Page 13 of Love Him Like Water

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “As far as our guys can tell… everyone went home.”

“Good,” I said, tipping back my drink, hoping it would chase away any lingering concerns of someone going back on the deal.

“I wouldn’t count out those brothers of hers, though,” he said.

“Which ones are hers again?” I asked. The Costas seemed to breed like fucking rabbits, everyone having five-plus kids each, making it hard to keep their damn family tree even halfway straight.

“Fuck, even I can’t remember them all. But I know one of ‘em is Cesare,” he said, and the name had a more familiar ring than most.

Because that fucker had once slept with the wife of one of my capos, leading to my allowing the man to put a hit out on Cesare, who was quickly hightailed it out of the state to avoid that fate.

One of the many rifts between our families.

“But it’s not him I’d be worried about. It’s the older brother. Nico? Heard through our channels that he was the one who was ready to come here and take us all out by himself when he heard you were going to marry his baby sister.”

“Put someone on him then,” I said. “Until we are sure he’s going to abide by the alliance,” I added. “Alright, enough of this,” I told him, moving over toward a small crowd who was listening as one of my capos, Dav, seemed like he was in the middle of another of his stories.

“And this fucker is looking at me like I’d grown another fucking head,” he was saying as I joined the group. “Like, buddy, the Fish Market is in the fucking Bronx, not Brooklyn. Then he’s all ‘I just want some tail, man.’ And I’m all: ‘Tail? The fuck you wanna eat the tail for?’ I mean, I’m starting to think he’s out of his fucking mind. One of those people screaming at the skies and shit. What I get, right, for offering to actually fucking help one of these goddamn tourists who can’t figure out how fucking Google works.

“Anyway, he fucking growls at me, then stabs a finger toward a woman across the street. And I finally get that the motherfucker isn’t talking about fish at all. He wants to know where to find a fucking brothel for the night,” he concludes, getting a laugh out of the men gathered around. “Fish market,” Dav said, shaking his head. “Dunno what kind of women he’s fucking, but I think pussy is sweet as candy, right, Cinna?” he asked as one of my female capos walked nearby.

Cinna turned, taking in Dav’s golden boy good looks, a little too light-haired and blue-eyed to be fully Italian like she was with her long, dark hair, and dark eyes that could cut a man down with one glance.

“I don’t remember,” she said. “I haven’t had my face in a box since I was eighteen,” she admitted, getting a chuckle out of some of the other men as Dav pressed a hand to his heart.

“Cinna, you minx,” he said, turning his attention fully to her. “I feel I need to know every detail about this story. For example, what were you wearing? Or not wearing?”

“Keep dreaming, Dav,” she said, shaking her head, but not completely immune to his charm, no matter how much she pretended. “I’m not giving you material for your spank-bank. Boss,” she said, nodding at me. “I hear congratulations are in order,” she added, but not actually congratulating me, I noticed. “I would have been at the ceremony, but that much Costa stink would make me sick.”

“Always nice to have your support, Cinna,” I said.

Cinna was a neighborhood kid who’d been moved out of the city when she was little, only to return in her teens. Angry and ruthless. She was barely in school for a week before she got expelled for nearly ripping a guy’s balls off for coming up behind her in the hall and grinding against her.

I knew right then that she was a woman destined for great things. And, at nineteen, she’d become the first official female capo in New York mafia history. Almost ten years later, she was still kicking ass and confirming my suspicions about her potential.

“You always got my support, Renz,” Cinna said. “Even when I think you’re out of your motherfucking mind.”

“Were there any toys involved?” Dav asked, still hung up on Cinna’s comment before.

“Because girls can only get off if something phallic is involved?” Cinna asked, brow lifted.

To that, Dav’s eyes went darker as he leaned in close. “Cinna, baby, I wouldn’t need anything but my mouth to get you off.”

“Keep dreaming, Dav,” she said, pressing a hand into his chest, and pushing him back a foot, so she could walk toward the bar to get herself a drink.

“She’s coming around,” Dav said, nodding.

“Sure, man, sure,” I agreed, shaking my head at him as I walked around to the next group.

It was a couple hours after that when the events of the day finally caught up to me, making my legs feel heavy and my mind unable to focus on the snippets of conversation going on around me.

I finished off the rest of my drink, set it on the bar, and made my way through the apartment, barely able to push between people, the crowd was so thick in some areas.

I needed some fucking sleep.

It wasn’t until I was halfway up the stairs that I remembered that, for the first time in my entire goddamn life, I wasn’t going to be sleeping alone.

Unless Elian had set Lore up in one of the guest rooms. Which would have been the smart thing to do.

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