Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
I opened my mouth to thank him, but something entirely different came out. “When I said before that I thought you were mad at me, you didn’t deny it.”
He tilted his head to the side, studying me. “It’s been a busy time. Everyone’s under a lot of stress.”
“I get that. But you just did it again. You switched topics.”
He shook his head ruefully. “You remind me of a teacher I had in middle school. Mrs. Parker. She never let me get away with non-answers, either.” He looked away, exhaling loudly. “I may have been… a bit out of sorts.”
“A bit?” I scoffed.
“Maybe a little more than a bit.” His blue eyes locked in on my face. “I was jealous.”
That was the last thing I expected him to say. “Of the inheritance?”
“Of your relationship with my friends. You seem to be moving forward with Rock and Slater, but going nowhere with me.”
I stared at him, not sure what to say.
“You look like a deer caught in headlights,” he observed. “I’m not accusing you of anything—just stating facts.”
“It’s not a fact,” I said slowly. “It’s just how things worked out.”
“Things didn’t work out very well for us in Rock’s apartment,” he said.
“Because it was Rock’s apartment,” I emphasized. “This is all new to me. You think I regularly go around falling for three different men at once? It feels wrong but it also feels right, somehow. I don’t even understand it myself, but I know that it only can feel right if there are some boundaries. If no one gets hurt. And getting frisky in Rocco’s living room felt wrong.”
“Getting frisky?” he mocked, and I smiled a little. It was a rather prissy phrase. Then his expression turned serious. “Do you mean it?”
“About boundaries?”
“About falling for three men at once.”
I nodded. “I never expected to—but then again, a hell of a lot of unexpected things have been happening lately.”
“That’s for damn sure,” he said. “You’re sure you haven’t been trying to freeze me out?”
An impish thought took hold. “If you come closer, I’ll prove it to you.”
He grinned and immediately slid toward me, his knee lightly touching mine. “Can I kiss you, Maggie?”
I leaned in close, my gaze on his full mouth. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“If you’ll climb in bed and fool around with me for a while afterwards.”
He flashed me a grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”
27
SLATER
“We’ve got Roselli by the balls now.”
Rocco couldn’t hide his excitement.
Holding that pack of papers, he was in high spirits that morning while he and I were on our way to the meeting with Don Gambini. In his mind, we were one step closer to the approval we desperately needed. One step closer to a simple “go ahead” that would rid us of our joke of a Don and mark the end of his reign.
Most importantly, it would mean getting Maggie out of his crosshairs.
That was, if it worked, and I wasn’t so sure.
Rocco seemed to be forgetting something basic about mob bosses.
Their crews could shoot at each other to their heart’s content. They could have one, two, or a half-dozen casualties at a time, but no mob boss would lose any sleep over that. This was the nature of our job and the perils that came with it. Was any Don going to mourn those losses? Shed tears for a loyal member of his crew?
Hell, no.
Their next move was always this: Hiring more men.
Nobody is irreplaceable. Everybody is expendable.
But for the Dons, things were different. They didn’t order hits on each other. There was a balance across the city. Everyone knew what they should be doing and where. For instance, Hell’s Kitchen was Gambini’s turf. He could sell guns and push coke to any interested parties. Most of Brooklyn belonged to Roselli. He could lend money and sell methamphetamine to all the desperate souls out there, and take advantage of junkies’ need for a hit.
So, by taking out a Don, that balance would be disrupted. There would be confusion, in which players would stake their claim to the affected areas. For a while at least, there would be a lot of unrest and a lot of shooting.
Public shooting to be exact.
That was the entire organization’s worst nightmare.
Bullets flying all over the place in broad daylight, in front of dozens or even hundreds of people. Witnesses could give bosses a headache. None of us could control what they told the cops. Mob dealings should always remain secret. Dons hated the notion of being exposed. Even a simple deal like a gun trade should never be disclosed. If that happened, they had to tie up loose ends by killing everyone involved. They didn’t mind that, but they preferred doing things in the shadows. No one could see them in the dark.
Regardless of all that, my attention was split that morning. Part of it was on Maggie.