Page 37 of Moonlit Hideaway
Liam leaned in, his leer unsettling. “Looks like I might have a lucky find. What’s the matter? Shacking up with the local yokel not your style?”
“You’ve never been the smart one, so let me break it down to you. You’re out of place here, and if you’re smart, you’d keep your mouth shut until the new capo is clear.”
“That’s what I’m doing. Laying low—like you.”
“Then go lay low somewhere else. Breaking into my truck was your first mistake.”
“Not if I kept you from leaving the island.” He knocked his head back as if he scored a point. “So, you caught me. I’m keeping tabs on you. You can call it surveillance or protection. Your choice.”
“Depends on who you’re working for. My mother’s tight with your dad.”
“And you can be tight with me.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I know why you’re with the innkeeper, but it won’t work. He’s out of his league. He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”
“Leave Hank out of this,” Sierra said. “You’d better worry whose side you’re on. I win either way.”
“How so?”
“My daddy gave me the businesses. I’m just waiting for the dust to settle.”
He cocked his head. “Got big plans, do you? Skipping out on Marco?”
“Like I’d tell you. Who’s your bet? Enrico or Chauncey?” She was taking a chance to mention her sisters’ husbands, but she had to know the score.
Liam barked a laugh. “Not betting on dead horses.”
“So, your dear old dad then?”
“He doesn’t want to be capo.”
“Oh, come now, what if he marries my mother?”
“The businesses don’t come with your mother—they come with you.” He leaned closer, his breath foul behind his disgusting beard. “Marry me, and let’s outplay them all.”
“Are you stupid? It’ll make you a dead man and me a widow—and then we’re back to square one, except you’ll be six feet under.”
“You got a point. But what’s wrong with a little entertainment on the side while you wait?” He put his heavy arm around her. “You got some fire in you. I like it.”
Sierra didn’t want to say his entire being was disgusting. He was, after all, Uncle Tony’s son, and she had to keep his loyalty away from Marco.
“Marco was Daddy’s underboss, and he won’t stand aside. If he got wind of you making a play?”
“Unless he’s dead.” Liam stroked his beard. “I know how you women are. Stand back and see which dude wins.”
“It’s called self-preservation, or street smarts—something you don’t have.”
“What about the innkeeper? You’re playing him, aren’t you? Part of your homeless derelict charity act.”
“He’s none of your business, and you’d better see to it that everyone here is safe. But since I can’t trust you, I took out insurance.” She patted the Glock on her hip. “I want my things returned, including the cash, everything, and I want you gone with your lips sealed. Oh, and remove the GPS tracker from my truck and take it with you. Then, maybe I’ll let you live.”
Liam’s eyes narrowed. “You think you can play in this league?”
“The question is, can you? Cross me, and it’s your funeral.”
Hank was refreshed after his shower, and he knew what he needed to do. Liam’s odd behavior and intrusive questions about Sierra were red flags he couldn’t ignore. Despite needing his help for another week, he couldn’t allow this man to endanger Sierra. Liam had to leave, and soon.
Looking out the window, he saw Sierra arguing with him. Liam shook his head and walked away, but Sierra doggedly pursued him. She seemed angry, and as Liam got into his truck, he threw a black scarf at her.
Sierra picked it up and shoved it into her jacket pocket, and then Liam stalked out of his truck, following her. Hank tore down the stairs with no time to lose, running by his mother, who almost dropped the casserole she was holding.
