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“A workaholic family.”
He laughed and got up to go into the kitchen. “Calling me a deadbeat?”
“If your daughter keeps the same hours I do, she’s on call twenty-four seven.”
“I was always more interested in you keeping hours with my son.”
“Ah, another familiar topic. I don’t even know Ford,” she said, recognizing Strat’s teasing smile as he approached with two beers to hand one over. “I know him, but I don’t know, know him.”
If anyone should have a relationship, it should be her and Imogen, given the woman also dated Lachlan for years. Somehow, they hadn’t got it together as girlfriends, but she could hang out with Strat for hours and still be loathed to go home.
“Ford wouldn’t be able to handle you,” Strat said, settling in his chair again. “He’s all about the straight and narrow.”
“These days,” she said, amused. “These days he’s all about the straight and narrow. He hasn’t always been that way. Weren’t him and Dunn big on the underground fighting circuit? Chopping cars was their day job, but there’s a rumor…”
Myth? Legend? The city’s worst kept secret in certain circles.
“Yeah,” he said, sinking into his lounger again.
“You know your son learned his mischievous ways from you.”
“Yeah, thank God Bette took Immie.”
“You both made that choice though, right? Imogen went to live with her mom, and Ford stayed in the city with you.”
“Yeah, for all the good it did. We subjected Immie to enough scum and shady dealings when she was here on visits to scare her off for life. How come you think she was with the cop for so long? She wants a good guy.”
“They say women go for men like their fathers.”
“Bullshit,” he said. “It’s bullshit. Imogen wants a shining white knight hero. I couldn’t be further from that. Who the fuck have I ever saved?” He tipped his bottle toward her. “And the guys in your family are all good and righteous, living their virtuous lives, but you’re all about the bad boys. ‘Bout as far away from your pop as you could get… Why’d you think you spend so much time in the gutter with me?”
“This isn’t the gutter,” she said, glancing around. “I like your place.”
“And wading in with the Manzanis?” he asked. “Maybe Vex is exactly what you need, Scamp. You’re drawn to the dark side.”
“Dark is a better story.”
“Yeah,” he said, snickering as he swilled his beer. “The story’s what you want.”
“Don’t laugh like that,” she said, though her smile wasn’t too distant. “Why else would I pursue these families and their stories?”
“Oh, come on,” he said, reclining his chair. “You’re talking to one of the original bad boys. You think I don’t know what gets women like you off?” Her mouth opened in mock offense. He laughed again. “Hell, I lived on a steady diet of pussy just like yours for decades. Guys like me, the rough, dark, dangerous guys? We can sniff it out and know exactly how to get what we want without giving a shit if we hurt you.”
“Evander obviously missed that memo. Or you’re wrong about me.”
“You need a man, Scamp. Vex is not man enough for you.” Funny, she’d recently said the same thing… close to it anyway. “Growing up with your family… there’s pressure on the good just like the bad.”
“I could never live up to my father’s expectations.”
“Because you don’t have a dick.”
“Pretty much,” she said, drinking some beer.
“Your daddy’s bold… probably just as ruthless as Silvio Manzani or Burl McDade.”
Burl McDade was Ire’s uncle. Ire’s incarcerated uncle.
“We haven’t talked much about the McDades in prison.”
