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“Maybe,” I say, because I’m scared for my brother, “you’re not really mafia, and you’re working to bring them down from the inside. Maybe you’re into black ops shit or whatever my brother is. And these . . . Lowlanders? They’re the worst of the worst and you’re working to also bring them down.”
“No. I’m the mafia kind of guy.”
“But not my brother?”
“That he would have told me.” His voice is gentle, and it’s almost my undoing. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t—”
“He might have just joined a gang as evidence says.”
But I shake my head. “Fallon’s not an idiot. You know he wouldn’t do that. If he did, there was a reason.”
He sighs. “Yeah. And he never said anything?”
“No.”
“See, Fallon might have slipped up when he was younger. I didn’t grow up with him, but you knew him.” Tizio nods, and I continue. “But he found me when no one else did. I had a different name, the best fakes, and I was off the system. And he found me. No gang member does that. Whatever my brother’s doing, that’s just a cover or a small part. Don’t you think?”
“That’s exactly what I think.”
Anyone else and I’d think they were just humoring me, but Tizio isn’t a man to sugarcoat or waste his time humoring me or anyone else. He says it like it is. He’ll manipulate when he has to, I can see that, but he’s pretty straight shooting.
Begrudgingly, I like him for that. Just like I do for him telling me the truth when he could have straight-up lied.
“I also know because you’re not the kind of man who’d be friends with a lowly gang member.”
“Don’t romanticize things, Karlee.”
“I’m not.” Or I’m going to do my best to try not to, but he doesn’t need to know that. I slant a look at him, and that squeeze of the heart catches me by surprise again at how handsome he is. How . . . how out of my league.
Not that I let that kind of thing stop me.
I try and tell myself I want comfort.
I try and say this is just me boundary-pushing.
But it isn’t.
I want him.
“And if he was a gang member, you wouldn’t be on protection and ogling duty.”
He goes still. “I’m not?—”
“Yes,” I say, “you most definitely ogle me, whether you want to admit it or not.”
“Karlee . . .”
As usual, I ignore the warning. “You ogle, watch, and covet, and I like it. More than like it. I love it.”
“Karlee.” He snatches his glass and downs the rest, setting it down. “You’re a fucking brat.”
I think about doing the same with my drink but change my mind. I’ll probably cough or spit it out, and that isn’t sexy. At all. I want to be sexy for him.
Setting my glass down right next to his, I slide a finger along his jawline, along the stubble. “Then do something about it.”
“Go to bed, Karlee.”
