Page 97 of The Woman on the Jury

“Think so,” Joe agreed, nodding. “She came out of the penthouse like a different person today,” he added.

“Different how?” I asked.

“Dunno. I mean, I’ve been with her every day since she moved in,” Joe said, and I didn’t correct him. “She was always just real nice. She came out all cold and calculated today. Tony tried to stop her, grabbed her arm. Not hard,” he clarified. “Just trying to stop her from just walking into the elevator. And she turned, all ice queen, and said you’d be pissed if he put his hands on her.”

She wasn’t wrong about that.

I would break his fucking hands if he put a bruise on her.

And not think twice about it, either.

“Then she said she was leaving, and it was up to us to go with her or not.”

“So you went,” Miko concluded.

“She had her mind made up, man,” Tony said.

“Then, when we got to the store and she picked up the box, I figured it was, you know, an emergency kinda situation,” Joe said.

“Also figured it might be what the mood was about,” Tony added, getting another eye roll out of Miko.

“Anyway, when she didn’t come out in five minutes, we got worried,” Joe said. “Went down the hallway, knocked on the door, called her name. When she didn’t answer, we went in. And she was gone.”

“Fuck,” I hissed, turning away from them, stalking down the street a bit, too antsy to stand still.

Five minutes wasn’t a long time.

But the city was, objectively, small. And crowded. She could have gotten way the fuck out of there in that time.

She could be anywhere.

“Going to her shop,” I said, rushing toward Silvano’s car.

“Right behind you,” Miko said, slapping his hand into Joe’s chest, making him and Tony snap to and follow him.

It was a short drive, but it felt like for-fucking-ever as my heart slammed against my ribcage, my stomach twisting itself into knots.

Why the fuck would she leave?

Not only leave, but leave her guards? Risk her safety?

“What’d you do to her?” Silvano asked, making my head whip over.

Because it was the same question I’d been asking myself.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

I mean, I’d broken her door down. But that seemed all forgiven when she melted into me, when she’d writhed against me, when she’d moaned, and her pussy spasmed around my cock.

“You’re fucking her.”

It wasn’t a question, but I went ahead and answered anyway. “Yes.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Look, can’t claim I have any more experience with this shit than you do, but I’m closer to the Family these days. I see things.”

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