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“Because when you’re in the life, you’re in it. This is all there is.”
“But don’t some of the others have actual jobs? Like legitimate jobs?” she asked.
Yeah.
Because we needed to wash the dirty money.
“Sure. But not careers,” I told her, following her out of the bathroom and down the hall.
“Do you need to get that?” she asked, making me aware of the buzzing on the counter just as it stopped vibrating.
The screen lit up.
Ten missed calls.
“Fuck,” I hissed, reaching for it and having to fumble with my goddamn passcode three times before I got it open.
Lorenzo. Emilio. Lorenzo.
Not good.
They didn’t call ten times in a row unless shit had gone sideways.
Just as I was about to call them back, the phone started to vibrate in my hand again.
“What’s wrong?” I answered, looking over at Whitney who actually looked concerned.
“It’s Anthony,” Lorenzo said, tone tight.
“What happened?” I asked, stomach tightening.
“Drive-by,” Lorenzo said, and I could hear Emilio in the background demanding to know where the fuck I was. Anthony was his little brother. Who had the worst fucking luck in the whole goddamn world. Shot, stabbed, shot again. I felt like the bastard was constantly living on my couch so I could keep an eye on some wound he had going on.
“Are you at the office?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’m on my way,” I said, cutting the call off.
“Go,” Whitney said, nodding. “You don’t need to explain yourself.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” I told her, rushing off to deal with another Family crisis.
And all the fucking while, all I could think about was getting to see her again.
CHAPTER TEN
Whitney
It was kind of sick to be turned on when a guy was treating a wound he was trying to keep from “festering” and “weeping,” right?
I mean… try to tell that to my body.
I tried.
It didn’t give a damn.
All it cared about was how he got down on his knees in front of me and ran his fingers over my skin.
