Page 11 of Striker

"Why do you need to know that?" I say, a little too quickly.

"Do you have any idea the message a man's tux sends?" She replies.

I look to Nat for help and get nothing but a stern look that says, 'Answer her.'

"I brought you two along to help me pick something out, not to interrogate me."

"It's important," Maddy replies. “Vitally important.”

"Honestly, bro, it really is. I know shit all about tuxes, but even I know that," Nat says.

"Fuck it, I'll just get a rental."

As soon as those words leave my mouth, both my sister and Maddy break into peals of laughter loud enough that half the fucking block turns to look at us in alarm. I feel like I'm surrounded by enemy combatants and completely out of ammunition, out of comms range, and like I have to use the toilet; totally trapped, utterly without a prayer.

"What's so funny?"

“That you think you could bring a rental tux to any Vertucci event. They're rich Italian criminals, Owen. Even their tracksuits are tailor-made."

"You won't even get through the parking lot," Nat says. "One of Michael Vertucci's cousins, Gino Vertucci, got arrested for murder a few years ago because a dealer paid his debt in cash and there were some five-dollar bills in the mix. He shot the guy because he thought he was trying to pass him some counterfeit money. It'd been that long since he'd seen bills that small, and he didn't know what they looked like."

"Fuck me with a dildo made of hand grenades," I mutter. "Fine. I care about Dani the same way I care about you, Nat. She's like family. That's it. I'm only doing this because I don't want her to get hurt, and I owe Smokey for saving my life."

Maddy looks at me for a very long time. People pass by on the sidewalks, some of them giving her long, pause-filled glances as if she might be a street performer pretending to be a statue. Finally, she speaks. "That poor woman. That poor, poor woman."

"What?"

"There's more to it than you're telling me," she says.

As if she can size me up like I'm some asset. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nat crossing her arms. There's a frown on her face, too. What the hell? Bullet's ol' lady and my sister are ganging up on me over absolutely nothing.

"There isn't," I insist. "Dani is just a friend. That's it. That's all."

It's the truth.

Or at least I tell myself that's what it is.

Friend doesn't feel like the right word to describe Danielle Green. Sister is closer to it — she's the sister of the man who is as close to a blood brother as I've ever had — yet still that word doesn't feel accurate, either. There’s something deeper there. Something stronger. Yet I doubt even the connection that she and I share could ever be anything more than a deep friendship. It can’t be. Someone like me, the things I suffered through in the Marines, the things I did to survive… A man like me doesn’t deserve someone as pure as Dani Green.

“No, there’s nothing more to it.” I shake my head, frustrated.

A little confusion about the right term to use for the woman I'm supposed to protect at a Mafia wedding doesn't deserve nearly the reaction that I'm getting from Nat and Maddy.

"You're lying," Nat says. "You're lying, and you're going to get yourself killed for it."

"I'm not lying."

"A Mafia wedding is one of the worst places in the world to fuck around and find out, bro," Nat says. "You're smarter than that. Any drama, any fighting, any extra BS, and you're going to have an army of hitmen up your butt. And not in the fun way, either. Before you even ask how there’s a fun way, I’ll tell you this: I’ve read many books, there definitely is a fun way, and if you really want to know, I’ll send you some links."

"Or you could start a war," Maddy says.

“A war?” I give her a questioning look. "Over what?"

"You don't think a Mafia boss would be upset if you caused a shitstorm at his wedding? It's risky enough that you're going, though I know the MC doesn't run in the same circles as the Vertuccci family — you don't deal drugs, you don't traffic women, you don't prey on the weak — so they probably don't even know who you are, thank god, but if you end up starting something at this wedding, they will find out who you are, who we are, and they will come after us. If I lose my ol' man because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants, I will remove that offending penis from your person and beat you to death with it."

"Only if I don't get to him first," Nat says. Then she smiles and claps her hands. “Oh, it could be like a race. That’d be fun.”

I summon up the same voice I used to answer drill sergeants. It's the voice that speaks without doubt, without fear, without remorse. It's the voice of a Marine ready to die without even blinking, if that's what it takes to complete the mission. "She is only a friend. That's it. I swear on everything that matters to me — on my family, on the club, on my life. I wouldn't do that to Dixon, and I wouldn't do that to you all, either. Danielle Green is only a friend, and that's all she'll ever be."

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