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Tony barks a laugh. “Not that it wouldn’t be fun to go a couple of rounds with you, but you’re not going to hurt me for the same reason why Bianchi won’t hurt me. Jo would skin you alive.”
With a grimace, I look away from him and back at the game on the television. He’s right. I’m not going to hurt anyone Josephine cares about.
“Now, are you going to tell me how you ‘ran’ into Lorenzo?” he asks inquisitively.
Again, I grimace. “I’d rather not.”
Tony cell pings and he scrolls through his text messages. His eyes grow wider as he reads a fucking long ass text. I groan because there’s only one person I know who sends fucking book-long messages—my Pixie.
Tony’s eyebrows are to his hairline when he looks over at me. “What in the hell possessed you to go and invite her parents to the wedding?”
“Why the fuck is she telling you any of this?” I sulk. “You two gossip like high school chicks.”
“We text every day.” Tony laughs as he reads more. “Oh, man! Your ass is toast.”
I’m not surprised the two have gotten close, especially after the Jacob fiasco. “Well, since she’s filled you in on the details, I can tell you she ran off on me and was walking her sweet little ass back to work when Bianchi stopped her. I came right behind them on my hog, and you can imagine the rest.”
Tony types a text back to Josephine—LOLit looks like from where I’m sitting—before he looks back at me. “It’s no coincidence Bianchi was driving by and happen to spot Jo. My guess is he’s still having your girl watched. If you leave her alone for a minute, he’ll be all over her like flies on shit. He’s a sleaze who is used to getting what he wants. It bothers him to high hell he can’t seal the deal with Jo.
“Look, I don’t know what the fucker has planned, but I can tell you his end game is to have her on his arm. It’s a good thing you’re packing. Watch your back because he’s definitely waiting for an opportunity to take you out of the equation. If I were you, I’d put protection detail on Jo again, pronto. ”
“I had Punk and Reaper with her at all times when I was gone,” I snap.
“And it’s the only reason why he didn’t confront her while you were away,” he fires back, setting down his empty beer bottle. “I know you’re keen on grabbing this Esteban drug lord and all, but the real threat is the one who’s close to home. Jo turning Bianchi down has made this his favorite game. The more she refuses him, the more compelled he becomes on winning her. The cocksucker won’t stop ‘till he gets what he wants—it’s not in his nature to back down.”
“I knew it was a shit idea when Gauge suggested we take Bianchi up on his offer to help with guard duty,” I mutter before downing the rest of my beer.
“Don’t blame Gauge. Bianchi’s a smooth talker. I’ve seen him talk his way out of trouble with the law and talk his way into a poor victim’s house right before offing them.” He rises from the recliner to grab more beers.
“What are you going to do for work?”
Tony hands me another beer and sighs. “Not a fucking clue. I can easily get a security job working at one of the clubs downtown or back in Denver, but I don’t know.”
An idea dawns on me. I want to expand my company and planned to hire more men. “How about working security detail for me?”
Tony does a double-take. “You want me to work for you? Me—ex-mafioso?”
“Why not? You already know what I expect. Jo will have no problem hanging with you when I’m not available. You know my crew and what my MC represents. My company deals with security, which specializes in a gun for hire and recon. You check all the boxes—retired military who specializes in security.”
“I’m not a SEAL,” he reminds me.
“You’re a brother in arms,” I counter.
“I don’t own a hog,” he points out.
I shrug. “It’s not a requirement. But do you know how to ride one?”
“Yes.”
“Would you ride one or get your own?”
Tony scratches his jaw. “Yes. I mean, I like to ride.”
“Well, you’ll fit in fine.” I take a pull from my beer, sitting back to watch the game as I give him time to mull it over.
Tony stares at his hands. “You’d really hire me on?”
“Tony, do you want the job or not?” I ask, mildly irritated.
