Page 19 of Tossed into the Mob
“I know I said you could go back to your real life, but can you stay until I untangle who my father was and what happened to him?”
“I wouldn’t consider leaving until you say it’s okay.”
“You’re a good friend, Treyton.” He covered my hand with his, and my wolf howled, not from distress but because the jolt of the mating bond was almost painful. Warmth surged through my body, and I wondered if Brock sensed something, because his hand was flushed.
“Do you think life will ever go back to the way it was?”
I could lie and say yes, perhaps, I wasn’t sure, or I could speak for myself and say never.
“Different doesn’t always mean terrible. In this moment, it is, and though your dad isn’t here, his love is, and you are the person you are because of what he taught and modeled.”
His eyes glistened with tears which was his default setting since I met him. He was so brave to find me while escaping a killer.
“You’re lucky.”
“I am?” I agreed I was, but for an outsider looking in, one who’d had a brush with death, a mafia family might not be viewed as lucky.
“Your family may deal with death, violence, and bribes, but you have a lot of people who love you.” He sniffed.
“You’re not alone. My family is your family.” That was a bit much considering I hadn’t told him he was my mate, and other than being grateful, I’d seen no sign he was falling for me. But Grandpa said he was an honorary grandson.
“Oh really.” A smile plucked at his lips. “Blood drained from their faces when they met me, and the tension was so thick I could have bounced on it.”
“You have me.” For always, no matter where he was and who he was with. If he rejected me, I’d be the creepy stalker who sat outside his apartment at night, making sure he was okay.
“You’re a sweetheart.” He rewarded me with a full smile and then covered a yawn. “I’m ready for bed.” His eyes locked on mine, and I told myself they were sending a message. But it could have been, “You’re a good friend,” or “The bed in the trailer was crap and I’m looking forward to a better night.”
He side-eyed my butt. “Might want to hitch those up.” He giggle snorted, and despite my super-speedy reflexes, I let go of my pants and they puddled around my feet.
Brock’s eyes were as wide as my family’s when they’d met him. He pursed his lips together and scooted off to bed. When Igot into the room, he had one side of the bed turned down while he was facing the other way.
“Hope it’s okay to share my bed, but the heat from your body is calming.”
“No problem. And I got a smaller pair of pants,” I told him.
“Okay,” he mumbled, but seconds later, his slow breathing told me he was already asleep.
I lay awake most of the night, listening to my mate’s every breath. Before dawn, Brock rolled toward me and stuck out his hand. I took it and finally fell asleep.
At six, I reluctantly got up, made coffee, and jumped in the shower.
A scream filled the apartment. Brock. I raced into the living room, a towel draped around my hips. The gun was in my pack in the other bedroom. But my mate was alone in the den. He was staring at a row of photos on the wall. Forgetting I held the towel in one hand, I grabbed him and followed his gaze.
“What is it?”
He raised a trembling hand at a pic in the middle of the lineup. “L-L-L-Look.”
I focused on the people I knew. Grandpa, Rudy, Ranger, Hunter, and Flint. They were all dressed casually and smiling, and they had their arms around one another. This was my first time seeing this particular photo. I guessed it’d been taken before any of them mated, so some years ago.
But there was one person at the end of the group. He was next to Rudy and his expression was more serious than the others, but his face was familiar and not because I’d met him before. This was why my family had reacted with shock when my mate walked in.
The guy and Brock looked alike. Not just a little, but it was obvious they were related. If we’d found a pic of him at Brock’s age, I guessed he and my mate would look like brothers.
“That’s my father.”
EIGHT
BROCK
