dress and heels and go dancing, I had far more in common with my brothers than with their wives, even though I adored them.

“Coming, Mama!” I called back, leaning down to touch a brief kiss to my father's cheek and pinching my youngest niece, Penny, on her cheek where she lounged in his lap.

"Good luck," my brother Lucas sneered, looking positively gleeful from his spot on the couch. The youngest of us all, he was the only one of my brothers who wasn't married and didn't have a wife that would scold him for tormenting me. The others snickered, reveling in my misery.

Even with the kids tearing around the living room, there was less commotion there than in the kitchen, where I knew complete and utter chaos waited.

"Here, come cut the mango," Mom ordered when I entered the kitchen of doom. She stepped away from her cutting board and wiped her hands on the towel she kept tucked into her apron.

"Let me wash my hands first," I said. Stepping to the sink, I swallowed back my anxiety at the stack of dirty dishes piled up in it. I forced a smile to my face, trying not to let any of the others see my reaction, as I squirted soap into my hands and scrubbed them together in the space that remained available to me.

It wasn't much, but it would have to do. If I touched a dish, I'd have to wash my hands all over again.

I counted to five, then did it five more times as I scrubbed, humming a tune to hide the serious task of timing my handwashing. I rinsed, turning around with a smile on my face and ignoring the damp dish towel hanging on the rack next to the sink. Two paper towels did the job in a more sanitary manner. I ignored the slightly knowing look on my mom's face when I tossed the paper towel into the garbage. I made my way back to the mango so she could occupy herself with finishing something that cooked on her massive six burner stove. Meanwhile, my sisters-in-law worked to pull the already cooked items out of the oven where they were keeping warm and plated them onto dishes.

"Happy Valentine’s Day," Joy said with a grin, greeting me as I carefully sliced the mango. I tried not to move too slowly, tried not to make it obvious that every piece had to be the same thickness, as I turned a bright smile up to her and finished with a slice.

"Happy Valentine's Day," I said back. I might not agree with her that there was something particularly happy about the day, but I wouldn't snub her either. If there was one thing my relationship with my ex had taught me, it was that a happily ever after didn't exist for people like me.

My particular brand of wild was enough to drive any man crazy. Nobody could tolerate my high energy at all hours of the day or handle the lows that came periodically. They weren't frequent, not even enough when I’d been younger for my family to pick up that they may be anything aside from the normal influxes of a hormonal teenager.

They didn’t want to deal with the fact that everything had a place, and nothing could be moved without me returning it to its designated spot. They didn't want to feel deceived because I hid it well.

As though functioning well came out of a desire to be deceptive and not just because I wanted to at least have a semblance of normalcy on the surface. I ran a boxing gym for shit's sake.

It was fortunate that germs and bacteria didn’t trigger my compulsions as much as general disorganization and clutter. Otherwise, I didn't know where I'd be. Not running my gym, that was for sure.

Men were disgusting.

The doorbell rang, and Mom's face perked up instantly as my sisters-in-law loaded the massive dining room table with all the food options. I dumped the last of the mango into the bowl with the onion, tomato, and cilantro. Giving it a thorough to

ss, I moved to the limes and sliced them in half to juice and pour over the top. The jar of shrimp paste waited next to the cutting board, and I scooped out a few heaping spoonfuls onto the top before carting it over to the table just as Duke stepped into the dining room.

"What are you doing here?" I asked in shock, leaning into him to accept his hug as the brute snagged a piece of mango out of the salad and shoved it into his mouth.

"Your mom invited me. Unlike my so-called friends, she didn't want me to be alone on Valentine's Day," he teased, his blue eyes twinkling as he took his usual seat and greeted the other women warmly.