Page 53 of Diamond In The Rough

“So she’s, like…” Christabelle straightens on Felix’s lap, picking up a croissant from the platter and opening it to pick at the meat and cheese inside. “She Cordoza’s?”

“Friend of Cordoza,” Felix murmurs.

While I unlock my screen and hit dial on Harrison’s name, he fills her in.

“Michelle is like an adopted kid to Cordoza. Not officially, since she’s a grown-ass woman. But he loves her anyway. And Ace is Michelle’s sister. We say there are just two original families left in New York, but really, there’s a third. A silent fucking partner who watches over everyone and works in stealth mode.”

“They’re mafia?”

“They’re actually more… anti-mafia.” He snickers. “They don’t accept anyone’s shit.”

“Harrison speaking.” My call connects and drags my attention to the phone in my hand. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Background check.” I push up from my chair and stalk toward the pool. “Tiia Hale. You already know most of what I know. Workplace. General age. I want you to go as deep as you can manage—and take another pass at Roscoe too. I wanna know who the fuck he is, and why he thinks he can lock Tiia away whenever he feels like it.”

“Sir?” Silence hangs for a beat. “He locks her away?”

“Run the check and get back to me. How long will you need?”

“I’ll get started right now. I could have a fair amount for you within the hour. The rest will come over the next couple of days.”

“Alright.” I look down into the crisp blue water, then to my left, to the oversized puppy who stretches out on the warming concrete. “Send me what you get as it comes in. I wanna know everything.”

Pulling the phone from my ear and killing the call, I turn at the water’s edge, only to find Felix and Christabelle staring.

“Shut up.”

“Dude,” Lix rolls his eyes. “Just go and fuck her already. It’s all looking kinda sad at this point.”

“I’ve never reacted to a woman the way I have to her. Something isn’t right.”

“That’s called lust, little brother. It’s closely related to love.”

“No, it’s called intuition. I’ve spent my whole fucking life not dying. It’s not my cock that’s stirring when I look into her eyes.”

Well… it is. But it’s not only my cock that stirs.

“If I’m wrong, then I’m wrong. I’m man enough to admit it. But if I’m right, then I’ll have saved all of our fucking lives. Again.” I drop my hand into my pocket and start back toward the house. “You can thank me later. In writing.”

Felix snorts.

His endless ability to brush shit off is a habit I’ve always puzzled over. How, when he knows what he knows, and carries the load he does, can he be so fucking blasé about the world? When he has so many targets painted on his back, and a price on his head that brings visions of a hunter’s kill, stuffed and mounted on the wall… How can he smile and love and live and frolic around the city, knowing his enemies hover close by?

I’ll be long dead and buried before I understand how his brain works.

“Micah?” Mary, the woman who is the closest thing to a maternal figure we’ve ever known, steps out from behind the kitchen counter, her white sneakers as clean as the day she bought them, and her plain black dress, sharp and uncreased—unlike her aging face. She carries a small plate in her hands, and extends it forward in offering. “You need to eat.”

“I have things to do. I’m not hungr?—”

“Eat.” She practically slaps the plate to my stomach, and smirks when my breath cuts short.

Her hair is graying, and her wrinkles, multiplying. But the cunning in her eyes is as sharp as ever. She’s no softly spoken weakling.

Which has always been interesting to me.

Five sons, from five different wombs. Timothy Malone the Second chose women he would eventually kill and bury. He didn’t love them. He didn’t even humanize them.

But then there’s Mary. She’s been in his employ since before our conception, and admits to a sometimes-romance with the prick.

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