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Behind me, footsteps approach. His friends, no doubt.
And I don’t give a flying fuck.
“I really don’t care who your daddy is, little boy. Stay in your lane, and if you can’t get a girl the regular way, look into celibacy.”
I feel the air before the piece of wood hits my shoulders. I turn, throwing the blond brat at his friends.
“Looking to annoy?” I ask mildly.
They pick themselves up, and one of them, the biggest, steps forward, fists up. I sigh.
“You wanna take all of us, big guy?” he says and sneers, flying high on booze.
“You wanna take yourself to the hospital with broken bones? Because,” I say, “keep this fucking shit up and I’ll do that. Leave you bleeding and broken.”
“You think you can take all of us?” one asks.
There are six of them. “Yes.”
That pauses them for a moment, and just before the one with the wood comes at me, I swing his feet out with my foot and stomp on his chest. Enough to make him howl, not enough to break ribs.
The big one swings, and I drop him with a hard fist to the face, breaking his nose.
“I can keep on trucking here,” I say. “Or stop drugging girls, and I’ll leave you be.”
With that, I turn on them and walk away, down through the front of the alley.
They’re not going to follow. Too many groans and moans behind me. The fear in their swearing and building up of one another is so pathetic I’ve got a good mind to finish them off.
Not finish them off like the final curtain, but just really teach them a lesson.
However, I’m not fucking leaving Avah longer than I have. And they’re gonna feel the pain and the lesson for the next couple of weeks.
Assholes.
Little, spoiled, fucking cowardly assholes.
I get in my car and head home, taking the long way, because I want to come in farther down the street, and watch the front for a bit.
If someone saw me come here, then I want to see if they’re either following now, or back at my place.
They won’t get in. My state-of-the-art alarm system doesn’t hook into any security service or alert the cops. It’s much more deadly than that.
It calls in De Luca reinforcements.
Leo’s rich as fuck. Born into the job, the life, even has a personal chef. We all do well, but the De Luca name is one to be respected and feared. And yet never in a million years would he be so smug as that. He went to the best schools. Leo De Luca would spit on those idiotic boys’ faces.
No one is equal to Leo. But he also doesn’t make assumptions or judge. You earn respect. Family, friend, foe.
It’s one of the reasons I’m there with the family— that and his father.
But when Romano stepped down, if I didn’t fucking respect and like Leo, I’d have walked. I didn’t. And in my way, it says a lot.
Shit. I pull up and survey the street. It’s quiet, my little house is small but set back. The alarm system hasn’t gone off—I have it hooked to my phone. But it doesn’t mean there’s no one out here. And . . . yep, as I look, there’s a car across the street. And someone’s in it. I can’t see who, and I jot down the plate.
Going up to them is a fine plan. It could be nothing related, it could be definitely related, and I’m fucking thinking it’s the latter.
But going up?
