10. Unexpected
ten
Unexpected
Brandi stared out the windshield at the practically glowing flower shop before them. The building was so new the paint still seemed to be glowing, despite that she was aware the storefront had opened to business months ago. She let her seatbelt slide over her as another wave of nerves had her shifting in her seat. “Why did you bring me to a flower shop?” It wasn’t like they had to pick out arrangements for a proper wedding.
“Do you not like flowers?” Mikey asked.
She shifted in her seat, a spiral of heat winding through her when their gazes locked. She pressed her thighs together. Mikey had been entirely serious earlier. Their escort had already pulled in to the parking spot beside him, and she knew if her father had been home when they’d gone by the house, they would be there instead of parked in this business lot. A fact which would have made her current state of fullness somehow even more indecent.
Brandi forced her mind away from that slippery slope as best she could and replied, “I like them fine, I suppose.”
His lips lifted in a shadow of a smile. “Let’s go inside, and you can show me what appeals to you. I’ll buy you something pretty.”
Her chest warmed in a way that was different, yet felt complimentary, to the sensation further south. “You don’t have to do that.”
He popped open his door. “I’m going to. But this isn’t something I have an eye for, so if you make me make the choice, you’ll end up with something cliché or boring. Your call.”
She imagined sending him alone and watching him come out with a bouquet of bright red roses or whatever prearranged, colorful thing he spotted first. Or maybe he’d go for an all-white look on purpose. She liked color in her flowers, that was one of the few things she knew, and she wasn’t much for a standard rose. Probably because she thought they were so unoriginal. So she sighed and hurried out of the car. If he was going to insist on getting flowers either way, she was only being needlessly stubborn by refusing to go in and make a choice for herself.
Mikey pulled the storefront door open for her and brought his other hand up to the small of her back in a steady, gentle touch.
They got about three feet down the main aisle before a warm feminine voice called out, “Welcome to Snap—oh!”
Brandi glanced toward the speaker, the woman’s odd declaration and clear surprise confusing her. She found a beautiful redhead smiling out at them and moving toward the partition that separated the employee space from the shopping area.
Mikey’s arm curved until his hand rested over Brandi’s hip in a faintly heavier, more possessive touch. “Hi, Iris. You really don’t have to get up on my account, I know my way around.”
Iris?
“Of course I have to get up,” the redhead replied, stepping fully into view and revealing a well-rounded pregnancy belly. “I’m not going to meet my newest sister-in-law from behind a counter.”
Mikey chuckled and guided them forward even as recognition dawned over Brandi.
Holy crap! The redhead was Iris De Salvo. She was the Dragon’s wife. He could have told me! Brandi knew the De Salvos as a family owned at least close to a dozen businesses throughout the county, most of them nestled right in Newark, but she’d never bothered memorizing each and every one. Let alone whether any of them were owned by the wives or what those wives looked like. She wasn’t, to her father’s perpetual disappointment, actually some sort of spy.
Mikey calmly made introductions, confirming what Brandi had only just put together.
Iris smiled and held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry to hear what happened to you recently.”
Brandi shook her hand and told herself to be as unawkward as possible—which of course never worked. “Likewise.” She winced. “I mean, thank you.”
Iris rested her hands over her belly, her smile unwavering. “What kind of flowers do you like?”
They were actually going to talk about that? Brandi glanced around what she could see of the shop and finally said, “I’m not sure. Colorful ones?”
Iris laughed softly. “Well, I think we can help with that.” She motioned further into the store, shifting her gaze to Mikey. “Why don’t you show her the fresh display down there? I promised to minimize my walking, so I can’t go with you.”
Mikey nodded. “Don’t push yourself, sis.” He stepped back and pulled Brandi with him, guiding her in the direction Iris had indicated. They walked right past two rows of potted flowers and a wall of climbing greens, until he rounded a corner and was standing her in front of a display of color. “Look around, tell me what you like.”
