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A dozen guns are trained on me in a second. The brain behind them poised for my body to snap the old man’s neck like a chicken’s.
But I’d prefer to walk out of here alive, so I let my instincts go – for now.
I know I’m done here. It’s clear that Portello has nothing but power and gloating on his mind.
Sending me to talk here was a waste of precious time I could’ve better spent elsewhere.
Like following the most perfect ass in the world I’ve ever seen home.
I stand slowly, my hands slightly raised in a show of surrender before I nod a little bow of respect for the Don.
As much as I hate him and his kind, he’s still older than me. Still the head of a powerful family, and that always commands a level of respect in my world.
Plus, it never hurts to let your opponent think he’s won a round or two.
“I’ll send word to your Papa. What I want and when,” he snaps again.
“Tell him not to send a boy to do a man’s job again. Even if you are big, you’re not who speaks for your family,boy,” he sneers, and his henchmen leer and snicker to themselves as I back my way toward the door.
Strangely, I’m only worried about not being able to track the girl.
The room full of guns and hateful men isn’t even enough to dim the fire she’s lit inside me.
It’s even replacing the flames of revenge I felt flowing through me like lava before I arrived here today.
Now?
All I want now is her. Once I’m alone on the street and out of sight of the restaurant, I un-ball the soggy paper from my pocket.
The corner of my lip curls once I see her first name and street address.
The only parts of the notice I can still read, but it’s all I need and all I want right now too.
Jasmine.
Her name lifts my mood more than her address.
Pretty name for a pretty girl, but what the hell is she doing living on this side of town?
She could have the whole world at her feet.
Being a good head and shoulders taller than most has me taking longer strides as well as being able to spot her long before she knows I’m on her trail.
Damn. If that ass doesn’t look better by the minute, even at this distance.
I’ve hustled some to catch up, but it’s almost as though she’s in no hurry to get home if that’s where she’s headed.
Being a man of my size makes it easier to be seen too, and I don’t want to frighten her, so I hang back once I’m able to keep sight of her.
She’s looked around a couple of times, probably sensing she’s being followed.
But she’s not Portello stock. I know she’s not.
So who the hell is she?
Only one way to find out.
The sudden appearance of a short, heavy-set man on the sidewalk out in front of an apartment block has me connecting a couple of dots.
