Chapter 2
Killian
I cross my arms and eye the two arseholes strutting toward me. Probing my bottom lip with my tongue, I press harder, enjoying the stinging sensation. Pain means I’m alive to feel it. And getting this little gift from a beautiful, sassy, terrified lass warms my cold heart.
The corner of my mouth twitches when I think about the look on Doc’s face after she smacked me good. Shocked was a fuckin’ understatement. I’d watched her go into a full-blown panic, dissociate, and knew she was going to bolt. Curious. Who’d have thought being in a hospital would trigger a doctor.
Despite taking my anger out on her in the car, I’d only wanted to keep her close to us.
I knew the boys in blue would be here soon and didn’t want her caught outside alone where they could grill her.
I wonder what else I can do to make her lose that tightly gripped control she thinks she has on life.
“Something funny?” the blond, baby-faced cop asks as he stops an arm’s length from me, eye-fuckin’ me like he thinks it’d be a fair fight. I’ve got about six inches of height on him. What is he, twelve?
As I stare down at him with a lazy grin, I also let the darkness seep into my eyes.
His expression falters and his gaze falls to the blood, drying to a rusty brown on my white dress shirt.
His partner, whose grey hair and paunch at least give him an air of life experience, pulls out a notebook. “Want to tell us what happened at Bella Castello tonight, Mr….?”
I don’t offer my name. Mentioning the place Da was shot is his way of letting me know he already has information. “Aye, it was a beautiful weddin’.”
He just stares at me, expression blank but grey eyes calculating. “And the events that brought you here?”
“Yeah, can’t help ya with that, mate.” If they knew where the shooting happened, they could go talk to Sandro. This is his territory, and he knows which LEOs are in his pocket. I haven’t got a bleedin’ clue.
The cops share a look, then the older one pulls a card from his notebook. “We will be talking to the gentleman who was shot as soon as he’s conscious. You’re only making finding the perp more difficult.” He holds out the card. “I’m sure that’s not your intention.”
“Are ya now?” I take it, so I can let Sandro know which boys in blue were at the hospital.
We aren’t counting on them finding out, we have our own men on it.
And justice looks different from our side of the law.
In my opinion, it looks more like justice, not like miles of red tape and time moving like molasses while men who don’t deserve to be breathing still are.
I shove the card in my pocket and lean back on my heels. “Have a good night, gentlemen.”
The grey-haired cop’s eyes narrow. “Chicago Irish?” He doesn’t wait for my reply. “You’re a long way from home… mate.” He smirks before he turns and strides out.
I caught the threat. I’m not protected here. But he doesn’t know that Tampa’s crime family landscape is expanding. As of tonight, the Italian mafia and Irish mob are married. And I have an empire to build in my new brother-in-law’s city.