Page 43 of Finn

“Yeah. Cillian got a tip about Cataldi. Hopefully I won’t be home too late.”

Alessia quirks her brow and tilts her head to the side.

“Okay, hopefully I’ll be home before sunrise.”

She nods and pushes me back a step so she can hop off the counter.

“Do me a favor,” I say, looping my arm around her waist and pulling her flush against my chest. “Sleep in my bed tonight.”

“You won’t even be there,” she replies.

“No, but I want to think of you there.” I lean down for a soft kiss.

Alessia nods and looks me in the eye. “Then you have to do me a favor.”

I nod and smile at my little dealmaker of a wife.

“Don’t die tonight.”

“Death wouldn’t be so cruel as to take me the first night I finally get to sink between your thighs.”

Alessia rolls her green eyes and smacks my chest. “God, save the lines.”

“For who? I’m a married man now.”

“Lucky me,” she says with sarcasm dripping from each syllable.

“No, baby. Lucky me.”

After meeting at Cillian’s place, we get in one car and drive to the club Carlo was known to frequent, parking out front. It’s one of the few that doesn’t have any affiliation with the Italians or our family.

“Did you talk to your guy?” I ask Cillian, not wanting to be sitting in this small sedan all night while my wife is waiting for me in my bed. If she’s still asleep when I get home, maybe I’ll take it upon myself to move all her things into my bedroom. I’m sure she’ll appreciate that. Yeah right.

“It’s not a guy.”

“Wait. We’re relying on the word of a stripper?”

“Don’t be a dick, Finn. Yes, we’re relying on the word of a stripper. She’s a nice girl, and you sound like a judgmental asshole.”

“Sorry, I just didn’t realize you made friends at strip clubs. Most men don’t come here for coffee and a chat.”

“Shut the fuck up. Let’s go in and see if we spot him. I don’t want to sit in a car all night with your ass.”

We’d decided to dress in casual clothes and baseball caps to look like any other Joe Schmo ready for some fun.

“Fine by me,” I tell my lieutenant, and we head in.

The dark club is packed, so we take a table toward the back of the building. I order two drinks from the waitress, who has to lean in close to hear me over the thumping bass of the music blaring from the speakers.

“How’s married life?” Cillian asks, scanning the club.

A grin spreads across my face before I can answer.

“You fucked her.” He isn’t asking a question, and his tone has my hackles rising.

“Cillian, I’m going to say this one time—watch your tone when it comes to Alessia. She’s my wife, and she will be given respect.”

Cillian stares at me wordlessly for a beat then nods. “Fine.” He takes a sip of his beer the waitress dropped off and continues scanning the crowd. “She know you’re at a strip club?”

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