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Behind Sterling, his friends—I count five more of the Seven—are poised to jump to his defense at the first sign of trouble. Considering we’re on the lawn of his house, where his friend has just gotten married, it’s fair to say we’re in his territory. A dangerous place for his enemy to be, and without backup. Which is the situation Sovrano is in. Although, knowing him, his brothers can’t be far off. Which makes this situation worse than a football stadium packed with hooligans where the visitors won.
"I’m fine." Karma once more places her hands over her stomach. Summer glances down at her gesture, then back at Karma’s face. "Karma." She swallows. "Are you—?"
Karma nods.
Summer’s features break into a big smile. "Oh, wow." She squeezes her sister’s hand. "So am I," she whispers.
"No way." Karma gapes, then her features crumple, and her voice cracks. "I’m so... so very sorry I didn’t keep in touch. It’s my fault we lost so much time."
"We have so much to catch up on." Summer sniffles. She turns to Michael and holds out her hand. "I’m Summer Sinclair, Karma’s sister. Welcome to the family."
Sinclair makes a choking sound.
A ripple of something seems to run through the rest of the crowd. If the tension had crackled before, now it seems to press down on all gathered. A cold fog of fury gathers speed and coils in on itself. The blood thuds at my pulse points, and all of my senses go on alert. I need to step in before someone takes a wrong step, and it starts a shit storm of tsunami proportions. Not that it’d matter to me. If the Seven and the Sovrano brothers—who also happen to be seven in total—is that a coincidence? —engage in an all-out war, the winner would be… You guessed it; yours truly.
It would work neatly to my benefit. Except I’m here at Sovrano’s request. Also, because Karma personally asked me to help broker a deal with the Seven. It’s the only way for her to be reunited with her sister. And apparently, chivalry isn’t dead. At least, where I’m concerned.
Michael glances down at Summer’s proffered hand. Sinclair tenses. The tendons on his throat stand out.
Behind Sinclair, his friends tense further. The apprehension in the space ratchets up. My nerves stretch to their breaking point, but I don’t move. Neither do the men. Not even Michael. Everyone seems to be holding their collective breath when the sound of barking cuts through the tense atmosphere. The thud of paws on grass reaches us, then a small bundle of dogginess shoots out from behind Sinclair. The puppy brushes past Summer and comes to a halt in front of Michael. It glances up at the big man and pants. The animal wags its tail so hard, it threatens to fall off. It woofs again, then leaps up to plant its paws on Michael’s pant leg. Every muscle in Michael’s body seems to go rock hard. His gaze narrows on the puppy. Sinclair steps forward. Summer draws in a sharp breath. Then the Don bends and rubs the puppy above his nose.
The little fella closes his eyes in ecstasy and pushes into his hand. Michael scratches the dog behind his ears, and the dog pants loudly. Then begins to hump Michael’s leg.
Michael freezes, a look of shock on his face.
Karma chuckles.
Summer snorts.
Sinclair’s face reddens. "Down boy. Here Max. What’s wrong with you?"
"Umm..." Summer chortles, then seems to get a hold of herself. "Darling, I did say it was time to get him neutered."
Both Michael and Sinclair wince at the same time. A look of comical horror is mirrored on their features. They exchange glances. Then Sinclair grabs the puppy and lifts him. Max turns his attention to Sinclair and licks his mouth.
"Enough." Sinclair moves his face to the side, and Max licks his cheek, his ear. Sterling finally manages to pry the puppy off of himself and places him on the ground. Max barks again, then sits his butt on the ground and whines.
A slightly frazzled Sinclair pulls out his handkerchief and wipes his face.
Meanwhile, Michael finally clasps Summer’s still extended hand. He lowers his head and kisses her knuckles. "My wife’s sister is my own sister. I pledge the loyalty of theCosa Nostrato you, and by extension" —he glances at Sinclair— "to your family."
2
JJ
"Well, isn’t this civilized?" I pour 24-year-old Macallan into three tumblers, then slide two across the counter.
Neither Sinclair nor Michael—now sporting a black eye—make a move to reach for theirs.
After the puppy successfully defused the tension outside, the women hugged each other again. Summer insisted that Michael and Karma come inside their house. Sterling didn’t look happy, but he didn’t protest, either. He glanced over his shoulder, and his friends nodded, a palpable air of relief running through the crowd. Muscles relaxed. Jaws unclenched. The men didn’t take their gazes off of Michael but they also didn’t seem like they were going to throw up their fists at the least provocation. The reception was being held at the Sterling’s home in honor of the newlyweds. Everyone followed Summer and Karma into the house. The sisters decided to catch up while the others partook of refreshments of the liquid kind from Sterling’s substantial bar. I suggested to the two men that we adjourn to a more suitable location, like Sterling’s study, for instance, where we could address the elephant in the room, i.e., Michael’s connection to Sinclair’s past.
They agreed.
Sinclair didn’t seem happy about the fact that I asked to see the inside of his study, but fuck that. Now that the drama has been defused, my interest in the proceedings has waned somewhat. I came with the intention of brokering a deal, but apparently, all it took was the prospect of a puppy losing his balls for the most lethal of men to begin to see sense. On the other hand, the prospect of losing the family jewels is enough for any man to break out in a cold sweat.
I raise my glass of whiskey. "Should we drink to the start of a beautiful relationship?"
Sinclair snorts.
