Page 37 of The Cost of Corruption

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I answered, dismissing the idea. “How could I have feelings for anyone I’d only been around for twelve hours.”

“You knew her back in school.”

“I knewofher,” I clarified. “Passing someone in a hallway a couple of times a day doesn’t count as a relationship.”

“Keep telling yourself that, brother,” Gabriel said with a laugh.

If I’d been thinking straight, I would have taken his laughter as a good sign. One that meant his anger was cooling. But as tired and riled up as I was, the sound rubbed me the wrong way.

“Hey, I didn’t give you shit when you kidnapped a woman and used her as collateral against her family’s debt.” And Lord knew I could have. “So do us both a favor and lay off.”

To Gabriel’s credit, he shut his mouth…not for long, of course. But for him, even a few moments of silence was a show of good faith.

“Fair enough,” he said a few seconds later before letting out a long sigh. “Besides, you’re right. Trouble between us and the Costas has been brewing for a while now. I still can’t believe war didn’t break out when Dorian took out Carlo for what the bastard did to his wife.”

Of course, it helped that our brother was quite possibly the best assassin around. Not only had he left no evidence of his involvement behind, he’d killed the son of a bitch who’d dared to assault his woman in such a way that no one had been able to prove that a murder had even occurred. To the police, the press, and even the Costas, it had looked like nothing more than a tragic overdose of tainted street drugs.

“Besides,” Gabriel continued thoughtfully, “the Costas might be a pack of rash, arrogant assholes, but they’re not all idiots. Word is they’ve been doing good business over in Brooklyn. There’s a chance Michael’s capos and street soldiers won’t be willing to risk the kind of cash they’ve been pulling in over a war they know they can’t win.”

It was possible.

While Michael Costa might be obsessed with his daughter’s honor, that wasn’t true of the rest of his organization.

Money was what motivated mafia men, and they were loyal to the bosses who looked out for their wallets. Pride was all well and good, but it didn’t pay the mortgage or keep their wives and mistresses dripping in diamonds.

“I could talk to some people,” I offered. “See what his men are saying.”

Gabriel shook his head. “No offense, but it would be better if you sat this one out. If Costa is as pissed as I think, no one on that side of the bridge is going to be willing to talk to you. Even worse, if you go over there, some idiot might try to impress the boss by taking a shot at you.”

“That would be a mistake,” I said coldly.

One they wouldn’t live to regret.

But as much as I hated to admit it, my brother was right. This time around, I wouldn’t be much help gathering information.

Gabriel’s smile grew slightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you threaten anyone before—at least not openly. Do I have your little nun to thank for the change?”

Maybe.

Probably.

“Don’t read too much into it,” I told him, sliding back from the counter and leaving my uneaten breakfast behind. “It’s just been a long day.”

Now he was laughing at me. “It’s not even ten o’clock in the morning yet, brother.”

I let that jab slide. I had a feeling that to get through the next two weeks without committing fratricide, I would have to pick my battle judiciously.

“Do me a favor and send me the contact information for that personal shopper you used for Liv’s wardrobe when you first brought her home,” I said, already making my way out of the kitchen.

“You got it,” he agreed, though his voice still dripped with dark humor. “But I don’t think sell habits down on 5th Avenue.”

I didn’t even turn around.

“Fuck you,” I called out over my shoulder as I pushed open the kitchen door.

“Is that atechnicalfuck you or a real one?” he quipped before the door swung closed again.

In some ways, it really was going to be a long couple of weeks.

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