Brandi drank it in, her eyes bouncing from shining pinks to dreamy blues to glowing yellows and so many more shades of color and shapes of petals. She didn’t have names for most of them. She let her feet carry her forward, the blended aromas of the flowers’ fragrance like a sweet perfume in the air. Soon she spotted something familiar. A flower she could name, and one she remembered she’d always been drawn to. “This one,” she said as she moved toward it. “The zinnias. These are the ones I’ve always liked.”
Mikey came up behind her, his hands settling on her hips. “You did say you liked color.”
She leaned into him on instinct. “I still don’t understand. Did you actually bring me here to introduce me to your sister-in-law?”
He chuckled low. “That was a perk, but no. I actually brought you here to learn what kind of flowers you like.” His lips brushed over her temple and teased the shell of her ear. “I want you to feel comfortable in the house. It’s yours now, too. I thought if there was something out in the open, visible, that you brought in, maybe it would help.”
Heat pulsed through her from the touch of his lips. Warmth echoed in her chest from his words. “I think I was pretty comfortable earlier.”
He squeezed her hips and lowered his voice until it vibrated her skin. “There are a lot of rooms left to defile, kitten.”
She was already choking on an inappropriate moan when his last word registered in her brain. A confused, indignant sound strangled out of her even as he took a half-step back and she turned to face him. She had no clue what her face was doing, but she managed to keep her voice to hushed hiss. “ Kitten ?”
He smirked and folded her hand in his. “Well I wasn’t going to use anything with ‘sweet.’ And it suits you.” He tugged her with him back down the walkway.
“How—” She caught sight of another customer browsing an adjacent aisle and lowered her voice. “How does it suit me?” She paused. “The other part I appreciate. I don’t know if I ever would have liked that sort of overly affectionate name, but now…” It would be a long time, probably, before she stopped hearing it in Ralph George’s voice.
Mikey laced his fingers with hers. “If you hate it, I’ll think of something else.”
“I didn’t say I hated it.”
Iris smiled at them as they approached the counter. “Find what you were looking for?”
“Zinnias,” Mikey replied. “How many can I get?”
Brandi balked. “Just something for the kitchen would be plenty.” Did this man do everything over-the-top?
Iris tapped something out of sight. “I’ve got about four dozen ready to sell. That really would be a lot if you don’t know what you want to do with them.”
“I’ve got a lot of space.” He tipped his head. “I’ll take three, and can I have a replacement order set up to be delivered in a month?”
Brandi felt her eyebrows disappear into her hairline. “Have you completely lost your mind? What if you hate them?”
Iris laughed softly. “You’ll get used to it.” She turned her smile back up to Mikey. “I can get all of that set up. Do you want recurring shipments, or just the one replacement?”
Brandi had no idea how to respond to that.
“Book me at least three months,” Mikey said. “If we’re ready for a change by then, I’ll let Megan know.”
Iris tapped the thing they couldn’t see again. “All set. Are you waiting to bring them home yourself or do you want them delivered?”
“Delivery. You know I’m not that patient.”
Brandi bit down on her tongue to keep from snorting with laughter.
Iris let her amusement show as she handed over a receipt. “Your delivery should arrive in about two hours. I went ahead and charged the card on file.”
Mikey scrawled his signature on the necessary line, took his copy, and promised to see her soon before nudging Brandi out the door.
When they were back in the car, Brandi said, “Holy crap. Did you do something I need to know about? There are women who automatically assume that any flowers are a sign of guilt, and you just went and bought three dozen for the next three months !”
Mikey laughed. His head tipped back against the seat, his shoulders shook, and the car filled with the air-warming, skin-tingling sound of his amusement. He grinned at her and reached over, stroking his fingers down the curve of her throat. “I’ve done a lot of things most men would feel guilty for,” he said. “But this isn’t that. This is just something for you.”
She felt herself flush. “Why?”
The blue of his eyes seemed to glow in the afternoon sun. “Because you deserve it.”
“Good afternoon, Michele.” The voice on the phone was tight with discomfort, probably also displeasure. Both were understandable. Their allegiance, such as it was, was not necessarily from the basis of mutual respect or with the intention of equal partnership. All of which made the fact that the chief of police was calling Mikey’s personal cell phone that much more alarming. “I hope now isn’t a bad time.”
