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Griffin’s stare sours on mine. “So, you’ve pissed off the Irishandthe Albanians. Got it.”
I eye him warily. “The Irish have been dealt with.” The Irish issue ended when the coroner zipped up Martin O’Hare’s body bag. No one else in that family would be stupid enough to come for a Visconti without Martin or Kelly at the helm. They wouldn’t survive it. “But yes, I’ve pissed off the Albanians.”
“And all in under a week,” he says dryly. His attention falls to my knuckles curled over the window frame. “Plus, I’m sure Blake’s family will want answers.”
Annoyance pulls my jaw taut. Griff has said about ten words to me since I left Blake for dead on the side of the road. Half of them wereyes bossin the most sarcastic of tones, the other half unintelligible grunts. I let it go for a few days, because I knew he was probably pissed I’d left him a man short, but I think I’ve been more than gracious.
“Do you have something to say about me killing Blake?” I ask calmly. When he only stares in response, I dip my head into the car and get in his face. “I don’t pay you to have an opinion.”
Without waiting for an answer, I stride toward the church. Somewhere between our parents’ gravestone and the wrought iron doors, Gabe’s heavy stomps fall into rhythm with mine.
“Angelo’s pissed at you.”
My laugh condenses against the night sky. “What’s he going to do? Fire me?”
His attention drops to my knuckles, then he smirks. “I’m starting to think you like the dark side.”
“Mm. It’s kind of fun over here.”
The church doors crack open, and to my surprise something small and four-legged bounds out of it. Angelo emerges soon after, swooping down to pick the dog up. “Come here, you little shit,” he grunts. He ruffles its head and meets my silent query with a dark expression. “Don’t fucking ask.”
“But you know I’m going to.”
He sighs. “She’s a rescue from the shelter. Rory hasn’t stopped going on about her since we visited, so I went back and got her for Christmas.”
“And you’re carrying her around because…”
“Because every time I leave the house, my wife goes on a treasure hunt for her Christmas presents. The dog’s been staying with the housekeeper, but she won’t survive Rory’s interrogation.”
Biting back a smirk, I regard the panting dog nestled in the crook of my brother’s arm. With her golden curls and big brown eyes, she actually looks like my sister-in-law, but I’m in enough shit with Angelo that I think it best not to tell him his wife looks like a dog.
“You bring us all the way up here to pet her?”
Angelo grits his teeth. “No, we need to talk.”
“Can we talk inside the church? Think my balls are getting frostbite.”
He cuts an annoyed look toward my car. “I think your balls are getting plenty of warmth, brother. Here.” He turns his wrath to Gabe and shoves the dog into his arms. “Take her for a walk.”
I cock a brow. “You never readOf Mice and Men?Gabe is Lennie, only stronger.”
He ignores me, glaring at Gabe as he saunters off, comically small dog in tow.
When it’s just us, he lets out a quiet, tense breath. “You’ve lost the plot, Rafe.”
“Is that an official diagnosis or—?”
He cuts me off. “For once in your fucking life, stop talking shit and be straight with me. What’s going on? Your head isn’t in this war. Fuck, I’m not sure even sure your head is screwed onto your neck anymore.”
The flame of my Zippo cuts across the darkness. I light a cigarette and drop my head against the door of the church. He’s got a point. I’d be lying if I said this war had crossed my mind even once in the last week. “I’ve been busy.”
Angelo grinds out a sardonic laugh. “Did you kill the other O’Hare?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
As I bring the cigarette to my lips, I glance over my busted knuckles. “Messily.”
