Page 56 of His Passerotta

This is so fucking uncomfortable.

“You’re still pissed at me,” he observes like the clever detective he is.

“Nope. Just think it makes little sense for me to share the private parts of my life with someone who shares nothing about their own.”

A long sigh blows from his parted lips as his eyes close. “I was going to tell you last night. You didn’t want to know.”

“Well, I do now.” I lean toward him, bracing myself for whatever he says.

“It’s really nothing, B.” He sounds so nonchalant, I can’t tell if it’s an act. Surely it is. Surely he isn’t stupid enough to fuck with mobsters with so little care. “We’re poking the beasts of Las Vegas a little bit, but they have no idea it’s us.”

“By beasts, you mean the mobs.”

He nods.

“Corey…” I press my thumb and forefinger to my temples and bow my head while I try to contain the frustration building.

I lose the battle.

“Are you fucking stupid?” I spit, my hand flying to slap the table. “They will kill you.”

“No, they won’t. They don’t know it’s us. I promise, B, I’m being safe.”

“No, you aren’t!” I push from the table and brace myself on the edge. “They will figure it out. You know they will.”

He sighs again like it’s me who doesn’t get it. “They’ll be way too busy killing each other to do that.”

I think back to last night when Anthony told me he was “fully aware” of who planted the bomb and what their intention was. I knew right then that he had no clue what he was talking about.

Who does Anthony think did it? And what exactly is he going to do?

“Why would you want that?” I slink back into my seat as energy drains from me. I’m passing anger and on a steep slope to defeat. Why? Why is my brother this reckless? “They’re people just like you and me. Why would you want them to kill each other?”

His nose scrunches like he’s just smelled something foul. “They’re mobsters, B. Trust me, they do way more fucked-up shit than you’d be able to comprehend.”

I scoff. “You’re one to talk.”

“I am not a mobster.” He narrows his eyes like I’ve genuinely offended him. He was trying to murder Anthony in cold blood just yesterday. Anthony let me live even when his best move was to kill me.

And Corey thinks he’s the better one… It doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing.

“Regardless, what the hell do you get out of having them dead?” I ask, leveling myself.

He pushes his plate back to rest his forearms on the table. “We don’t really care about the Russians and Italians, but when the Irish came back to Vegas, they took our turf. If we can get the other two to push the Irish out of town, we can take it back.”

My brows pinch, but it isn’t because what he said doesn’t make sense. It actually does. If it wasn’t so fucking dangerous, I’d think it was a smart plan. In all honesty, I’m not a fan of the mobs and never have been. They eat up all the jobs for everyone else, leaving us low-level degenerates with nothing but scraps. But not me. Not anymore.

No, my brows are pinching because I don’t know what to say to get my brother to back down. As far as I’m aware, his plan is working.

“So last night … was that you?” I ask.

“You mean the bomb at La Divina?”

I nod, and he does the same.

“It must’ve been found because we put it in the office. It wound up in the dumpster.”

“Thank God it did. You could’ve killed someone, Corey.”

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