Page 89 of The Contract

“No. Do you?”

He doesn’t answer me. He’s thinking. It makes my heart skitter. Shit. I didn’t expect him to want one. Oh fuck.

His phone starts vibrating in his pocket. He pulls it out and frowns.

“Who is it?” I ask.

“My mother.” He looks agonized, which I understand now.

I understand, all too well, why he was so stiff and uncomfortable and angry with his “nice” mother. I know parents can be shitty. Evan and I were taken from ours when I was too young to remember, but he told me what useless drunks they were. Even so, I can’t get over the shock that his parentsexpected him to pretend like nothing had happened to him. I can’t believe they wouldn’t even let Noah help him. I can’t believe he tolerates them as well as he does.

“Do you want to talk to her?” I ask.

“No.”

“Then give that to me.” I hold out my hand.

Frowning, wary, Dante hands me the phone. I accept the call.

“Mrs. Adesso,” I say, “this is Tristan.”

“Where’s Dante?” she asks breathlessly.

“He’s not available.” I don’t ask her if she wants me to tell him something. She doesn’t deserve that courtesy.

“Is he okay?”

“No thanks to you, but, yes, he’s okay.”

She sucks in an audible breath, and so does Dante.

She doesn’t pretend to not know what I mean—she fucking pretends that I didn’t say it at all. My temper boils as she gets to her point.

“Lorenzo Capelli was found dead in his home,” she informs me. “A professional job apparently.”

“Huh.”

“The case is unlikely to go anywhere.”

“Huh.”

“I thought Dante might want to know.”

I hang up on her.

“What a piece of shit,” I snarl. “She is fucking unbelievable.”

“Easy now. That’s my mother you’re talking about,” Dante says, but he’s smiling a little.

“Don’t you dare stand up for her,” I snap at him. “She can fuck off.”

He huffs and sips his coffee.

“They’re calling Capelli’s death a professional job,” I report.

“I thought they would.”

“You don’t think it’ll come back to you?”

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