Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
And apparently, seeing his kid standing on his front porch with the neighbor’s grip a little too tight on his shoulder, and his mouth already open to bitch about Naz ... well, that was enough to make his father flip his switch in a blink.
“Your—”
That was all the man got out of his mouth before Cross reached for his wrist, flinging it off Naz at the same time he snapped, “Get your fucking hand off my kid before I rip your shoulder from its socket.”
The neighbor held his ground, not showing fear, but smart enough to know he shouldn’t put his hand back on Naz again. “Well, I guess I know where he gets his mouth from, huh?”
Noise came from within the house, but Naz couldn’t discern the sound of that when his attention was entirely caught by the sight of his father, who towered over the neighbor by a good three inches, come out of the doorway all at once, his form lining up chest to chest with the man.
And there was Naz.
All three and a half feet of him.
Staring up at the two men knowing this wasn’t good.
And all it took was the idiot opening the door with a bad expression and his hand on Cross’s son.
“What did he get from me?”
The neighbor swallowed.
The house turned quiet.
“He was throwing that ball again, and I warned him. Your kid—”
“Naz, come here.”
The arms of his godfather were quick to grab Naz from the side, drag him in behind his father, and then into the house. Although, Zeke didn’t close the door. Down the long hallway, his mother peeked her head around the corner, Catherine’s eyebrow lifting a bit as though she were wondering if she was going to have to clean blood up today.
His ma had a look for everything.
Got that from her ma, he noticed.
In his short moment of being distracted by the sight of his mother, Naz seemed to miss the fact that the neighbor had rushed to justify his reasoning for being on their front porch.
Zeke didn’t seem to notice Naz turning around to see his father cock his head to the side when he muttered, “My kid told you what?”
“I shouldn’t have to say it again.”
“Oh,” Cross said, laughing darkly under his breath, “but you really should.”
The neighbor cleared his throat. “As I said, he told me to ‘fuck right off, then.’“
Zeke’s hands on Naz’s shoulders flexed, but not painfully. He heard the choked laugh that came out of his godfather, too.
“And if I understood you right,” Cross said, “he told you that because you wouldn’t give his ball back. And he’s five, so you know he’s not listening to anything but when someone tells him food is on the table. For whatever reason, that was enough to tell your brain it was okay to put your hands on my son—and we know you know who the fuck I am—and march him right to my front fucking door, huh? Like I said, if I understood you right.”
“Listen, I’ll throw the ball back over, but you better keep it on your side of the street. It was just a lesson for him, that’s all.”
“Oh, you will? And what, I should thank you for that, yeah?”
“You know what,” the neighbor muttered, seemingly growing a second set of balls in the span of seconds, “fuck it, no, you’re not getting the ball back. You don’t own this suburb, Donati. I don’t care who you are.”
Cross turned his head to the side just enough for them to see the way he grinned, and it felt entirely wicked. “No, you keep the ball, man.”
“What—”
“I said what I fucking said. Keep the ball.”
Cross stepped backward with two fast strides, came within the house, grabbed the door, and slammed its shut. Down the hallway, his mother made a high noise under her breath that sounded both amused and anxious at the same time.
“What the fuck was that?” Zeke asked. “The fucking balls on that asshole, I swear. No respect at all.”
“Get your jacket.”
Naz glanced up at his dad. “What?”
“Get your jacket on, we’ve got business to do.”
Zeke’s hands squeezed Naz’s shoulders. “What does that mean?”
Cross smirked, his stare darting to Zeke as he shrugged. “Means we’re going to have some fun. Naz, get your damn jacket.”
He didn’t need to be told again, swinging out of his godfather’s grip to jump and swipe his jacket off its hook. His father already had the front door and was reaching for Naz’s jacket to help him slip it over his arms.
Zeke didn’t even ask more questions, simply followed along with a call to Catherine, “Give my wife a ring for me, would you? I’ll keep these two out of trouble.”
Naz heard his mother’s snort before Zeke shut the door.
*
Cross POV
“What in the hell are you doing?”
Cross nodded down at his son, who had stopped himself from picking the next ball out of the mesh bag at the sound of the neighbor’s shout. Naz didn’t question his father—ever. Anyone else, and he would give them hell when it came right down to it, but not his father.