Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
It’s whatever now. She’s with Bastian, I’m…stuck with a man and his ex-wife and here we fucking are.
This champagne is really not going to cut it. Especially since Delta has officially waved him over. Not that he needs an invitation, yet I know he’s accepted it as one when the heat of his body envelops mine from behind.
“Ms. DeLeon.” He tips his head. “You know my sister, Katana.”
I don’t allow myself to tense.
Of course he had to drag her over here with him.
I’d like to reach back and punch him in his dick.
“Of course.” Delta gives a teasing bow, meeting my stare before settling on Katana with what I’m proud to say is more of a musing smile. “Come with me,” she tells her. “I’ll introduce you to a few other first years who made the cut tonight.”
Delta doesn’t wait for her, and I grit my teeth when Katana looks to Enzo for permission.
He tips his chin and off she fucking goes.
Instantly, his gaze swings back to me, heated with anger and annoyance.
“You forgot to tell her what a good girl she was, asking for your permission like that.” I speak before he can.
His brows jerk together instantly, but before he can say a word, and it’s easy to see the man has a lot on his mind, his eyes jerk over my head.
“Behave, or Katana won’t be the only person who bleeds tonight,” he manages to whisper without so much as moving his mouth.
Not a moment later, none other than Philip Mitchell saunters up, his grin wide as he ignores the man to my left, solely focused on me.
Well. This could be fun.
Chapter
Twelve
Boston
“Boston, such a queen.” He opens his arms as if for a hug, but Enzo’s swift arm snaking around my middle in that exact moment has him lowering them with a laugh. “Always a pleasure to see you.” He beams.
“You know, I agree.” I smile back, and it only grows when Enzo not-so-subtly yanks me closer to his chest. “I wonder if this time around will be as entertaining as the last.”
He chuckles, winking and moving his jacket slightly to show he’s more prepared now, with his gun holstered on his hip.
The Enterprise isn’t federal ground, so a concealed handgun license is the only excuse we need if caught with weapons by the handful by actual upstanding citizens littered around the room.
“How about you?” His eyes trail over my dress and Enzo literally growls, drawing his attention back to my face, humor dancing across his features.
“I was already pushed to my limit tonight and got mine dirty.” Enzo stiffens behind me and I hold in my smirk as I say, “Daddy took it away after that.”
With a fake pout, I look up at Enzo.
Philip’s laughter is loud and gains us attention, but it’s worth the murderous look in Enzo’s eyes. It may not seem like a total dig considering, but calling out the fact Philip is younger than Enzo, not by all that much but younger no less, is a soft kick to his pride whether Enzo cares or not.
He doesn’t, but the insinuation he’s old can be interpreted many ways. Always in the worst when the person they’re spoken to is looking for a reason to feel bigger and badder than the man himself…even when he’s not.
Enzo’s hand on my stomach is damn near trembling in rage but fuck him.
“Watch yourself, Mitchell. A room full of clean cops wouldn’t even stop me if I felt the need to put a bullet between your eyes.” Enzo’s warning is calmly spoken, and Philip’s features harden on the man at my back.
Before Philip can make a retort that might get him put on his ass tonight, a second and third man join our little powwow.
I recognize them instantly, straightening my spine and softening my expression out of habit in order to seem unthreatening. Indulgent.
Reggie Moore, member of the eastern district, and once was second to the hidden Henley family. Traditionally run mafia family, as in unlike Enzo, my father, and many others, the Moore family doesn’t play the I’m but a businessman routine to the outside world. They simply make sure there’s no evidence left behind to claim otherwise…even though he’s sitting on millions, his only legit business is an old mattress shop in his hometown.
The other is Christof Galley, head of the Galley organization. They’re the go-to for intel, master private investigators with informants and jail rats all over reporting back to them. They likely have more blackmail material than the Playboy bunnies of the past, and that’s saying something. Some call them snakes since they slither their way through, searching for the body or the bomb that leads to the payout, so in a lot of ways, they are. But you don’t hunt for wolves in a field of wildflowers.