Page 14 of The Twins

Grey takes her time, which makes me wonder. The staff shoots me curious gazes as they come and go with our plates. I don’t comment, awarding them with an unsatisfied glare.

I’ll be rude until my woman comes back to me.

She’s not in Guadalajara. She’s a couple of seconds away from me, doing her thing in the restroom. I don’t have to worry.

There’s no need to call up the guys.

But I do.

I need a distraction before I storm the women’s restroom.

“How’s it going?” I ask my brother as soon as he picks up the line.

“We were late,” Remo says, sighing down the line. “They were gone by the time Tara got to them.”

Ever since Tara came back from her sex vacation, she’s been a little off. Then again, someone in my family is always off. I can’t blame Tara for the mission’s failure.

“What’s next?” Our bond allows us to communicate on a different level. He won’t ask about Grey just yet, but I’m sure he’s aware that something’s bothering me.

“We set up more fake profiles, and we create an outline of their network. We have huge chunks of it already, but we need to close the circle before we finish them off. We’re missing a key component,” Remo explains. He’s an unofficial assistant to the PP task force, short for pedo perv. I came up with that name. My family is too dull to think of something so illustrious.

We refer to men who abuse vulnerable young girls and boys in the streets and mansions of LA as pedo pervs. My family’s task force is working to make the biggest bust of the past decade.

A scandalous bust.

There’s a lot at stake, big names with friends in high places.

Corruption, my favorite drug.

Apart from my sugar puff, that is.

While under contract with the LAPD, my family’s doubling down on their responsibilities by spying for the feds. Sketchy things are underway in LA, and the PP task force is on the cusp of uncovering it all.

Remo asks, “Where’s Grey?”

“Ladies’ room.”

“Give her a kiss from me?” We’re suckers for this girl.

“I will.”

“Vegas?”

“Yes?”

“Do you miss San Ricardo?”

“I love Grey.”

“I know you do, but do you miss home?”

“It’s not home if she’s not there.” With an absent mind, I gaze at our food. I won’t touch it until she’s here.

He exhales, and I catch a frequency of despair I’m not used to from my brother. Sure, we have a bond, but between you and me, I don’t see my brother as clearly as I see other people. I wish I did. Other than Grey, he’s the most important person in my life. He grounds me when I’m a prick—which occurs relatively often.

“I… I feel that,” Remo says, but he’s holding back.

“Is there something you wish to tell me?” I ask him, extending an olive branch. When we’re childish, we tend to communicate through our woman. Before she rejoined our lives, Remo and I didn’t click. I was a bitch. He felt lost in LA.

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