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For the first category, it’s smart to sever ties the minute the dick riding is done.
And the second group needs to be shaken off just as quickly before they start becoming a nuisance.
Conner is different. He is no ferocious brute, nor is he an obedient fuck boy. His nice guy image is for real and yet there’s also a sting of aggression in the way he demands the right to call the shots.
He’s got something else going for him too. No other man haseverhad me looking at a doorway and hoping he’ll walk through it.
Part of me despises him for that. The rest of me will be watching the door again tonight.
“Conner Wiseman.”
I nearly tumble out of my chair. For a horrifying second I think I’ve uttered his name out loud while daydreaming. “What?”
Talon’s slimy grin is pointed at me. “Got a heads up from the Carino brothers that this football fucker was slumming in our territory last night, wandering around like a sad puppy.” Talon scrapes his ring on his jaw and lets the suspense build. “It seems he was looking for you, cuz.”
FUCK!
It never crossed my mind that Conner might decide to go traipsing blindly through a bunch of seedy dumps and asking for me by name, an act that would generate exactly the worst kind of notice. Why the hell didn’t he do something sensible, like ask his freaking cousin where to find the club? Micah would have told him.
Yet this is at least partly my fault. And the thread of guilt mingles with a buzz of excitement. The combination feels unhealthy.
I assumed that Conner understood what my family was about. Maybe he does understand and just doesn’t care.
But now my father is listening in. “What does the Cyclones quarterback want with you?”
I shrug. “No idea.”
Talon is enjoying the can of worms he’s opened. “You went to high school with him, right?”
“Yeah. So what? Maybe he’s on the reunion committee.”
I have to break my glare with Talon in order to sneak a glance at the head of the table. My father rubs his jaw, his expression already flattening into disinterest.
Good. I’m not about to explain my relationship to Conner.
Relationship.
Not the right word. At least no one else heard me say it.
“Haven, you know Conner Wiseman?” Robert gapes at me with a new level of respect. I should have seen that coming. Robert loves sports. He can probably recite Conner’s stats off the top of his head.
Before I can open my mouth to answer him, my father slaps his hand on the table. “Time is short and I have some key points so listen up because you know I don’t fucking repeat myself. I’ll be taking one for the team and reporting to my temporary cage on Friday.”
He stops and lets his sharp eyes rest on each of us in turn. “Don’t think of me as gone because I’ll be in the loop every day. Nothing will get past me and I know you won’t even fucking try. At the moment we’ve got more eyeballs than usual on us so your orders are as follows; DO NOT give a reason for the spotlight to shine. Caution is the name of the game for right now. No escalations, you get it?”
My father isn’t really waiting for our nods of obedience. His gaze lands squarely on Talon. Last week my shitbag cousin took a mallet to the back of some stockbroker’s skull after losing a boat to him in a poker game. The body is lying in a brick of cement on the floor of Lake Poppy and while my father cares nothing about dead stockbrokers, he doesn’t relish going to so much trouble for no reason.
Talon is smart enough to know when to keep his mouth shut. He even manages to slouch in his chair and lower his eyes. My father still has a soft spot for his nephews but I know better. Talon is as honorable and remorseful as a hyena.
Satisfied that this prickly topic is out of the way, my dad nods to his younger brother. “Estes will be on a plane to Palermo tomorrow. He has some new friends and they’re hungry for stateside opportunities. Because he’ll be spending a lot of time there in the coming months, Dez will take the reins while I’m in lockup.”
Right now I wish I still had long nails. A prick of pain would be welcome when I dig my fingers into the meat of my palm. Erupting is out of the question. The only thing to do is keep my face impassive as a scream roars through my head. I don’t need to look across the table to know that my cousins are gloating.
Neither of my uncles are trustworthy but at least Estes is capable and he stays out of my way. Desmond, on the other hand, is lazy and weak. His sons easily overrule him at every turn.
While my father is temporarily out of the picture, Desmond won’t be running the show. They will.
My father moves on briskly, pointing to Jared next and asking for a Vegas update. I’m not listening too hard while my cousin’s nasally, self-important voice drones on about casinos.
