Page 33 of SINS & Lies

He rips off his tie, nostrils flared, completely out of control. “We’re doing this. Now.”

He’s halfway through undoing his belt when I prop up on my elbows, and repeat myself. Albeit, less convincing. “We can’t.”

Two hands grip my knees and spread my legs. “The hell we can’t.”

Out of nowhere, the blare of a horn shatters the moment. Then it does it again and again, honking and sounding the alarm.

His gaze darts from me to the window, then down to the street below. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath before bolting out the door.

I look outside to see what’s going on. My eyes widen at the sight of three little girls climbing all over the hood of a very expensive sports car like it’s the best thing in the world.

Enzo is a mob kingpin. With a gun. Headed right to three little ballerinas threatening to cave in the hood of his car.

Shit is right.

CHAPTER 12

Kennedy

Panicked, I chase after Enzo, his strides threatening to unleash a Mach-4 storm on three very naughty little girls.

Once outside, he halts abruptly. I collide into him from behind.

“Hey!” he barks, attempting to sound every inch of the stern kingpin that he is. With both hands on his hips, he demands, “What do you zoo animals think you’re doing?”

The girls, no taller than my waist and completely unfazed by his presence, laugh even louder as they slide down the windshield of the sleek, black sports car.

Assertively, he demand, “Get down from there this instant, or so help me...” He doesn’t finish the threat. Instead, he lets the implications hang heavy in the air the way all parents do when they have no idea what to say next.

I can’t help but wonder if he speaks to everyone like this—little children and dangerous thugs alike.

The girls continue treating his car like their personal jungle gym, giggling hysterically as they slide down the windshield and bounce on the hood.

He holds up a finger. “I’m going to count to three. One.” Pause for effect. “Two.” A second finger goes in the air.

Thankfully, before he can reach the dreaded three, they’re all on the ground, front and center.

One of them, a curly-haired brunette with pigtails, points an accusatory finger at her friends. “It was their idea!”

His stern brow turns to me. “Are you going to tell her, or should I?”

“Tell her what?”

“Snitches get stitches.”

Playfully, I smack him in the chest and pray he isn’t serious. “They’re very comfortable around you,” I reply softly, hoping he somehow understands what a great day this is for them. “They’re not like this with everyone,” I add, hoping to butter him up.

“You’re the only one I want comfortable around me.”

When his car alarm goes off again, he rolls his eyes. “Stop leaning on the car.”

The girls stand back up.

With a huff, he clicks his fob, stopping the noise, mid-honk. “You can’t just climb all over someone’s car like that. Do you have any idea how much a brand-new Aston Martin costs?”

The littlest one shrugs her shoulders. “A hundred dollars?” I bite back a smile as she hands him something. “Here you go, Zo.” I’m momentarily stunned that she knows his name. Or, I think she knows it.

She puts whatever it is in his hands, and it looks delicate, like angel wings. “What is it?” I ask, curious.

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