Page 6 of Choices

And with them, it was all about just getting a release. If I was even remotely affectionate with any of them, they'd get the wrong idea.

But here? In the middle of one of the richest counties in the US, with a peacefully snoring suburban Princess in my arms? Why not?

Chapter two

Matty

Rico walks into his office and gives his seconds-in-command a once-over. I'm not sure you could call us his seconds, since neither of us could lead this empire if something happened to him, but we are his inner circle. The only men he trusts.

I jump up from my place on the couch a tad too eagerly, but I've been on edge since I saw her.

Rico raises an eyebrow at me, but I keep my mouth shut... something that's incredibly difficult for me.

Santiago, on the other hand, couldn't speak if he wanted to, so he leans against his usual spot on the wall, thick arms folded over his barrel chest.

Rico rounds the desk and sits in his father's worn leather office chair, leveling Santiago and me with a glare.

"Does someone want to tell me why my seconds give a shit about some soccer mom being in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"What happened? You didn't hurt her, did you? What did she say? Did she mention me?" The words tumble out of my mouth unrestrained.

Rico gives me a "What the ever-loving fuck?" look and I bite my tongue, swallowing hard.

He narrows his eyes at me further. "Why would she have mentioned you?"

Fuck!

I shove my hands in the front pockets of my suit pants and stare up at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact. I whistle silently and rock back and forth on my heels, hoping he moves on to the next subject.

He shifts his glare to Santiago, who rolls his eyes and whips his phone out of his back pocket, opening his text-to-talk app.

"Just didn't want her getting hurt." The mechanical voice on his phone says.

"Why do you care?"

He frowns and types again. "Not everyone's mom deserve to die."

"How do you know she's a mom?"

Santiago shoots Rico a ghost of a grin – well, as much of a grin as I've ever seen him do - before motioning his hands around her hips.

Rico grins. Yeah, he'd noticed her hips too.

I can't control myself any longer. "But did she say anything? Was she scared? Did you take her home?"

"Who is she to you?"

"Her name is Hannah Calahan. Or she was before she got married. We went to High School together."

There's a lot more to that story, and he can tell, but it's 3 am and we're all exhausted. Last week, when Johnson had texted us about a body showing up in our territory and testing positive for fentanyl, we knew we were being set up. We found the dealer, one of Vitale's men, and put him down tonight.

Vitale is quickly becoming a problem. He's a small, arrogant man, drunk on power and greed. The four mafias that control various territories in and around DC, Maryland, and Virginia (or the DMV) have been enjoying a few years of relative peace. The Columbians (us) control Northern Virginia and a sliver of DC. The Italianscontrol Southern DC and Southern Maryland. The Russians control Northern DC where it merges into Maryland and the Irish control the Northwestern part of DC.

We're all running the same lines of business while trying to stay off the FBI's radar. It's a risky move running illegal operations in the backyard of the FBI headquarters, but for the most part, the four families know how to keep our heads down.

We all run the same types of businesses -money printing, laundering, drugs, gun running, and paid protection for businesses in the sketchier areas of DC.

We take care of our own. Very rarely does anyone OD on the drugs we sell them. Dead junkies don't make good customers. All our dealers know when to cut someone off, make it more expensive, or recommend another class of drug to prevent overdoses.

---