Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
And, today, us.
“It’s kinda off the main roads,” I said, reaching for my door, cringing a bit as I slid out of the SUV.
All the sex had been great. Fucking fantastic. But the aftermath was making me sore.
The same could be said of my wrist, which I was choosing to ignore.
There was a familiarity as I looked up at the building.
How many times had I walked through the bustling crowds, welcomed by the scent of tomato sauce and basil and garlic, to have a meeting outside?
Dozens?
Hundreds?
I couldn’t be sure.
But Tony was against the use of cell phones for anything having to do with business. Understandably. So if you got a call from an unknown number—someone’s burner, surely—you knew it meant to come to the restaurant to talk to the boss.
“Ready?” Huck asked, already eyeing one of the guards, situated near the front door in a suit, despite the sweltering heat.
I remember asking them how the fuck they did it on the worst days of the summer. Apparently, cold patches and sometimes under-shirt fans.
I liked my dressier clothes as much as the next mafia member, but I went for slack shorts and short-sleeved button-down shirts these days.
“Yeah. Let’s get this over with,” I said, following Huck with the other guys going behind me.
We weren’t in danger.
It was the middle of the day.
There were customers.
That was why I’d agreed to the meeting.
The mafia wasn’t always the organization it used to be, but Tony’s Family never fucked with innocents.
I got me a wife and kids too, y’know? Don’t want no motherfuckers fucking with them, so I don’t fuck with no motherfucker’s kids neither.
That was Tony.
A moral criminal, if you would.
The inside hadn’t seen too much of an update since I was last inside. The brick was exposed, so there was nothing to look different there. But it did seem like someone had convinced Tony to forego the traditional white tablecloths he’d always had before, allowing the nice wood of the bare tables to create the ambiance.
All the faces were different, save for one of the bartenders. He’d been ancient when I’d been working for the Family, so who the fuck knew how old he was now, though he hardly looked any different.
The man stationed at the back door nodded his head to me, then reached to open the back door to let us out onto the patio.
There were several wrought iron tables around, the centers having a metal piece that lifted out, so you could slip a wine bucket inside if you needed it.
But the biggest table sat at the back, facing the restaurant windows and doors.
And at the end of it was Tony himself, looking about the same as always. Maybe he had a little more gray at his temples. But that was about it.
“Donny boy,” he greeted, holding out his arms, but not rising from his chair.
Traditional greeting meant I had to go to him, lean in for a shoulder-slapping hug. Sometimes, there was a kiss to the cheeks. It depended on his mood.
“Tony, how have you been?” I asked, trying not to wince too much as I bent forward to greet him.
“Good good. Better than you, it seems,” he said, sharp eyes not missing the wincing, all the gauze, and the cast.
“Tony, this is Huck. He’s my president,” I explained. “And Che, McCoy, Seeley,” I said, waving around. We’d brought Cato with us, but he’d taken his own car, and was parked down the street in case of any kind of trouble. It was always good to have a card up your sleeve.
“Of course, yeah. I’ve heard of you boys,” he said, shaking Huck’s hand, then waving to the seats. “And you know my boys,” Tony said, waving toward the men behind him.
“No shit,” I said, jolting back a bit. Because I did know of his boys, but the last I’d seen them, they’d been kind of gangly in their late adolescence.
But these were men now.
Tall and fit with the good looks that mostly came from their stupidly gorgeous mother. Black hair, slightly olive skin. One had dark eyes, the other had his mother’s blue.
“Don’t you have three?” I asked, and watched a darkness come over Tony’s face as his jaw tightened.
“He’s… on vacation,” Tony said, biting out the words.
On vacation.
Locked up.
Fuck, he was young to be catching a charge. But… that was the life.
“Hopefully, he will be home soon,” I said carefully.
“Yeah, us too. So, the fuck is going on with you?” he asked, nodding toward my hand.
“That’s kind of what we are here to figure out,” I told him.
“Me? You suspect me?” he asked, tone incredulous as he tapped a hand to his chest. “You fucking serious?”
“We are just looking at all possible avenues,” Huck said, tone even. “I don’t know much about you and your organization, and I forced Donovan to do a meeting.”