Mikey closed out of the program he’d been working in and rolled back from his desk. It was true he’d come into his office in search of a distraction from his newfound obsession with his fiancée, but this was not the one he’d wanted. “Chief Silva, I can’t say I was expecting to hear from you. Is there something you need?”
Chief of Police Rodrigo Silva wasn’t what most would consider a bad man. Nor was he a good, clean, upright police officer. The few shady things he’d been caught with his hand sufficiently buried in had been more than enough of a basis for the original blackmail material years earlier. If the man had done his damnedest to press forward as a clean cop since, pretending the De Salvos simply didn’t exist altogether, he’d probably have solid groundwork for fighting back. But he hadn’t. That was his problem. He was weak. He succumbed to temptation, and got in over his head, and so the cycle continued.
It worked out better for one side than the other, and they all knew it. That was just how Dante wanted things.
Silva cleared his throat roughly. “I’ll get right to it,” he said. “As far as I’m aware, this doesn’t strictly involve you or yours … but I’m having trouble getting hold of someone connected to you.”
Mikey frowned, but opted to continue listening.
“Earlier this week, an employee of yours had her car and her credit cards stolen. Fuck knows why she was out on Hogue to begin with, but—”
“Did you find the car?” Mikey asked, cutting the grumbling man off.
Silva hesitated. “You’re aware of the situation?”
Mikey ground his teeth. “Yes, I’m aware of the goddamn situation. Brandi Richardson is my fucking fiancée, who do you think she called when she couldn’t get off Hogue Street?”
The older man made a distinctly startled noise, grunted, and shuffled something in the background. “Well … maybe that makes more sense, then…”
“ Silva ,” Mikey snapped. “Did you or did you not find her car? Or at least a lead on the assholes who took it from her?”
“All of the above.”
Mikey sat back in his seat. “Keep talking.”
“We have Ms. Richardson’s car,” the chief said, “but it’s been stripped and trashed. I’m not sure it’s not part of a crime scene now, though I am sure that would have occurred after she lost possession of it.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Silva continued. “The more unusual part, I thought, was that we also found one of the men we believe to be responsible for the original carjacking and … well, I’ll be frank. He’s identified himself as a member of the Ink Blots.”
“Motherfucker.” Mikey shoved to his feet to pace off the sudden restless energy. And to take himself away from the expensive, fragile things within reach of his fist. “Ramires? Barros?” Rumor had it Barros might have been doing time in another part of the state for a parole violation, but they’d never been sure it was the same man. Ramires hadn’t shown his face in the city since the previous fall, though occasionally his name still came up in connection to the gang. Often enough that they were confident he was still connected and functioning.
“No, definitely not,” Silva said. “Just some punk looking for street cred. I thought it was random, honestly. Wrong place, wrong time. But the Blots and the De Salvos have been at war for a while now, so maybe it wasn’t so random after all.”
Mikey clenched his free hand into a tight fist. “What about the other two? Brandi said there were at least three hijackers.”
“We’ve only found the one.” Silva paused. “Is there … something in particular you’d like us to do with him?”
Mikey drew a long breath. “I want the whole crew and answers. So tell the one you have that we’ll let him stay in police custody and ride that out, if he rolls on the other two. Names, descriptions, best guesses on where we can find them. All of it. When you get that from him, you give that information to me. If he cooperates, that one’s yours. Have a field day. Brandi’s gonna be pissed about her car, too.”
“All right. I’ll let you know how that goes.” He disconnected immediately.
Mikey slammed his fist—phone in hand—into the wall. “Fuck!” The chief was probably right with his theory about her carjacking being random. The Ink Blots were a street gang, they fucked with a lot of people and did stupid ass shit. Like taking a nice car and easy money from a defenseless woman.
When it had happened, he’d tried telling himself he was mad at her for having gone to that area of town in the first place. Then everything with George had hit and he’d put the carjacking from his mind. But the truth was, he’d been furious—with the bastards who’d pulled a gun on someone he had already come to care for, who’d left her stranded and vulnerable and fucking scared. He just hadn’t had anything to do with that, or really known how to process it.
Someone tapped on his office door and Brandi poked her head in. “Um, everything okay? I’m not used to you scream-cursing.”
