Chapter 20 Stan
TWENTY
STAN
Knowing that I wouldn’t relax until I set eyes on Kitty, I stormed from one side of Martinez’s throne room to the other.
It spoke a lot of our ‘friendship’ that he didn’t stop me.
If anything, it confirmed that this wouldn’t lead to any of us being shot in the head and thrown into the Gulf of Mexico.
Reassuring.
When Martinez joined me in my pacing, I barely refrained from glowering at him as he passed me my phone, especially once I realized I’d received a text from Luigi.
Luigi: This warehouse, boss, they have a lot of people coming in and out of it. Need me to track the numbers? Get one of the guys to put names to faces?
Well aware Martinez read over my shoulder, I didn’t bother shielding the screen, simply typed out:
Me: Se
“A man of few words, interesting.”
When I went to tuck my phone into my pocket, Martinez clucked his tongue and held out his hand. I scowled at him but gave the damn thing to him.
“You’re not as well controlled as your siblings,” he commented a few laps in.
“Is that a statement or a question?”
“Statement. But then, you are the baby of the family, are you not?”
“Yes.”
“The babies are always trouble. In your case, at least you’re the most helpful.”
“I am?”
“I’ve heard of your creations.”
I paused. “They’re not up for debate.”
“Why not? I want to talk distribution.” He raised his hands in peace, and slowly I resumed pacing. “But your rudeness did accelerate this discussion.”
“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?!”
He laughed, but it was genuine and not annoyed. “I already accepted your begrudging apology.”
I shoved my hands behind my back so I didn’t punch him. “It isn’t begrudging.”
“Isn’t it?” His expression turned mocking. “You were right earlier. We only recently overtook this territory.”
“You should call my brother to discuss distribution.”
“It was on my to-do list. As I said, you accelerated matters.”
I dismissed that. “Why do you need to meet with the Frasier sisters?”
“It’s always wise to have the chess pieces on the board before you move them. Plus, Eva’s right to be concerned. Whatever you’re doing with them, I don’t want it to happen on my turf.”
“She—they,” I quickly corrected, “aren’t playing a game. They’re on vacation.”
“Yes, but you’re not, are you? If anything, I’d say it’s quite the opposite.
” He skewered me in place like a lepidopterist would a butterfly.
“You should work on your poker face. You’re easy to read and she’s a developing weakness.
And I say this as one friend with a weakness to another.
” He glanced at his heavily pregnant wife, who scowled at me like I’d pissed in her Cornflakes this morning.
Everyone knew Martinez’s depths were Stygian and that his wife was his Cerberus.
“But weaknesses can be strengths if you let them flourish.”
My brow puckered, but I didn’t have time to comment as a door slammed somewhere in the room and the sounds of sneakers and heels finally pounded on the marbled floor.
Attention shifting, I focused on the newcomers and released a relieved sigh when Kitty rushed deeper into the space where Martinez held court, head whipping from side to side as she sought me out.
The difference between the woman I’d met today and the one striding toward me bordered on chimerical.
Hell, the difference between those two women and the angel who’d stood in the doorway to my private hospital room was enormous too.
How many personalities did she possess?
And why did I want to memorize each and every one of them?
“Stan,” she cried, rushing over to me with such ease that my heart soared before it sank—this woman wasn’t supposed to feel fear.
It was already my fucking duty to eradicate it from her life.
I opened my arms to her, grateful when she settled inside them. I half-expected her to be trembling but she wasn’t. She clung to me, yes, but she turned her head to spit at Martinez, “Your watchdog is insane.”
The Lobos Rojos’ leader’s brows lifted. “Miguel?”
“Yes. He killed a man. Who does that when you can maim someone?”
Martinez released a delighted laugh. “Well, isn’t that the most philosophical question I’ve heard in a long while?”
“If you’d shown more patience, you’d have seen me bite his ear off, Miguel!” Kitty scowled at the man who sauntered past her sisters and toward us. “Instead of cleanup of gang roadkill on aisle two.”
“I’m sure you would have succeeded, gattaredda.” Kissing her forehead, and beyond proud of her fire, I held her tightly then studied her sisters, who hovered under a marble arch, neither fully in the room, just on the outskirts.
One of them smiled coyly at the ‘watchdog,’ while the other looked like she wanted to crawl into a bed and hide for a year.
“Now what?” I directed at Martinez.
“You’re lucky that my husband doesn’t find you impolite, Custanzu,” Eva growled. “But you’re grating on my last nerve. Watch your tongue.”
Kitty stiffened. “And you are?”
“Higher up the ranks than you.”
