Page 95 of Rosetti Family New York
It’s a long way from our sleek glass tower in the city to the empty parking lot on the edge of Brooklyn, but I’m still holding that damned piece of paper in my mind. Besiana. Even when she’s not here, she’s here. I push it all aside and head inside to meet Rafe.
The place is all concrete and shadows. Empty metal chairs sit stacked in one corner, ready for the next underground fight night. During the fights, the air is thick with heat and noise and the stink of too many people with too much money. Today, it's almost cold. I find Rafe standing in the middle of the ring. He wears his leather gloves like usual, even though it’s only the two of us. Just in case, I suppose.
“Thought you might bring the old lady,” he says, smirking at me.
“Besiana stays out of business.” I glance around the silent room. “What’s going on?”
He steps closer and leans against the rope surrounding the ring. “The Callahans are taking care of the money side of things for the fight ring.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Look, if you just dragged me here to tell me shit I already know, I’ll slice that smirk right off your face.”
The Callahans are our business partners for the fight rings, the new enterprise Rafe is taking care of. They’re an Irish family with long tentacles who I don’t trust for ten seconds straight, but Rafe knows the son from juvie, and he vouches for him. Seems to be working out okay so far.
Rafe grins. “Keep your hair on, big brother. I just wanted a second opinion on the books.”
I turn to leave. “If you need money sorted out, you got the wrong brother. Talk to Emilio. I got other things to do.”
Like launch Iride. Check the security at the lab. And scrape Besiana out of the inside of my mind.
I’m halfway to the exit when the dull thud of bone hitting flesh snags my attention.
“Assholes couldn’t get their act together.” Rafe jerks his head toward the back. “They decided to start the fight early.”
He jumps the rope, and I follow him through the room, our footsteps echoing in the empty space. Two staff members are throwing punches at each other. One of them has a bloody nose already.
“Hey!” Rafe shouts. “You don’t get paid for that.”
They keep swinging. The smaller one connects and the bigger one staggers. Rafe is on them in two seconds, grabbing the smaller guy by the collar. I move to his side, taking hold of the big one’s arm. He’s sweating and has the vacant look of someone who doesn’t know who I am. Rafe pulls his guy up close.
“Wasn’t a request,” Rafe says.
The smaller man glares. He’s got a busted lip, and his eye is swelling shut. “He started it.”
I can feel the tension coming off Rafe. His voice drops. “Don’t care. Pack up and get out.”
The guy wrenches away from him, stumbling backward. He swears and tells me to fuck off, and my blood spikes like someone shoved ice through my veins. Besiana. I think of her and the Post-it and the way she has of getting under my skin. She swore at me the night I hauled her home from that dive bar in Brooklyn, but she’s the only one who can talk to me like that.
I’m distracted by her, big surprise, when the punch catches me off guard. A bright flash. Pain explodes across my face. The small guy looks like he’s about to regret it when Rafe gets to him first.
“That was a mistake,” Rafe says.
The man’s eyes widen as Rafe’s fist crashes into him, and his lights go out. He lands on the ground in a messy thud.
The bigger guy is staring at me like he can’t believe I’m still standing. He backs away from us, apologizing, and heads for the door.
Rafe shakes out his gloved hand, then turns to me.
“That eye’s gonna look like shit,” he says, smirking again.
“Good to know some things never change,” I mutter, touching my face where it stings the worst. The skin feels raw and bruised, and I immediately wonder about Besiana’s reaction. Will she fuss over me? Show her inner fire and tell me to fuck off? Or just obediently do whatever I ask of her?
We leave the body and head back to Manhattan, back to the controlled chaos of the Rosetti house. I still feel the shock of the punch with every step. I usually avoid getting hit, leaving that shit for Rafael and Matteo, but today, my mind was somewhere else. Somewhere I couldn’t control.
Rafe is the first to talk when we’re back on the road.
“You gonna tell her how you got that?”
I grunt, my head leaning against the car window. “She doesn’t care.”
