Page 139 of Unruly

Before anyone could press her for more, Catherine heard the front door of the brownstone open and close. She heard the tiny patter of footsteps, and the sweetest squeal that made her heart swell. She turned in just enough time to catch her running daughter in a big hug.

“Ma!”

Catherine lifted Cece right up from the floor, dotting her little face with kisses. “Hey, baby! Ma missed you, my girl.”

Cross came around the island to add to the kisses Cece was soaking up. “And Daddy, too.”

In the entryway to the kitchen, Catherine’s parents stood with doggie bags of takeout. She had known they would be coming back today, just not what time they would finally show up. She was quick to put all the file contents away after she set Cece on the floor.

“Anyone hungry?” Dante asked.

“Whoopie Pies and grease,” Miguel said, eyeing the bags with a grin, “Yes, diabetes is in my future.”

Catherine gave him a look, but her partner only shrugged.

Cece, on the other hand, shrieked when she saw the sweets on the counter. “Whoopie Pies, Miggy!”

“Right?”

Work could wait a day, Catherine decided.

Family was here.

Cross varied between sipping from his coffee, and eating the cheese and mushroom omelet on the plate. All the while, men chattered on around him.

Their discussions of business kept him mostly interested in letting their monthly tribute go on for longer than he first intended. Business was good, after all. He had to be grateful for the small things, considering everything else.

“So, the Russians are out of the game now, boss?”

“Yeah,” another one said. “I got word the boss and his bigwig fuckers are down for the count.”

“Any truth to that, boss?”

Cross’s attention shifted from man to man asking questions, and then finally went to the Capo sitting near the windows. “Has there been any problems with that organization or their men lately?”

“No.”

“Then, I suppose you have your answer.”

Rick, Zeke, and the Capo that had helped to dispose of the higher Russians in the Bratva organization a few nights ago passed him looks. Silent, questioning looks. Cross shook his head subtly, and sipped on his coffee once more.

That put their curiosity to bed. The men went back to doing their business as they were supposed to do.

Cross had no desire to explain what had been done to stop the Russians, or that he was well aware the detectives were trying to link him to the three murders. Well … he looked to Zeke, and couldn’t help but take notice of the man’s calm, well-dressed appearance.

Zeke was back home. Doing business. Keeping his head down.

Everything a made man should.

Timur had been disposed of as well. Cross fully believed it. He simply didn’t ask Zeke how, what, or where. Details like those didn’t need to be shared at the moment.

Cross was going to take that same approach with his men regarding the Russian issue. The less men knew, the less likely it was that details about his involvement—or anyone else that helped him—got out. None of them needed that nonsense. Not with official attention on them as high as it currently happened to be.

What happened, happened. It was over. Entirely. As long as the men were safe on the streets, could do their business and work without concern, then that’s all that should matter. He didn’t need to be questioned about it.

His men knew that.

Besides …