Page 18 of Unexpected Temptation

I shake my head, waving him off, and he lowers his hands. “It’s that sort of deal, is it?” he says sourly.

“Tank,” I grunt.

“I know, I know,” the big man says, a grumbling note in his voice. “It’s still tough, T. I’m doing my best to clean this city up.”

“The stuff I do, Tank, it’s … not what you think.”

I sit at the edge of the upstairs gym. The cops own it, but it’s often empty, which is a bad sign. Tank agreed to come here on his day off and help me work the pads. My body feels good, my skills focused. I just wish there wasn’t this thing called morality nibbling at my heels.

Tank sits next to me. “And what do I think?”

“I don’t know,” I growl, “but I’m not some scumbag. I draw the line.”

“Sooner or later, they’ll try and force you to redraw that line, T. It’s how they operate.”

I grind my teeth. “Have you seen my sanctuary? When I were out there, I never could’ve imagined it—all those happy dogs.”

“You’re a tough bastard, T, but this soft spot for dogs is going to get you messed up one of these days.”

We both know he’s probably alluding to when I chased Odin into a house with three insurgents inside. It was one of the only times the battle-hardened Malinois lost his cool.

“A fight’s a fight,” I tell him. “This is one of the only jobs you shouldn’t have a problem with.”

“It’s them—the Trentinis. All of them are enemies in my book. The stuff they do: getting people hooked on drugs, getting young girls involved in dancing. These are girls who’d otherwise go on to do something else. They’re not good, T.”

“I never said they were,” I growl. “But I served this damn country for eleven years, and when I went to the bank and asked them for a loan, they told me to go fuck myself.”

Tank pushes away from his sitting position, walking quickly to the opposite window of the narrow room, then turns to me with his chest puffed up. He looks capable with his white tank and his Marine tat showing. We’ve been through too much together for me ever to think he’d swing on me but he looks like he wants to.

“Goddamn it,” he says. “Save me the phony moralizing, bro. The bank rejected the loan application because the placeisn’t profitable.”

“It doesn’t need to be,” I tell him. “I take care of that.”

“By pushing drugs. By recruiting women?”

I stare at him coldly. It doesn’t even take a second for him to drop his gaze.

“I’m sorry. I know you’d never do anything like that, but goddamn. It’s whattheydo, and if you’re working with them …”

I grit my teeth. My head is pulsing. It’s been six months since I started working with Raffie, six months since I made a pledge to those dogs. I know Tank is right on some level, but I’ve drawn my lines, and that has to mean something. There are things I won’t do.

What if they try to force me? What if they threaten the home?

“If you’ve dug yourself a hole,” Tank says, “remember, you’ve got friends. I’ll help you climb out.”

“I don’t need help,” I tell him coldly. “I’m a freelance operator. The fact that we’re here, even having this conversation, is proof of that.”

He sighs, but I can see he gets my point. He knows that any true Mafioso wouldn’t be permitted to meet with a cop, even if they used to be buddies or served in the military together. Yet I can go anywhere I want and do what I want. That’s what I tell myself. I’m not a prisoner.

“Another round?”

“Save yourself,” Tank says. “Whatever these psychos have planned, it won’t be good.”

“Good. Bad. It doesn’t matter.”

I just need that cash.

“Don’t hesitate,” Tank says. “You never do, anyway. If you don’t hesitate, T, then whoever it is, and I don’t care if they’re a UFC champ, they don’t stand a chance.”

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