Page 34 of City of Wind and Lies

"It's better to ask than assume," I admonish him, folding the sunglasses and tucking them in the top button of my black Brioni dress shirt.

"Okay, why were you busy this morning, and whose purse was in the hall?" he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Straight to it, no?” I chuckle. “I brought a girl home from the club. She left her things. Dallas brought them up." I shrug nonchalantly, pulling open the front door.

"Huh," he says, seemingly surprised. "Will it be a thing now?"

"Depends on how dinner goes tonight," I answer, striding down the hall, and trying not to let my excitement get the better of me.

"La Madonna, Bowie Sorrentino's wining and dining?" he whistles. "Well, take my nine and blow my mind."

"Stronzo," I mutter, shoving him through the open door of my office where my father is leaning back on the sofa, one ankle resting on his knee. Aldo Ricci sits beside him.

Rocco locks his hands in front of him, standing by the door as I steel my gaze and clear my throat. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

My father, ever the mediator between the elder men who served him and myself, rubs his chin as he gathers his words. "One of Ricci's men, a foot soldier, washed up in the morgue last month."

I raise an eyebrow, reaching for a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and pouring a serving of the amber colored liquor into a lowball glass. "And?"

"And-" my father starts, but Ricci interrupts.

"And I should have been advised!"

"Consider this your advisement,” I reply boredly. “Your man was a lazy bastard that failed in his position. I did you a favor by removing him from your ranks." I take a drink, the smooth burn doing well to cauterize my anger.

Setting my glass on the bar top, I turn to Rocco. "Show your father-in-law out. And remind him that he won't garner anything by disrespecting my position."

He nods, motioning for Aldo to follow him. As the two men leave, my father tips his head, inviting me to sit.

"Bowie, between the overdoses and your handling of Adam, the families are nervous."

"I know," I sigh. "Rocco and I are on it."

"Good." He squeezes my shoulder. "It's not easy leading, especially by yourself."

"Cazzo," I mutter, pushing to my feet. “Not this shit again.”

“Fine," he says, raising his hands in surrender as he stands beside me, buttoning his suit jacket. "Come by and see your mother sometime. She misses you."

“I will,” I answer, clasping my arms around him in a brief hug before he disappears into the hall. I’m just finishing off my glass of whiskey when my phone starts ringing in my pocket. Dallas' name flashes across the screen as I slide to answer. "Yes?"

"Wren was attacked, I'm taking her to Northwestern Memorial right now," Dallas rushes out.

My stomach plummets at his words."I'll meet you there," I manage, before ending the call and sprinting outside.

Rocco’s leaning against the SUV, cigarette hanging from his lips as he scrolls on his phone. I demand the keys, flinging open the driver’s side door and sliding inside. He hops in the passenger seat, door barely closing before I peel away from the curb.

Weaving frantically through traffic, my mind goes off the rails imagining what state I’m going to find Wren in. My pulse ratchets, blood boiling, and I make a silent promise to torture the soul out of whoever touched my girl.

12

"Daaaallas," Drea singsongs, leaning her face over the driver's seat. "Can we stop at Starbucks?" Her bottom lip juts out in a pout as Dallas' brown eyes drift up to the rearview mirror, meeting hers, then one side of his mouth tugs up in a smirk as he nods.

"Yesss!" She celebrates, leaning back and turning her head towards mine. "I so need some coffee. Whatta 'bout you, girl?"

I slide a hand across my stomach. "I think I'll get a green tea, I'm feeling bloated lately."

Drea pulls a face. "Shark week?"

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