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“I’m very grateful,” I say through a mouthful of bacon and eggs. And I am. I don’t think anyone’s ever brought me food before—except the staff at Redwood, I suppose, but they’re paid to do it.
“I got herbal tea if you prefer,” Leo says, opening the one cupboard in his kitchen. “Rach—Raven gave them to me once. Peppermint.”
“I hate peppermint,” I say at once. “But Leo, I need another favor after this.”
“What’s that?” He leans against the sink, and I can’t help running my eyes over him. Six feet five inches of muscles that are meant to be admired; so wide he almost filled up the doorway as he came through it. My eyes linger on his hands. The tattoos that gave him away to me.
I still haven’t had that bear paw inside me. That’s a lack we’ll have to remedy—some time before this game is over.
“I want to go back to the port, check out the docks where we were messing around last night.”
He shrugs. “Bodies are all gone. I got the dock crew to take care of it. They said that sniper never took out anyone else. Never even fired another shot.”
That’s exactly why I want to go back. “All the same,” I say casually. “I’d like your permission to go back, Leo. As Bernardi Enforcer. Your people don’t often enjoy my company when they’re gifted with it.”
He grins at that. “You got that right. Fine, I’ll take you back. But you gotta rest until that 24 hour period is up.”
“I’m not glass. I don’t break that easily. I want to go around sunset. I want to make sure I can still see the surrounds clearly.”
He looks at me for a long time, thinking his leonine thoughts. What runs around in that Bernardi head of his?
“Okay,” he says at last. “But you should shower first. You stink of cum.”
I take a sniff.
He has a point.
CHAPTER20
LEO
I takeJulian back to the docks, against my better judgment. The sky has burned the sky into shades of orange and red by the time we get there, but we still have a half-hour of light left.
I stop at the checkpoint to let Olivieri’s men know we’re here. Julian is wearing a helmet, with his balaclava underneath too, which means they can’t see his face, and I vouch for him. The boys don’t like strangers, especially faceless strangers, which is good, but I don’t like the glances they give each other.
“There a problem here?” I shout over the sound of the bike’s engine, letting my hand rest against my thigh.
“Go on through,” the guard says at last.
The docks are bustling with activity as usual, though there’s an air of subdued tension in the air. Everyone knows that something happened last night, and if it weren’t for my father’s pull in various places, the port would still be swarming with law enforcement. As it is, we’ve beefed up the Bernardi security presence on each dock, and the workers move quickly and carefully, not wanting to draw too much attention to themselves.
I park the bike and we continue on foot. Julian has been quiet since we left my apartment, lost in thought. As we reach the area we were in last night, he pauses for a moment and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before continuing on. His every movement is measured and precise, just like his fighting.
Just like his fucking, too. He acts chaotic, but I know him better now. There’s always a method to his madness.
Julian’s eyes linger on a patch of PacSyn blood still visible on a wooden crate, and then he turns to view the skyline, eyes moving from option to option as he checks angles. We get to the exact spot we were in last night, obvious from the huge fucking hole in the side of a shipping container, and Julian turns around to look at the surrounds again with narrowed eyes.
“The sniper was on that crane over there,” he says, pointing towards one of several soaring Panamax cranes lined up. “Do you agree?”
“Sure.” I’m not much for forensics. When a guy shoots at me, I shoot back. But it’s roughly the same one I figured it had to be last night, too. “Does it matter, though?”
“Of course it matters. Whoever the shooter was, it wasn’t PacSyn. They prefer to scurry around like rats on the ground, not fly up high like a bird of prey. They don’t have the patience needed, or the foresight.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Julian smiles faintly at my skepticism. “Come with me up on that crane,” is all he says.
* * *
