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I didn’t pride myself on a lot in my life. But my loyalty to my Family was absolute. I’d shaved fifteen years off my life for them. I’d threatened other members who were getting shady and not letting the boss man know. I never went back on my word, ever.
Until Whitney.
With her soft sighs and her tight pussy and her sweet begging for more, for harder, for faster.
I was just going to have to find a way to tell Lorenzo what had gone down.
I didn’t, on principle keep secrets. If he was pissed at me for my honesty, then so be it. He had a right. I’d gone against his word.
The thing was, though, Lorenzo Costa was nothing like his shithead of a father. He understood that minor fuck-ups didn’t need to hold the same weight of punishment that the big shit did. There was nuance to life. Lorenzo understood that.
He might sigh and grumble at me when I told him, but that would probably be the extent of it.
Shit had been too crazy in the city the past few years to really give a damn about something as little as who I was fucking.
And I would be fucking her. Many times.
I felt like a damn teenager as I watched her walking around the diner, knowing she was being extra careful about how she bent or turned, being acutely aware that her panties were still stuffed in my pocket.
My cock was getting hard just thinking about it.
So, yeah, there was no way it was going to be a one-and-done sort of deal.
As I watched her, too, ruminating on her situation, I knew there was no way I was going to leave her alone and defenseless against a sadistic bastard like her sister’s ex.
Sure, she had a gun. But unless you were real comfortable and trained with them, you were more likely to be the victim of your own gun used against you, than using it against someone else.
I had to keep her safe.
More than that, I wanted to.
“Really, it’s okay if you’ve thought about it and changed your mind,” she told me after the last of the tables left. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she added, but averted her gaze and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear as she said it.
What can I say?
I’d played a lot of fucking card games while locked up.
I knew a tell when I saw one.
She was lying.
She was genuinely worried he was going to show up again. And do worse.
“I haven’t changed my mind. I’m just waiting for you to finish up so we can head out,” I told her.
“Hey now, who is this?” another female voice asked, making both of us jolt like we’d been caught fucking, not just talking. “Aren’t you a yummy thing?” she asked, her eyes moving up and down me.
She was clearly a career waitress, older than me, skinny as a garden rake, with an orange shade of red hair and a lot of eye makeup.
There was something fierce about her, though. And, I guess, you didn’t get to serve tables in the city for decades without developing some real grit.
“Maureen! Hey. This is my, ah, friend. Salvatore.”
That name had her gaze shooting back to me, eyes even keener than before.
“Salvatore Costa,” she said, making Whitney stiffen. “I thought you looked familiar. Shave off a couple of those charming fine lines and those silver hairs… you were all over the news almost, what, twenty years back?”
“Give or take,” I agreed, nodding.
