I shrug. “So I’ll have her do other jobs that usually cost.”
He looks up with his eyes only, head still bent over his desk. “You planning to have her do some wet work?”
“God, no.” I grimace, reacting as if he just asked me to show him my dick. Not something you whip out in a moment like this. “She got attacked two nights ago, and her lack of fighting skills is obvious. Having her take out someone would be a liability for everyone.”
“Attacked?” His eyes narrow at the idea. Especially with my colorful way of saying she didn’t win it. “Where?”
“Her place. Apparently two guys from the building came in and knocked her around a bit. They took off with the cash she had set aside to give to the Kings.”
“You take care of it yet?”
“They’re on vacation according to my team.”
Bobby huffs and sits back in his chair. “I bet. Paid vacation, too, from the sounds of it.”
I nod. I’ll track them down. Always do. Either me personally or someone who works for me. We each have our own set of boys, but we all have the same value point—being on top and staying there. The guys who robbed Payton have now robbed me. Sure, if it weren’t for the mugging, I might not have paid more attention to her. I was always watching, of course, but her in my clothes and in my space might not live in my head on a constant loop.
Mama always said that it takes a special person to turn a Leone’s head. Might not always be for a good reason, but there is one. And till we know what that reason is, it’s best to hold tight while we can. That’s worked for the family with our enemies for years. We get an itch, feel like something’s off about someone or they just stand out compared to the others, we pay attention and deal with the issue before it becomes more.
I’m sure Mama was thinking more along the lines of us finding our other half like she did with Pops, but so far she’s been disappointed. Well, not till Milly came back into our lives. Now Ma’s got a grandkid and a wedding to plan. She’s over the moon. Too bad for her, I’m pretty sure Milly’s just going to do the justice of the peace thing and move on. She spent too many years running in her life; now she just wants to live it with her man and kid and not deal with waiting for things to happen anymore.
“I’ve got a position here. She any good with numbers?”
I shrug. “Never asked. But if she’s going to be working nights at my place, I’m not sure a nine-to-five is the option. One or both of us will just get pissed at her for falling asleep on the job.”
His eyes narrow at my words, head tilting as he looks at me. “Riiight. Wouldn’t want that.”
“If you say so.” I throw my hands up and adjust in my seat.
He shakes his head, a slow grin pulling across his face. “You’re full of shit. Fine, whatever. You keep the girl all to yourself. No hair off my ass. Just get me the money. We aren’t running a charity.”
“I know a guy who can wax that for you. Might even get you laid if that’s what’s sending the girls running for the door.”
“Har har, very funny. Now, let’s talk about your other issue.”
Moving closer to his desk, he pulls out another file, this one thicker than the last, and puts it on top of the first.
Chapter 16—Payton
“Good work tonight.”
The brush slips from my hand. I was so focused on covering the bruises that continue to show due to sweating beneath the lights that I missed someone sneaking up behind me.
I think I’m even more startled by who it is.
Dante. Tommy’s… friend? Not sure if that’s the right word. They work closely together and have been a silent duo since they showed up here, but I’m not sure if it’s more than just work.
“Th-thanks.” I swallow the shiver in my voice as I pick up the brush again.
I’m sure everyone can see what I’m trying to hide, though no one has said anything. Trixie just laughed, but no one outright asked or called me out on my busted-up face. They can only see it when I’m backstage like this and take off my mask to do touch-ups.
I’ve already performed three times tonight. I don’t even need to fix my face if I don’t want to. My night is over.
But that damn part is getting louder than just a pea-size section of my brain talking to me. It now wants me totryall the time to look presentable. To be… appealing for someone. Just one person.
When I look in the mirror once more to watch where I’m about to conceal, my hand stalls midair.
“Did you need something?”
