Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Yet.
Chapter Seven
Carlo
Gio sits at an outdoor table at Angelo’s with two coffee mugs in front of him. He stands when I get out of the car, his eyes darting to the gun holster across my chest and up and down the street.
The idiot ought to know if I was going to whack him, I wouldn’t do it in front of Angelo’s, the outfit’s hangout.
Gio licks his lips. “Hey, boss.”
I give him a slight nod and slide into the seat across from him. “This for me?” I palm the ceramic mug.
He sits back down. “Yeah. Three shots of espresso. The way you like it.”
I don’t touch the drink. Poison isn’t really the way of La Famiglia, but I wouldn’t rule it out. “Appreciate it. So listen, Gio. Who was that guy you brought last night?”
Gio spreads his hands. “Listen, Carlo. I’m sorry. I thought it was okay to bring someone, but obviously, I shoulda checked with you first. I fucked up. I’m sorry.” His words sound rehearsed.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Confusion wrinkles his face. “The guy? He goes to my gym. We were talking one day, and he mentions how he likes to go to Vegas for high-roller games. I thought he’d be a good addition. I’m sorry.”
I relax although I don’t let Gio see it. His story sounds true. Still, I’m going to sweat him for being a coglione. “The guy looked like a cop to me.”
“A cop?” Gio’s look of confusion turns to one of alarm. He holds his palms out as if to ward away my anger. “Oh hey, I didn’t know anything about that. He told me he works in real estate. Some kinda developer, I think. I thought he had money. Thought he’d be good for the game. But if he’s a cop…” Gio’s eyes take on a slightly crazed look, desperation mixing with ruthlessness. “I’ll take care of him, Carlo. It’s my mistake, I’ll do it.”
I give a sharp shake of my head. “You’ll do nothing. First of all, we don’t kill cops. Second, I’ll handle it. Capisce? You’ll do nothing.”
“Are you sure? Because—”
“What did I say?”
Gio backs down immediately at my tone. “I got it, boss. I do nothing.”
“And yeah, you don’t bring a guest without checking with me first. In the future.”
Gio exhales as if he wasn’t sure he had a future. “I’m really sorry, Carlo.”
I nod. “I know. We’re cool.”
Surprise flits across his face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But cristo, get your head out of your ass. Men at the gym are not your friends.”
Gio bobs his head. “Right, right. I’m sorry. I fucked up. Big time.”
I push to my feet.
“Thanks, Carlo. I appreciate your, uh, understanding.”
I let that one go without acknowledgement, walking to my car and getting in. One question answered. Now to ID the cop and find out what he wants.
Summer
After I shower and dress, I call Maggie to come over and visit while I pack.
“We went to Toronto’s last night.” Maggie names the bar-lounge where our friends often go to listen to live bands and hang out. I haven’t been there much since I broke up with John because it took a lot of getting psyched up in case he was there. The last time I went, I spent three hours picking out the perfect outfit and primping only to show up to a totally dead night with none of our friends there.
“Did John go?” I don’t why I ask–more habit than anything. A pattern of thinking I haven’t been able to break. Looping thoughts—I can’t seem to stop. I have to say, though, that familiar locking in my chest when I bring him up isn’t there this time. Something’s changed.
I know exactly why.
It has everything to do with my beautiful Italian lover.
Maggie purses her lips. “Actually yes.” I wait for her to say more, but she walks to the kitchen to help herself to a glass of water.
“And?” Jesus. Why am I still picking this scab?
“What do you want to hear, Summer?” She sounds exasperated.
“I know. I don’t even care. I don’t know why I’m asking.”
“Are you sure you don’t care? Here you are, getting packed for your sex therapy with a totally hot guy, who you claim you just had the world’s best sex with, and you’re asking about John?”
I feel slightly nauseous. She’s right. I hate how wounded I was by him. It’s not even about him–it’s about my own feelings of self-worth. Somehow, they got tied up with him.
“I definitely don’t care.”
“I don’t think you’re over him. So maybe you’d better put the brakes on the new relationship before you screw things up.”
The knot in my stomach twists tighter. Maggie’s wrong. But even if she were right, I sure as hell am not going to give up this thing with Carlo. Still, I suspect she’s hiding something, and that’s why she doesn’t like me asking. “Was he with someone?”