Page 32 of Mafia Captor

I watch her wrap her arm around her brother’s back, leading him toward the garden. I’m assuming she’ll take him for a tour. She fell in love with the house, the property, the staff, in a matter of hours. Pride was wide and deep inside me while I was showing her around.

She more than approved of all the renovation choices I made.

It felt good.

It felt like the only piece of art I’m missing in this house is a curvy little blonde.

We’ll get matters cleared up soon, and they’ll both be on their way. The thought lodges a stone in my throat. She’s been here all of what? A couple hours? And I can’t imagine the place without her.

God, am I soft, I’m a damn marshmallow thanks to her.

I let them go, let her get Beck settled. Just before he enters the gate in the garden wall, he turns, giving me a farewell wave over his shoulder. The kid is probably starving for bro time. I’ll see what I can do to cut his apron strings loose. At least let him in on one of our pickup basketball games before he leaves. We often draw blood.

Boy, would that piss Ashe off.

I can see her now, her hands on those full hips. The thought makes me hard. I’ve never been this damn horny in my life. I’ve got to get my head back in the game.

Time to go see what the boys have found out about our friend in the SUV.

Wait…

Fuck.

The cat.

Before I dive into work, I’ve got to talk to Talia. Tell her about her new roommate. Then get the damn furball to her place. I guess plotting murders will have to hit the back burner. Giorgio needs housing. Exactly why I didn’t want to get tangled up with a woman. You have to take care of their cats.

I don’t have time for this kind of thing.

Instead of polishing my Glock G19, I find myself tracking Talia down, giving her specific instructions, emphasizing how important it is that the cat is well cared for. I’m looking up numbers for professionals that can help move the cat from her place to Talia’s without traumatizing the furball.

Finally, after hours that felt like days, I’m ready to do some real work.

I whistle for Champ, my German shepherd. He’s a retired police dog and the most well-trained animal I have. He goes with me on every run. Sometimes, seeing him in the bed of my truck is all it takes to get the money I’m collecting. I don’t hurt people unless I’m forced to.

He jumps in the bed, and I slam the tailgate shut. He’s the only one of my dogs I allow to ride back here. He likes the freedom, and he looks damn intimidating when we pull up.

My gun goes in the glovebox. We make our rounds, get our cash. No one gets hurt.

Cause for a celebration.

I’m starving. I open the passenger door for Champ after letting him down from the bed. “Hop in, bud. Time to get some grub.”

His tail wags. He knows exactly where we’re going.

I pull into the drive-thru of our favorite burger place, twenty miles from my house and worth every minute of the drive. A double for me, a single for Champ. And a bacon burger to take back to Beckett.

After a run, I’m used to kicking it alone or with the dogs. If I’m lucky and Booker’s in town, we’ll shoot hoops. Today, I find myself looking for Ashe. I locate her on her hands and knees in the guest shower, showing my cleaning team how to clean grout with a toothbrush. You’d think they’d resent her showing up and changing their routine, but they’re loving her, laughing with her, trying her technique.

It’s like she’s been here forever.

She sees me standing there.

“Hey, Boston! You looking for me?” She wipes her hands on the coveralls she found, standing up. She goes to the sink to wash her hands.

“Yeah… ah…” I try to think of something. I was looking for her but not for any particular reason. “There’s something I needed to show you.”

“Okay.” She says goodbye to the team, following me from the room. “Where are you coming back from?”

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