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Lara sighed. “Have you no shame? I should call the police right now and get your ass in jail.” Do you know what Papai would say? The words tingled at the tip of her tongue. Their father had always taught them to be stand-up citizens, to do the right thing. He’d immigrated from Brazil with their mother in the beginning of their marriage, and fought hard to make a life for them—many years working meaningless jobs, saving money, the whole nine yards. And for what? To raise a criminal?
“It’s not that simple,” he added.
“You keep saying that,” she cut him off. “But for me it’s very simple. I don’t care what they tell you, you don’t go around beating people who are behind on their bills. This isn’t the Wild West.”
Tears brimmed his eyelids. “I can’t turn myself over to the police. If I do, I’m dead—and they may even get to Mom.”
Panic iced her veins. “Who is they?”
“I beat the wrong guy, right? But turns out, he’s Conor O’Donnell. He’s an enemy of the Gallucci family. So now they think the Gallucci family hired me to beat him up on purpose, and I may low key have started a mafia type war.”
She rubbed her forehead, her temples throbbing with dread. This time, things didn’t sound simple. Both families probably hated her brother, and who knew how these people solved their problems? Her stomach sank to the floor. “Well, can’t you explain what happened?” she asked, for the sake of asking.
“No. I’m on the run. I just stopped by to ask you to take care of Mom. I called Aunt Celia and she picked up Mom—Mom will be in Santa Barbara for a while with her.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I need to leave town for a bit. I’ll call you and check on you when it’s safe. But if I’m around, there’s no way this will end up with me not dying.”
Panic lodged in her throat, and she swallowed razors. Her brother closed the gap between them, and she saw in his eyes the same kind of panic overwhelming her. She wanted to yell at him, to kick him, to scream. How dare he jeopardize their mom’s security like that? How dare he—
He pulled her into a hug, and some of her anger dissipated. Her brother embraced her tightly, a cocoon of warmth and apprehension around her. She let her head rest on his shoulder for a moment. The way he held her reminded her of how their father used to hug them—like all the problems in the world would vanish within the comfort of his arms. Her heart shrank in her chest.
She couldn’t let anything happen to her brother. If he died, most likely Mom would follow. She wouldn’t be able to make it, to lose a son. And just like that, all her family would be gone.
She disengaged from his arms and cleared her throat. “We’ll figure it out, Miguel. And I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Mom. She doesn’t deserve more heartache.”
“I know I fucked up, and I promise—”
She lifted her hand, in a curt gesture, to keep him from making empty promises she tired of hearing. “I don’t care about your promises. If you don’t straighten up this time, I’ll have Mom move in with me and make sure you don’t have access to either of us anymore. You will be completely on your own,” she said and meant it.
She’d been a pushover, and would be one last time. But she’d also make sure he wouldn’t do this anymore. When it was safe for their mother to return from Aunt Celia’s, she’d move in with her, where she could keep an eye on her—and keep her away from all the drama.
But now, she had business to attend. “Where can I find this Gallucci guy?”
* * *
Troy rubbed his temples. He should have gone home, but he’d decided to work late—part of his plan to show his father he deserved to be the head of the family business in Los Angeles. He’d been groomed for the role his whole life as the oldest son, but his father had a change of heart and sent him to Tulip to oversee properties there as punishment.
A punishment for sleeping with his brother’s wife. A big lump of guilt lodged in his throat. He shouldn’t have done it, and couldn’t blame it on the alcohol. Yes, he and Michelle were pretty wasted at that party—but he should have walked away when she kissed him. He knew their marriage had been on the rocks for a while, but that didn’t mean he had the green light to sleep with her.
The intercom ping yanked him from his thoughts.
“Mr. Gallucci, there’s a woman here dead set on talking to you. I already explained to her she needs an appointment with your assistant,” the building security guard said.
“I’m not going anywhere,” said a female voice behind him.
Troy rocked back in his chair. He hadn’t slept with anyone else after Michelle, about two months ago. He didn’t have any bad breakups or anything like that—he was always upfront. So, what did this woman want with him? He didn’t recognize her voice. Maybe she was a disgruntled employee or an unhappy former business partner? The way his father had run things in Tulip and the nearby cities hadn’t been optimal. And now, Troy had to do a lot of clean up, including trying to maintain a good relationship with the O’Donnells. “Send her in,” he said. Best to deal with her now than later.
A couple of minutes later, a woman in her mid-twenties stormed into his office. His assistant had already gone for the day, and he’d expected the guest to knock on the door, but she simply strode inside.
Interesting.
She stood in the middle of his office, hands perched at her waist. The stranger wore a black cocktail dress that hugged her sexy body like a glove. His gaze swung from her beautiful face framed with long, dark hair, down her graceful neck and the lithe, yet surprisingly curvy form. “Troy Gallucci?” she asked, as if she didn’t know who he was—even though she’d looked for him.
He squared his shoulders, gesturing for her to sit. But the woman didn’t move an inch. “How can I help you, miss…”
“Lara Nunes. I’m here to talk about my brother, Miguel.”
