Page 23 of Brutal Power

I’m quiet and let that sit with me. Some of my anger begins to soften as I pull onto the oasis. I park out front and this time walk her to the door. We pause on the porch together and I catch her hand before she can go inside. “I shouldn’t have said it. I know this place is important to you and I shouldn’t have brought up the attack like that.”

“Are you apologizing?” Her eyebrows are raised and there’s a playful look in her eye.

“More or less.”

“Amazing. I feel warm all over.” She sighs and shakes her head. “You’re always like this, aren’t you? All pent-up and angry?”

“I like to think of myself as a serious businessman.”

That gets a laugh. “Sounds really healthy.”

I like the way her body softens when she’s laughing, even if it’s at my expense. “Come have dinner with me and my siblings, and I’ll tell you what Omar said tonight.”

She licks her lips. “All of your siblings?”

“Sunday dinner. You’ll love it.”

“Honestly? I probably will. But where are we going afterward?”

“My house. I’ll even decorate for you.”

She pushes open her door and turns to go inside. But she turns back to look at me and there’s that wide-open smile again. My stomach tightens, and she’s so fucking gorgeous I could drag her back across the seat and kiss her.

“If you can decorate in a day, I’ll agree to sleep over. But only if you can keep your hands to yourself.”

“We’ll see about that,” I murmur as she slams the door in my face. No kiss goodnight.

Chapter 13

Elena

Brody’s right. IadoreSunday dinner.

It’s my kind of scene. His whole family meets in one house that’s way too small for them and they do nothing but argue, make jokes, laugh, drink, gamble, watch sports, and eat. It’s basically heaven, and it helps that I genuinely like everyone, especially his sister Molly. She’s a little bit older than me but we have an extremely similar vibe. She’s all hippie-ish with peasant tops and flowy skirts and a bunch of tattoos, but she’s hard and she has a mouth that can stand up to any of the boys. We’ve got the same kind of energy too; somehow, she manages to keep up with me, which is pretty rare.

They’re so comfortable. That’s the best part. Some families are a little strained, a little awkward, but not the Quinns. They’re vicious and hilarious and it’s clear they’ve been doing this little get-together for years because they enjoy it.

Molly pours us a couple drinks and we sit out on the front porch while Seamus, Brody, Declan, and Nolan yell at a Cubs game on TV. Caitlin, the youngest sister, is in the kitchen helping theirmom cook dinner, which I note is only somewhat sexist, since Brody was in there earlier chopping onions and doing prep.

“Sorry if this is a little too much,” Molly says, curling up in a rocking chair. I sit down next to her and laugh, unable to help myself.

“You should see my family’s version of Sunday dinner. Seriously, we’rewaymore dysfunctional.”

Molly smiles a little into her drink. “I hear you have your own city block all to yourselves. Is that actually true?”

“We call it the oasis for obvious reasons. But I don’t know, sometimes I wonder how long that’ll last. The mayor’s office isn’t happy with us right now.”

“The mayor’s office.” She laughs lightly and peers at me from beneath her dark bangs. “I know my brothers are connected. They’ve got friends all over the CPD. But that’s different from the mayor’s office.”

“I know what you mean, but from my perspective, you all have it good. We can influence the CPD, but it’s not the same. I watched Brody make a phone call the other day and a bunch of cops that were harassing my family straight up disappeared. That’s real power.”

“Still, it’d be nice to have a whole block to ourselves.” She nods at the neighbor. “Old Lady McGlinty’s missing a few screws. She was out mowing the lawn in her underwear at midnight a few weeks back. And over there, that’s Robby McBride’s place, the biggest creep in the entire world. I keep telling Mom she should move, but she’s always been in this house. I mean, it used to be my dad’s office, you know?”

I look over my shoulder back toward the house. Earlier in the day, a bunch of people showed up to speak with Brody, and he’d retreated into a room to speak with each and every one of them. “Did your dad hear petitions on Sundays too?”

“Brody kept the tradition going.” Molly follows my gaze. “It’s a small thing, you know? Just listening to people in the neighborhood. But it makes everyone feel better.”

“I like it,” I admit, and I don’t add that it surprises me. Brody doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would give a damn what his neighbors have to say, but he heard all of them out, and a few of them for almost an hour each. He went from cutting vegetables to hearing complaints to sitting on the couch and drinking beer, and it’s like watching all the different costumes he wears, all the different men he’s forced to be.

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