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Ah yes, I guess we need to take care of that too.
I capture Kay’s mouth with a kiss before she can throw any insults, and when I pull away, I relish the pink tinting her cheeks and neck.
“Name it,” I murmur.
“Annoyed,” she grumbles.
I smile, giving her another kiss. “Liar.”
It’s a long day, and it gets longer every minute that passes without seeing Kay. We waste time cleaning Kay’s mess in my office. Our call with the Canadians lasts forever, and until we find something to blackmail them with, we’ll be paying a shit ton of money to stop them from working with the Lucianos. They’re used to providing weed to all the Cosa Nostra families on the East Coast. No more.
The rest of the day is spent going to places all over the North Shore, meeting my new dealers, assigning areas to everyone. I stopped three fights and one stabbing attempt between NSC and the Kings. Sam and Emma are with me all day, and I desperately wish Kay was here too, but I can’t take that risk. Not yet. If she comes back to the North Shore, she’ll want to stay, to be away from me. I can’t have that.
I can’t risk losing her.
The whole week is intense. Separating from what I’ve always known to build my empire is just as much work as I expected. Infinite.
There’s always a fire to put out, a mole to kill for spying, a finger to cut for asking too many questions. People make mistakes, I can understand that. Once, though, not twice.
But fuck, there’s always someone unhappy to take care of, and I didn’t sign up to be anyone’s dad. The North Shore gangs have lived too long by their own law, and they’re struggling to adapt to mine.
Today, Emma is the one breaking my balls. In the afternoon, she shows up at my house, barging into my office with a picture that she slams on my desk. The girl has been feeling way too comfortable since she’s the only person I let Kay see. I can’t have anyone from the Kings speaking with Kay, but Emma is safe enough.
I look up from a contract Garcia-Diaz just drafted for me, hoping my unimpressed glare takes her down a notch. It doesn’t.
She stabs the picture with her index finger.
“This bitch broke into my house in the middle of the fucking day. She shot my dad!”
I look down at the grainy picture of a redhead in a navy suit. She’s tall, her eyes lacking any emotion. The picture is taken on Emma’s front porch, from the point of view of her door. Probably one of those doorbells with a camera.
“Is your dad okay?” That wasn’t me. I couldn’t care less how her dad is. No, that was the voice of my sweet wife, caring for things that shouldn’t matter to her.
“He’ll live. I don’t think she wanted him dead.”
The two better not be becoming friends. I’ll kill her. Her being Emma, of course.
I tilt my head to the side, looking behind Emma. Kay is passing my office doorway, advancing toward us with a focused look on her face.
I know what’s happening. She’s bored to death, and she wants to work. Her business is being a criminal. It’s a high like no other to work on the wrong side of the law, and Kay is in need of her fix.
“Who’s this?” Kay asks, looking down at the picture. There’s something I don’t understand in her eyes, and when she catches me staring, she changes it right away.
“Lucky,” Emma snarls.
“Lucky?” my wife repeats.
I lean back in my chair. Okay, I guess I can give her that. It has nothing to do with my business, after all. If Lucky was after me, she’d have found me. No, she’s after Emma.
“Her real name is Lana Anderson. But the Cosa Nostra calls her Lana, Lucky Strike, Anderson. Lucky for short. She’s Vito Luciano’s enforcer.”
I know what surprise looks like on Kay, and there’s none on her face right now. Something feels off; I just don’t know what.
“Do you know her?” I ask her stupidly.
She snorts, crossing her arms over the dress I had her wear today. She hates it. It looks too Stoneview, but I can’t get enough of the way it hugs her body.
“Why would I ask if I knew?” She digs her gaze into mine, and I simply nod. I don’t have the capability to understand this further.