He grunted. “Shut the door.” Not that they had a house full of people who could eavesdrop. Life was just easier with fewer possibilities.
Brandi scooted inside and eased the door shut without argument.
Mikey raked his gaze over her while she moved. Fuck, they both had already realized how lucky she was that those gangsters hadn’t tried to take her with them. Or just tried to force her down right on the roadside. They’d been armed, they’d outnumbered her, and she hadn’t been prepared. But thinking about it all over again was making him as angry as it had the first time.
“You really look mad,” Brandi said. She stepped closer, her brow furrowed. “And you’re being weird. Seriously, Mikey, what’s wrong?” She reached down and worked his phone from his hand with nimble fingers. “Why don’t we set this down before you Hulk-smash it to smithereens, okay? Then we can sit on that sofa I’m still not convinced you don’t sleep on and have a calm conversation.”
He watched her set the phone on his desk, then let her take him by the hand and lead the way to the couch that he did, in fact, sleep on probably more often than anyone would be happy about. He expected her to settle a comfortable distance from him, somewhere within reach but without crowding.
She sat up against his side and pulled both his hands into her lap, as if she felt the need to hold him in place. The worry on her face made his chest hurt.
Mikey dragged in a breath. “The police found your car.”
Her eyes widened for a beat, before confusion dipped her brow. “And they called you?”
“They couldn’t reach you, so I guess when they saw where you work, they called me.”
She let out a breath. “Well, that works out, anyway.” She pursed her lips together. “Wait, do you own the police, too?”
His lips twitched with a bitter chuckle. “Only most of them.”
Brandi sighed and leaned her shoulder into his. “Because that’s normal.” She aimed a grin at him that had his blood heating. “Okay. So they found my car.”
Mikey held tighter to her hands. “It’s destroyed,” he said plainly. The disappointment that soured her face only reinforced his mood. “They also found one of the men responsible, so we might be able to get hands on the other two.” He paused for a second. “Are you familiar with the Ink Blots?”
She blinked at him. “The—the gang, right? I’ve heard the name. Is that the gang those jerks were with?”
Mikey nodded.
Confusion once again contorted her expression. “Don’t get me wrong, but what does that change? We already knew the guys who stole my car were gangsters, or at least presented like they were.”
“That’s where it gets complicated.” He’d actually hoped not to burden her with this at least until George was off the board. He supposed that had been na?ve. “In street terms, the family is at war with the Ink Blots. Have been for a while now.”
Her mouth popped open. “Sorry, what?”
Mikey rolled his jaw, debating how best to answer, and finally said, “The Ink Blots are supported by a piece of shit named Brendan Coughlan. He’s the last blood of an Irish Mob that picked a fight with our family a long time ago. The Coughlans lost in the end, but not before they took from us. Brendan survived because he was a kid when it happened, like we were. Except where we learned to move forward from that, he apparently held a grudge. Last year he let his pet project loose on the city, targeting us, and we’ve been playing bloodstained tag with the fuckers ever since. Every time we cross one of their names off, they go dormant for a while. It’s a giant fucking headache, and we haven’t yet found Coughlan himself.”
Brandi was silent for several seconds, her mouth a thin line and her fingers clutching tighter to his hands. At length, she finally said, “So you’re saying I was targeted … just for working with you?”
He scoffed. “I can’t rule it out, but it’s possible your experience was genuinely bad luck.”
“Because they’re a real gang, doing real-gang-shit, who just happen to aim the worst of it at those flying the De Salvo flag.”
“Exactly.”
She released a breath. “Which now includes me.”
Mikey pulled his hands from hers to frame her face, tilting her up to look into his eyes. “One enemy or one hundred, that doesn’t change my promise. I never said I would protect you only from the man who hurt you last week.”
Her hands settled on his chest and she smiled. “I would have been pretty stupid to think the mafia guy I was agreeing to marry never made any enemies.”
“You would have.” He leaned in, sliding his fingers into her hair. “And you’re not.”
She smiled wider. “Were you really all upset for my sake?”
Mikey grunted and covered her lips with his.