“Sorry,” I murmur. “Do all your weird morals put you against phones at dinner?” I lick sauce from the back of one finger while retrieving my phone.
“Not at all,” Bradley replies. “Who is it?”
“It’s…” The screen lights up and I straighten up like a bolt. “It’s my brother! Oh, thank God.” Unlocking my phone, I highlight his text and quickly show Bradley so he knows I’m telling the truth.
[Peter] Where are you?
[Zira] No clue. Where have you been? How are you? Is everything okay?
[Peter] You’re hurt?
[Zira] It’s nothing. Tell me where you are! I had to drive for miles and miles and you’re not here.
[Peter] What do you mean?
I pause and glance up at Bradley. “What do I tell him?”
Bradley wipes the corner of his mouth with his knuckle, chewing slowly. “Ideally, if you can get him to meet you, I’ll have a much better time protecting him.”
“You mean it?”
He spears some chicken and nods. “I’m a man of my word.”
“I can’t tell him about Harris. That’ll scare him.” Chewing on the inside of my lower lip, I stare down at the screen and eventually settle on a little lie.
[Zira] Harris and I are ready to meet, and you’re not here. Where the hell are you?
Setting my phone down, I turn back to the food, but my appetite is either sated or vanished because my hunger is gone. Bradley passes me a bottle of water and watches me with that quiet, intense gaze once more.
“Will he be in trouble with you?” I ask, tracing my tongue around one of my teeth as my leg starts to bounce. “Because he drove that car with the rest of the diamonds?”
“Not with me,” Bradley replies. “The Irish may see him as an accessory or an opportunist, but I’ll work on that.”
I nod slowly. “I still can’t wrap my head around that part. I feel like I should be going to the police or something.”
“The police won’t help you,” Bradley replies. “You’ll be passed around until you end up with the wrong officer who will just hand you off to the Irish.”
My eyes widen. “They’d do that?”
“Some, yes.”
“Geez,” I mutter under my breath. “Can’t trust the cops, huh?”
Anything else Bradley has to say doesn’t reach my ears because Peter finally texts me back and his message sends my heart down into my gut.
[Peter] Liar.
16
BRADLEY
Amountain of paperwork rests on the table next to me, each sheet detailing an expense we have to pay to make up for the closed roads, the traffic disruptions, the delays in reopening the highway, the death of Harris, overtime pay, and hush money to keep certain people quiet. The less glamorous side of my job that keeps the Mafia world turning and the legal eye away from us.
Groaning softly, I sink down against the table until my head is in my hands and close my eyes. Maybe the Suit needs an extra member, someone who excels at paperwork and enjoys it so much, they don’t even have to be asked. As I’m mulling over the logistical headache of expanding the Suit, the floorboard creaks and I lift my head in time for Frank to enter, holding his tablet against his chest. From the tired grimace on his face, I know this isn’t good.
“Who is it?” I mouth at him, pointing at the table.
Frank mouths back. “Damian.”