“This is my wife, Eva,” Martinez inserted with genteel courtesy. “I am Martinez.”
Kitty absorbed that then, to Eva, exclaimed, “Firstly, I’m not in the ranks. Period. If you know who my brothers are, then you should also know that. Secondly, you’re the woman I spoke to on the phone.”
“Correct.”
“My wife is a woman of few words. Now, ladies,” Martinez inserted, “who do I have the honor of meeting tonight?”
His charm offensive pissed me off, but it seemed to reassure the coy sister, who giggled.
But it was Kitty, ever the mouthpiece, who stated, “The giggler’s Neev.”
That made sense. She was the youngest and the one most likely to piss off Kitty.
Martinez probably had a point about the babies of the family always being trouble.
“I’m Kitty.” She pointed to the anxious one. “She’s Róisín, but you can call her Raisin.”
Martinez rubbed his chin. “Raisin? Like the dried fruit?”
“Ma gave up on the Gaelic names after me.” Róisín graced our hosts with a small smile that broadcast her fear to the chamber. “That’s why Neev is spelled N-E-E-V and not N-I-A-M-H.”
“Ah, the Irish and their colorful placement of letters.” Martinez beamed like the magnanimous host he wasn’t. “You’re certain that we can call you… Raisin?”
The younger woman gave him a weak nod. “We’re among friends, I hope.”
“We are indeed.” He clapped his hands. “Now, we eat.”
“But it’s one AM,” Neev chirped.
“And you’ve drunk more than is wise. I’m sure you could use something hearty to soak up the alcohol.”
Martinez held out his arm, and Eva slipped hers through the crook of his elbow. He tugged her close, graced me with a knowing look, then strode off.
“What’s going on here?” Kitty hissed.
Uncertain of how to answer, I muttered, “Like I said on the phone, we should have informed him that we wanted to enter his territory.”
Before she could ask more questions, I mimicked Martinez’s stance.
She frowned but quickly settled into my side, like Eva had done with Martinez, as I urged her forward.
“We need to comply with their requests for the moment,” I told her sisters as we walked past them. “Lest they become orders.”
Wide-eyed, they gawked at me until I angled my chin toward the doorway where Martinez and his wife had disappeared.
Raisin cupped her elbows. “Can’t we go home?”
“Not yet. Soon,” I promised.
“I thought you didn’t make promises you couldn’t keep,” Kitty sniped for my ears only.
“I can keep it,” I chided. “I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
“Is this why you didn’t text me?”
“Yes. They took my phone.”
My admission had her frown easing. “Miguel has ours too. Come on. We’ll eat, dance to their tune, and I’m sure we’ll be out of here before we know it.
“Neev, stop flirting with murderers. Raisin, you look like you’re going to cry. Show no weakness.”
Neev sniffed. “Like Cade and Lucas haven’t murde—”
Kitty hissed to shut her up, leaving Raisin to muse, “Is it me, or does this remind you of that party scene in Pride and Prejudice when they did that special tracking shot?”
Kitty twisted around to face her as I led her onwards. “You know what? You’re right. I feel like we’re about to eat cucumber sandwiches and enjoy a ratafia.”
The three of them giggle-snorted, which at least had Raisin relaxing and the others appearing to calm down. That left me on red alert. Especially as they still hadn’t given me my damn phone back.
As we headed into a larger room, this one with a banquet-like dinner table, my brows lifted as Martinez stood at the head, awaiting our presence.
From her seated position at his right-hand side, Eva glared at us like we were dog shit on her heel while her husband held out an arm, indicating we should sit to his left.
Out of nowhere, two dozen men swarmed into the room. Beside me, Kitty tensed, but I clamped onto her wrist, imbuing the gesture with caution.
There was no reason for concern.
Yet.
When Martinez stopped smiling at me and Eva started, that was the moment we were fucked.
As I guided Kitty into her seat, channeling the manners my English grandparents had instilled in my older siblings more than they had me, I noticed Martinez’s approval and shuffled along to help Raisin too. Neev was covered by the guy who’d shot someone, in fucking public, in front of Kitty.
I narrowed my eyes at him as we both pushed the sisters’ chairs under the table. Smirking, Miguel seemed unbothered by my disdain.
Once I’d returned to my seat, Martinez finally sat down and so did the rest of us. The women weren’t wrong—this was bizarrely Austen-esque.
Kitty, displaying yet another personality, cleared her throat the moment there was any peace. “Senor Martinez?”
It should have come out timidly, but it didn’t.
Her tone was strident—ear-biting-offly so. The thought had me hiding a smile.
“Martinez, please.”