Well, I just couldn’t resist.
But now, I see that I jumped the gun. I did everything backwards. Leaping into a scorching sexual relationship with her before I ever took her on a date. Not getting the don’s permission.
Not waiting until her broken heart over her ex had mended.
Now, as I toss back another Tanqueray and tonic, I’ve never felt so disconnected or alone. I’m not an American, not like them. I’m not actual family—at least not a blood relation—to any of them.
Summer complained she didn’t know me, and I suppose it’s true. No one here really understands me. Hell, do I even know myself?
“Want to play another game?” Sonny stands beside me, rubbing chalk on the tip of his pool cue.
“Nah.”
“Oh shit…”
My gaze shoots up to follow Sonny’s. Alexei’s walking toward me with purpose. He looks high and furious as hell.
Sonny and I both palm our guns. Alexei would’ve been patted down for a gun by security at the door, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one hidden somewhere. The moment he arrives, the Russian cocks his fist and lets it fly.
I block and deliver an uppercut to the gut. The Russian doubles over. Sonny presses the barrel of his gun behind the guy’s ear.
“Walk to the back. Al doesn’t like any scenes in here.” We frog march the guy straight out the back door to the alleyway where Sonny and I let him go. “What the fuck?”
Alexei lunges for me again. Sonny follows, keeping his gun pressed to the guy’s head. The Russian’s pupils are tiny dots, his face unnaturally pale. The guy must’ve snorted five lines. He wraps his fist in my shirt. “Where is she?”
“Who, the girl?”
“Of course, the girl. Where is she? I need her back.”
“You’re not getting her back. She was mine, and I got rid of her. End of story.”
“You gave her to the cops.” He spits a little as he rasps in his thick Russian accent.
“Fuck you. Why would I give her to the cops, asshole? I used her, I sent her on her way. If the cops picked her up, that’s not on me.”
Alexei’s eyes narrow to slits, and his breath hisses in and out of his nose. A bit of saliva gathers at the corner of his mouth. He says something in Russian that is obviously a string of insults.
I punch him in the stomach again. Sonny smacks the handle of his gun against the Russian’s head.
“Get the fuck out of here. If I see your face here or at my game again, you’re a dead man.” I punch him one more time.
The guy crumples a little, but the drugs keep him from feeling much. We leave him in the alleyway and lock the door, letting Leo, the security guard know to never let him in again.
“He’s gonna be trouble,” Sonny warns as we walk toward Joey’s office. “We shoulda capped him.”
My nape prickles. Sonny’s probably right. We haven’t seen the last of the Russian.
We walk to the office in the back and tap on the door.
“Come in.”
Cigar smoke fills the room, and Don Al sits in Joey’s leather captain’s chair, puffing on a cigar. Pauly, Bobby and Vince all lounge around, shooting the shit with him. Joey must be home with Sophie.
I plan on filling Al in on the situation with Alexei, but not when they’re all lounging around like this.
“Hey guys.” I accept the handshakes from the other men.
“Ah, here’s the guy who’s been keeping secrets.” Vince’s been drinking. He always had a bone to pick with me, acting like I don’t deserve the position I have. He seems to think he ought to be in my shoes. But he’s not that bright and makes bad decisions. Consistently. So even though he’s family, he hasn’t risen in the organization.
“What secrets?” Al’s gaze is sharp.
I shrug. The only thing on my mind is the crazy fucking Russian and forgetting about Summer.
“Why don’t you tell him?”
My lip curls. I’m not in the mood for one of Vince’s challenges tonight. Hell, I’d gladly flatten the bastard. “Tell him what?”
“That you’re fucking his daughter.”
Oh, hell no.
Rage turns my vision to red. Nobody disrespects Summer like that. My body springs into action before thought even registers my decision. Our bodies crash to the floor with a thud, my fist smashing into Vince’s face. “You don’t ever talk about her that way,” I growl through clenched teeth. I deliver another punch to Vince’s jaw twice before I catch a blow to the mouth that busts my lip.
“Get him off.” Don Al’s tone holds heat. Which I guess is better than frost.
Pauly and Bobby haul me up and hold my arms, lifting me to face the Don.
Al walks around from behind the desk, his face a mask of anger. “Is that true?”
I yank my arm out of Pauly’s grasp and wipe blood from my chin with the back of his hand. “I’m not fucking her. We were…” What? What can I possibly say that will keep the don from shooting me?