Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
"You think she went back to California?" my father asked.
"She'd be stupid not to," I said, shrugging.
In my experience, when people figured out you were in the mob, they didn't tend to stick around for any length of time. They damn sure didn't fuck with your business.
"But if there's one thing we know about most small-time criminals," my father said, "it's that they are usually not very smart."
"Which is why we have everyone we can spare coming to the docks tonight, me included," I reassured him. Yes, he was my boss, but he was also my father. And I didn't want him thinking he needed to have his feet on the ground in potentially dangerous situations anymore. That was my place. It was his turn to take a break. He could hang back at the restaurant with Leandro, charming the high-rolling locals, making sure everything was up to his high standards from the food to the wine to the service. He was better at that than I was. Matteo was the best of all of us, but he usually couldn't be bothered to bring his charming ass in for a shift.
"If you find her there again—" he said, waving out a hand, letting the topic fall off. Because there were some things you didn't say aloud, some things that went without saying at all.
If we found her there again, she couldn't be allowed to get away. We would have to grab her, drag her in, throw her down in a basement somewhere, and then get information out of her by any means necessary.
We were, in general, old-school when it came to our moral code.
We didn't threaten wives and children. We didn't hurt women.
But times refused to stay old-fashioned, and women could just as frequently be a threat to our business as men could. Which meant, when we had to, we needed to be willing to use whatever methods needed to extract information.
We hadn't needed to put our hands on a woman before. And I hoped to hell we wouldn't have to now.
But if the order came down, the order came down.
Lucky and I shared a look, one of mutual apprehension and distaste mixed with resignation.
Family before everything.
Whether we liked it, at times, or not.
"I think the girl got a scare and went on home, gave up this mission," Leandro said, voice soft and sure.
I wasn't so sure.
Did she get a scare?
Yes.
Was that enough?
I didn't think so.
Because there was something in her eyes. I noticed it when I rewatched the footage Angelo had sent over to me. There was a determination mixed with a desperation that said she would do whatever it took to find whatever the hell it was that she was looking for.
Maybe a part of me was even anticipating it, wanted her to show back up, wanted an excuse to grab her, get some more alone time with her.
Which was fucked, but true.
Even after a little rest, a long run, and enough coffee to jumpstart a semi, I still couldn't get the image of her out of my head.
She was gorgeous in the way that demanded you notice, that made it necessary to pause and take a second look.
Everything from the shining dark hair to the flawless skin, the intelligent, brown eyes, the perfect bone structure, the fit, gently curved body, it took a moment to all sink in. Everything was too much to take in with one glance.
I'd taken a few.
I was greedy.
I wanted more.
On a sigh, I raked a hand down my face.
I'd been working too much. I wasn't even sure when was the last time I'd spent a night with a woman. Too long, if I was fantasizing about holding a woman hostage just so I could notice how fucking shiny her hair was.
"Sure," Lucky agreed with Leandro, but gave me a knowing look. "She got her scare and ran off," he said, giving the old man a clap on the shoulder. "Women haven't been known to have balls of steel in this town or anything," he added, sliding out of the booth.
Navesink Bank was a clusterfuck of criminal activity from street gangs to loan sharks to paramilitary camps. Some of the most ruthless organizations were run by women.
"Anything else, Unc?" Lucky asked my father, getting a head shake. "Then I'm off to work. Then hit up Ma's for dinner. I'll meet you at the docks by dark," he added, nodding my way before heading out.
"You sure you have this handled, Luca?" my father asked. "Leandro and I can come for extra support."
"We have half the family showing up tonight. If she's there, she isn't going to slip through our fingers."
"Where will you bring her if you catch her?"
That was a good question.
Back in the day, without my realizing it at the time, that place had been my childhood basement. Then, later, likely as the heat picked up from the local police force, in the back rooms at various businesses we owned.