Butterface

Gina threw her bowling ball down the waxed alley. Oh, some people rolled their balls—not Gina. The hot pink ball landed with a thunk a few feet in front of her and did its drunken wobble down the alley toward the pins that were not shaking in fear. The ball smacked into five of them, knocking them over. It was pretty close to her high roll of the game. She did a little shimmy dance move, threw her arms in the air, and turned to face her brothers and Ford at the table with a smile that lit up her whole face.

Maybe there was some asshole out there who could look at her and not return her grin. Ford was a dickhead, but he couldn’t stop the ends of his lips from curling upward. Her no-good brothers did the same.

“I told you this was going to be my game,” she said, seemingly forgetting that she had a second turn in this frame and making her way back to their table. “And you guys thought I was crazy for insisting Ford join us for our monthly game. He’s my lucky charm.”

The look Paul cut at Ford behind his sister’s back would be enough to kill a weaker man. For all Ford knew, that was the loan shark’s favored glare when it came to collecting past-due debts.

“That may be so,” Rocco said from his spot in the booth overlooking the lanes. “But you have another turn.”

She swiped her mug off the table and took a quick drink. “Having the game of my life really worked up a thirst.”

Then she took off back to the bowling ball return.

“This Friday’s a go,” Paul said in a low voice to his brother.

“You sure?” Rocco asked.

Paul nodded.

“What’s on Friday?” Ford asked, his attention caught by the date they were talking about.

“None of your fucking business,” Paul retorted.

Ford shrugged and took a drink. He could have pushed more. The Luca brothers were in it up to their necks, and all he needed was for them to get comfortable enough with him over beer and bowling to make a couple of slips.

Sure, as he told his boss, the likelihood of that actually happening was about as good as a vegan voluntarily eating at a Brazilian steakhouse, but if there was even a chance he was taking it. After all, he was in it to win the war against the Espositos, taking the entire organization down, not just win the battle of the Luca brothers. But judging by the men’s body language and fuck-you stare in his direction, he wasn’t going to get anywhere with a direct attack. He’d just take this intel back to the task force and let Kapowski run it by his informant for more detail. He could take another run at the brothers if needed after that. Until then, he’d do what he could to protect Gina from any fallout that may rain down on her because of her brothers.

At least that’s what he was telling himself as he ignored his targets and zeroed his attention onto the way Gina filled out her jeans, to the point that he didn’t see Paul move at all, let alone with enough time to dodge the man’s palm before he smacked it against the back of Ford’s head. The other man hadn’t used a lot of force, just enough to send his message.

“Gina might like you, Hartigan,” Rocco said, his attention focused on his sister and his body language deceptively relaxed. “But don’t think I won’t smack that look off your face, cop or not.”

“What look?” Ford asked, as if he had any hope of selling that level of bullshit.

Paul glared at him. “The one that says you are having particular thoughts about her.”

All true, but it wasn’t like he was creeping on her. Gina liked him. He liked her. It wasn’t like anything could happen between them. Not really. There might be fun, but that was it. He was an investigator. She was a Luca. It didn’t get any simpler than that, which was part of the appeal. Letting go and living in the moment with her wasn’t a problem because there’d never be any more to it than that. Still, the way her brothers treated her as if she wasn’t able to take care of herself rankled.

“She is her own woman,” he said before adding more quietly, “and she doesn’t seem to mind my thoughts.”

Rocco snorted his obvious disagreement. “She also thinks she’s having a great game and that the three of us aren’t throwing it.”