“What? I’m just saying. If you had a dance belt to protect your balls, you could easily pull off the whole ballerina thing with all the…light around you.” The smirk on his face begged to be smashed in.
“First,” I started, “in Italian, it’s called aballerino.”
Lorik seemed enlightened. “Oh, you mean, almost likebambino?”
“No, Lorik. Not likebambino.”
“Bimbo?”
“No! No! Not fucking bimbo.Ballerin—” I paused. “You know what? Fuck it. Let’s just get a drink.”
Lorik grabbed us both around our shoulders. “Man, it feels good to have you two fuckers back under one roof.”
I glanced over my shoulder and saw the smile on Doe’s face as she watched the fucking spectacle that was Lorik. With a knowing look, she silently conveyed to me that she was okay, and I needn’t worry. Karina took her hand, and off they went. Probably to the garden, since Karina knew how much Doe loved it. With winter looming just around the corner, it wouldn’t be long before the garden colors disappeared under a blanket of white.
For the rest of the day, Lorik, Dante, and I spent our time catching up, talking shit, and drinking bourbon. It felt good to see my brother again, but a part of me still argued that his place was with Layla and Rafe. Ultimately, it was his decision.
“Where are they?” I asked Dante as he sat across from me nursing his third glass of bourbon.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
Dante swirled the auburn-colored liquid around in his glass. “I told Layla not to tell me where they were going.” He shrugged. “Just in case shit got real.”
I nodded. “Good call, brother. But they have a protection detail?”
“Yes. Lucio figured that all out for us.”
I snorted. Of course, our stubborn, know-it-all cousin was in on this as well.
“Talking about Lucio, where is the little fucker?” Dante took a sip from his drink.
I rubbed circles around the rim of my glass. “He’s out doing a few things for me.”
“What things?” Dante narrowed his eyes at me. I had to tread carefully. If there was anyone who had the ability to see right through me, it was my little brother. A part of me wanted to tell him about Mancuso. About how I jabbed my blade into his skull. I wanted to tell my brother that our archenemy was dead, that our family—our dad—had finally been avenged. But I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t risk Doe finding out about Mancuso, and that her dad and the man who sold her were one and the same.
“Things that ensure Doe’s safety.”
Dante shifted in his seat. “So, she’s the real deal?”
“If by that you mean my woman, then yes.”
“And Vadik?”
Lorik leaned forward in his seat. “Fucker hasn’t shown his face yet. I’m wondering what his MO is.”
I gulped down the rest of my drink. Talking about the fucker made me nervous. He was out there. And I had something he desperately wanted back. Chances were he would strike any day, and all I could do to keep Doe safe was to get that fucking chip out of her neck without her knowing, and then amp up the ammo around her. Other than that, we were pretty much flying fucking blind.
I stood and refilled my glass, my mind scattered with thoughts of everything that could possibly go wrong. Just the thought of Vadik getting close to Doe ever again had me seeing images of his fucking intestines hanging over the crystal chandelier in my goddamn dining room.
“Any word on Mancuso?” Dante asked, and a memory of Stefano’s dead body popped into my head. I swore to God I almost had a fucking orgasm just thinking about how it felt when my knife sliced through his motherfucking head. Jesus, I was borderline bipolar. Going from wanting to slice someone’s guts out, to coming in my pants while thinking of a dead body. I needed more than just a bottle of bourbon.
“So?” Dante pushed for an answer. “No news on Mancuso?”
“No.” My answer was clipped, the subject not open for discussion.
“I suppose we have bigger things to worry about at the moment.”