She sighed. “I’m not a child. I feel stupid being carried.”
“Now you’re acting like a child.”
She looked away. “You’re always putting me down.”
“Do you have any idea who those guys were?”
“Elliot said they worked for his boss.”
That gave me one piece of the puzzle. “They work for Tony Russo, the local Italian mob boss. You get on the wrong side of those guys in New York and they give you cement shoes and dump you in the East River.” I pulled open the door to her building and scooted in sideways so as not to bump her head.
“Oh.”
“Out here,” I explained, “they don’t bother with the cement. They just take you out on a boat, cut you a few times to make you bleed, and throw you overboard for the sharks.”
She cringed.
I carried her up the stairs of her building, and damn if she didn’t feel right in my arms as she laid her head against my chest and closed her eyes.
She pulled in a deep breath. “Thank you. Did I say thank you? Yes, I’ll ask for help next time, but what can I do to repay you? Anything. Just name it.”
I chuckled as we started down her hallway. “Those are dangerous words with a man like me.”
A come-hither smile appeared on her lips. “Anything. I mean it.” She had no idea how tempting her offer was.
“Dinner,” I said like the good man I aspired to be and definitely wasn’t. “Home-cooked,” I added to make it clearer.
“All you want is dinner, in addition to coffee I already owe you?”
“I did specify home-cooked. I have simple tastes.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
I managed a smile.It’s not a date.She’s your best friend’s little sister, you fuckwad.
CHAPTER 7
Grace
Dinner with Terry?That sounded good.
I laid my head against his chest as he carried me.
Of course I’d always found Terry attractive. What woman with a pulse wouldn’t? It had only been his less-than-winning personality that had kept me from angling for a date with the man.
Maybe that’s why I’d had a recurring dream that Terry hit his head or something, changed into charming Terry, and asked me out. And here I was, in his arms. It felt right.
He reached my floor and strode to my door.
“What’s going on?” Millie demanded. Of course her door was still open to the hall.
Terry turned so I could see her.
“I took a fall, and he’s helping me,” I assured her. No way was I telling her Terry was about to take a knife to my ass cheek.
“Terry Goodwin, ma’am, ex-LAPD and a friend of her brother.”
I noticed he didn’t claim to be my friend.