Page 59 of Mob Queen

Miller releases a frustrated breath, but reaches for his phone and hands it to me. “If you break this one then I’m gonna start charging you for every one you destroy.” I take his phone, then motion for him to stand. “Are you fucking kidding?” I repeat the same flick of my fingers. “For fuck sake, Frankie.”

“Open the shirt and lift it.”

Miller grumbles, but he does what I ask. “Happy?” I look at the phone, lift it and throw it against the wall. “Come on.” He clenches his jaw and throws his arms up over his head. “You owe me for a new phone.”

“Eat.” I pointedly look at G’s uneaten food.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Then don’t.” I click my tongue but continue enjoying my platter. “What’s the question?”

Miller sits back in the seat, staring at me while I eat. “I’ve heard it through the grapevine that you smuggle people.”

My fork stills, and I slowly lower it to the platter. “I’m a business woman, Miller. Not a human trafficker.”

“Business as in selling men, women and kids?”

My hands briefly clench at his repulsive question. “I do have a line I won’t cross.” I hold my hand and indicate with one finger, “One is forcing women into prostitution. I won’t do it, and I won’t force feed them drugs to keep them compliant.”

“Is that it?”

“Human smugglers who sell anyone are fucking scum and I’m happy to get rid of them. But kids, although I hate those little fuckers, I wouldn’t hurt them. Hard limit.”

“You hate kids?”

“Don’t you?” I lower my hand and tap my fingers with irritation on the table. “They’re like dogs. I don’t like them, but I wouldn’t kick one if we crossed paths.”

“You don’t like dogs either?” He shakes his head and blinks several times. “We’re getting off track.”

“That’s right we are. I think you should duck under the table and eat me.”

“What?” Miller chuckles.

“While you’re here you may as well make that mouth of yours useful, especially if you’re gonna accuse me of smuggling people.”

“I didn’t accuse you, Frankie. I’m merely asking a question.”

“You didn’t track me down, stalk me, just to ask if I’m a people smuggler. You want my pussy.”

“I prefer your mouth,” he instantly fires back.

A small smirk stretches my lips. “There has to be a reason you’re asking about human trafficking.” Miller avoids my hard stare. “What is it?” It’s clear he’s grappling with his own demons. “If you’re not here to tell me, then get out.”

He stays seated for a long moment. The waitress returns, holding two deep bowls of pasta. “The chef asked for you to try these,” she says as she lowers the bowls onto the table. “Should I bring an extra setting?”

“No, I won’t be staying.” Miller abruptly stands and makes his way toward the door. “You owe me for three phones, two tires and a fucking chair.”

I burst into laughter, and the waitress stands awkwardly shifting her weight from foot to foot. “You can go.”

“Thank you,” she says with relief.

G returns and sits. He looks at the broken phone and snorts. “You broke another one.”

“He asked me if I’m a human trafficker.”

“And you let him live?” G moves one of the pasta bowls in front of him, twirls some around his fork and shovels it in his mouth. “You’re losing your touch, Frank.”

“Find out where he’s going to be tonight.”

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