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“Now, that I can’t remember. Italian? Russian? It was one of those. It’s been a while you know. Malachi called him Abraham though.”
I sigh. This was worthless. I knew it was a longshot going in, but I was praying I was wrong.
“Well, I’m sorry we took up your time, Mildred.”
“I enjoyed it. Not often an old biddy like me gets two gentlemen callers that look like they stepped out of my television from two of my favorite shows.” I get up and EZ does, too. He’s considerably slower because he has to lift the huge cat off his lap and place her gently on the couch.
“What show is that?” I ask her, genuinely interested.
“Well, you look like you walked off my favorite soap, Days of Our Lives. Put a suit on you and you could definitely be one of Stefano DeMira’s family. As for your buddy, I’m thinking he could be from Sons of Anarchy.”
EZ laughs with Mildred’s analogy, but the cat Melissa must have decided she wanted more pets and was upset she wasn’t getting them. She jumps up EZ’s leg and proceeds to let out a loud screech right before she sinks her little kitty teeth into his ass.
“Motherfucker!” he growls, as the cat jumps off the couch and takes off running like the fires of hell is on her heels.
“Melissa is a biter,” Mildred says like this is a common occurrence. “I could clean your patootie with some alcohol if you want.”
I grin and do my best to not to bust out laughing. EZ shakes his head. “No thanks, Mildred, as tempting as that offer is, I don’t think my wife would appreciate it. She might do something to retaliate and never touch my ass again, and I like it when she does. Besides, she bites my ass often and it hurts more than Melissa’s.”
I’d say he was joking, but I’ve met Liberty and I’m pretty sure he’s not.
“Lucky woman,” Mildred says. I don’t bother to stop my laughter now. I walk toward the door shaking my head.
It’s time I head back home to Miami. Gia was right, I should have stayed home.
When we make it out to our bikes—mine borrowed from one of EZ’s men—I hop on, feeling more than a little defeated.
“Don’t look so glum asshole. I didn’t come all this way just to let some pussy bite my ass.”
“Well, that’s all you got. We didn’t get anything we can use in there.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” EZ answers, confusing the fuck out of me.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Let’s get back to the clubhouse and see if Ghost can work his magic. I’ve got a hunch and I want to see if I’m right.” He starts his bike and gives me a wink, before talking again. He raises his voice to yell over the sound of his bike. “Don’t worry, I’m usually always right.”
He peels out and leaves me to follow him, which I do while praying the crazy son of a bitch is right.
angelina
. . .
I wince as I slowly pull myself awake. I feel like I’ve been on a three-day bender. Not that I ever drink that much, but my head feels like what I imagine it would if I did. I lay back on my pillow, afraid to open my eyes. For a minute, I’m going to pretend my head isn’t pounding. I’ve had migraines before, but this feels different—and somehow more painful.
“You’re awake.”
My body jerks in reaction to the voice.What is Sam doing in my bedroom?
“Sam?” I mutter, forcing my eyes to open.
For a minute everything around me is blurry. I blink trying to focus. When that doesn’t work, I rub my eyes and try again. Eventually, I manage to clear my vision enough to see him standing beside my bed, holding a pitcher. I do my best to turn, keeping my blanket pulled up tight. I’m completely disoriented and as I slowly look around the room, I realize that it’s not mine at all. I’m also completely dressed, except for my shoes. My gaze moves up to Sam and I see guilt written all over his face.
“Angie—”
“What did you do?” I growl.
“I’m trying to keep you safe,” he replies calmly. He’s so calm that I want to slap him. He grabs a glass off a large cherry nightstand with a marble top. It matches the huge four-poster bed. The posts go up at least eight feet and they are encircled by an intricate wrought iron structure that has a pale white material draped through it expertly, encircling the bed and yet pulled back to look beautiful. If I wasn’t in the middle of a nightmare, I’d take more time to appreciate the beauty and opulence of the whole room. Instead, I’m thinking of killing Sam.
