Page 50 of Unexpected Temptation

Driving through the city, I drum my fingers on my knees. “I don’t even know,” I say. “I didn’t even think. I just want to see her.”

I wonder if Tank will make another buzzkill comment that will sour the whole thought, but thankfully, he keeps his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself, but he laughs. “You got to think of something. Just try to make it so it doesn’t include alcohol. We need to be fresh on Friday.”

I rarely drink, but he already knows that. Drinking was often a rite of passage in the corps, but I limited it in my civilian life. Soon, I’m back at the sanctuary, back in the regular work cycle. Carlo has agreed for me to be at the meet, but that doesn’t mean we’ll get anything.

That doesn’t mean the Mob will quit. A sick image hits me as I clean the kennel walls for the rest of the day. Men in leather jackets smoking cigarettes, pulling Maya and her mother across the front lawn of their home, toward vans and cars, nowhere pretty. But why would the Mob target them?

Dumbass, if you go on a date with her…

Right now, the Mob thinks I’m learning my lesson. I’m working with Carlo. I’m being a so-called good boy. They’ve got no reason to know I’ve asked her on a date, and even if they did, they’ve got no leverage. As far as they know, she’s just some woman I’m helping.

Yeah, that sounds lame. If they find out I’m paying herandtaking her out, I’m suddenly the stoic, badass Marine with a romantic side. Fuck it. It’s too much to think about, but Ihaveto.

Before, it was easy to avoid this issue. She was just another employee. But asking her on that date felt so natural somehow.Something must’ve gotten hold of me when I was with her, some wildness I’ve tried to tame. It’s only now, driving home, it hits me.

If Raffie or anybody else tries to hurt Maya, we wouldn’t be playing with Tank’s deck of guards anymore. It’ll be mine. I’ll club the bastards to death, slit their throats, and dig them cold holes with a spade as they bleed out.

They shouldn’t wake the goddamn beast.

Later, I try to sleep, but my cell rings the second I drift off. It’s Raffie.

“Hey, T. Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” I mutter groggily.

“You got a minute, bro?”

I grind my teeth, thinking about what I might have to do to him. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know where else to go. The fellas would laugh at me, but we’re old friends, right? I mean, shit, lately, but we are, yeah?”

He sounds so desperate to believe this advertisement of Mob life, whining down the phone because your only real friend is somebody you knew as a kid.

“Hmm,” I say, thinking about those scared kids, Raffie yelling at me to hurt them. My pity dies.

“I need somebody to help me with this coke shit. I need it off my hands. I want it gone.”

“I can’t come and pick up?—”

“I’ve got your fight purse, okay, T? More for you, twenty K on top. Please, man. I don’t need it moved. No deals. Just make it disappear. A favor. Please?”

I hate the desperation in his voice, but the truth is, mostly, I need the money. “Swear, Raffie,” I tell him.

“Honest to God. They were always going to pay you. After what you did, do you think anyone wants to fight you? Plus, you’re a good worker, T. Everyone knows that.”

Translated, he thinks I’m going to let Carlo turn the sanctuary into some shit show.

“Thanks, Raffie,” I tell him. “That means a lot coming from you.”

“So you’ll come?”

I sigh. “Yeah.”

This is the line I walk. I’m working with Tank. I’m going to sell this man out. They’ve gone too far, but I need the cash, and the world’s a better place with a less coked-up Raffie, so what harm can it do? The dogs need beds, crates, heating pads, cooling mats, food, bowls, treats, first aid supplies, emergency meds, etc.

They deserve it. That’s the justification I give myself as I get out of bed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

---