Page 16 of King of the Cage

“I heard the O’Connors started a fight,” Elio said.

A grin chased over my face at the memory. “They only did it to liven up the atmosphere and stop the rest of us from dying of boredom. Everyone was into the idea. Bran O’Connor is quite the showman,” I drawled, knowing the compliment would only annoy my brother.

“He’s quite something, that’s for sure. I don’t know why Ren had to invite them.”

“A gesture of goodwill? It doesn’t benefit either family to start a war over a tiny area of the Hudson, surely.”

Elio sighed. “You don’t know enough about it to be so opinionated,” he snapped, irritated. It took a lot to break my brother’s icy composure, so it was a testament to how far under Elio’s skin Bran had worked himself.

I enjoyed it more than I should have.

“When has that ever stopped me?”

“Don’t be facetious.”

“Yes, sir!” I mocked. “You’re not in the military now, so quit giving me orders. ”

“Quit acting out, then. Come back to Casa Nera. I’ll have someone pick you up.”

“No. I’m staying in the city. Stop smothering me, Elio. I don’t like being told what to do. I can take care of myself.”

“Have you eaten, at least?”

My patience snapped. “Enough. Everything is fine. I’m an adult, I can look after myself. I have been since I was thirteen years old, remember, and you decided that serving your country was more important than making sure your little sister ate.”

Elio was silent for a long time.

“Kidding,” I murmured, already regretting my barbed comebacks. He drove me crazy, and yet hurting him felt terrible.

“You’re not wrong, though,” he said heavily after a moment.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, remember?”

“In that case, I’d think you’d be pretty strong by now,” Elio murmured.

Warmth filled me at the semi-compliment.

“Nice of you to notice once in a while. I’m going to bed. Goodnight, dear brother. Don’t stay up all night cleaning your weapons and obsessing, okay? Promise?”

He didn’t answer, which was expected.

I said goodbye and hung up, annoyed. Elio treated me like I was still his friendless, awkward kid sister who he had to shield from the world. The girl who didn’t fit in. The one who preferred electronics to people. He wasn’t wrong. Electronics didn’t judge you and find you lacking. You didn’t have to wear perfume and a pretty dress for your computer to like you. You didn’t need lipstick and to bite your tongue. Electronics didn’t put their greasy hands on your thighs under the table and tell you to smile for once.

Sure, I’d learned how to be an adult and deal with the adult things people did. I dressed up when I felt like it, and I smiled plenty when I wanted to. I could lure a man to bed when I was inclined without too much trouble. The problem was the next day… when I wasn’t so pretty or pleasing. When my veneer of polish had worn thin, and I was just plain old awkward me. When I’d talk too much, or laugh too loud, or say somethinguncomfortable. Luckily, I’d figured out the most effective way of avoiding seeing that look of disappointment in a man’s eyes in the morning, which was leaving as soon as they drifted off and blocking their numbers. Worked like a charm.

The ice rattled in my glass as I brought it to my lips. I stared at the girls on the wall. Had they been good at pretending? Had they asked too many questions? Talked too loud? Had a few too many independent thoughts? Had they dreamed of getting married and having their own happily ever after, only to end up on a metal slab, their name written on a file that was shuffled to the bottom of a department’s workload and then filed as a cold case?

It was funny that Bran O’Connor’s nickname was Lost Boy of Hell’s Kitchen. I’d always fancied myself a mother of lost girls. The loud, overconfident, brash woman who men loved to say they bagged but would never date. The praying mantis of the De Sanctis family — one night, and he was toast. It was predictable, safe, and utterly boring at times. Most times, honestly.

I knocked back the rest of my drink, toasting my reflection in the window. Time to take this aspiring spinster to bed.

I was halfway across the room to the kitchen when the handle of the front door rattled.

Someone was outside.

4

BRAN

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