Men like Kosyak hold all the power. Touch one single hair on their mother, or anyone they love, and they will cross the ocean to retaliate.
Fuck. This situation got out of hand with national publicity due to slain cops. The Feds are one step away from taking over. But Captain Raynor, the Chief of Police, and our entire division expects this situation to be resolved inside. With Kosyak in the mix, the shit can only get uglier.
It’s almost seven p.m., when my sports car zooms into underground parking. The exhaust sound is amplified by the cement walls. The windows are down, and I have been ruminating over Egor Dobrynin’s words during the drive over. There're too many fucking alphas running around, desiring to be king. If what he's saying is true, Kosyak, who has no respecter of persons, is looking for Riker. His people knocked off Cooper because Kosyak’s searching for him. He wants to catch up with Riker before I do.
I've got a bone to pick with that motherfucker, Riker, and the Don of the western illegal alcohol syndicate will not come between that no matter how much he believes he's above the law.
The doorman was all smiles when I arrived this evening. Holding a carton of Chinese food for dinner, I rubbed the fingertips of my other hand together in anticipation of Reese, naked and sprawled out on my bed. Or Reese, sitting spread eagle on the chaise lounge right at the entrance of my home.
The blood rushing through my body died in less than a second as I open the front door and have to press the light switch on the wall. Bright lights bathe the room in light. The large area is devoid of her smile, her sweet, intoxicating scent; it’s devoid of her.
I notice a powder-blue box on the dining room table, the silver Flour Shoppe insignia on the side, and I head over there. On top of the box is a short note, which reads: “Just thought I’d see how nice the doorman is. (wink)”
A smile tips the left side of my mouth. I open the top of the box. Steam rises from the flaky, golden crust of a personal-size chicken pot pie. I pull out my cell phone and dial Reese’s number.
“You home?” Reese asks once the call connects.
“Just got in, to my surprise dinner is ready.” I pick up the Chinese food in order to chuck it into the kitchen trashcan.
“Is it still hot… I mean uh…” The laughter of her voice dies, and if I’m correct, Reese is reminiscing on the world of trouble she got into over a lukewarm agnolotti-bolognese. The spontaneity fades as she says, “I saw on the news that the awful Kosyak is part of the La Brea shootout and…”
Since Reese is stumbling over her words, I speak up, “Well, thank you, it means a lot that you considered me.”
“Don’t read anything into it, Evan. I just walked into the dining room of Flour. I’m still on the clock. Anyhoo, I’d cooked dinner for my entire work family tonight. As I’ve said, it’s nothing special. And if you’ve already eaten dinner, put it in Tupperware for breakfast or chuck it. Tossing it works too.”
I nod my head. Why is the woman on the phone so different than the chick that drove her ass over here a while ago?
“I’m not chucking it, Reese, and it’s still warm.” I grab the pie up, and head toward the kitchen for a fork.
“Okay… well, it was just the sisterly thing to do.”
“Umhmmm,” my response is terse. Tomorrow, I’ll see her ass tomorrow evening at my dad’s. It seems we need to jog her memory once more of our little arrangement. For the past few weeks I've decided to allow Reese her space.
“What do you mean umhmmm, Evan,” she counters.
I smile, the wee Little Lamb is turning into the tart from the bar.
“You’ll see what I mean tomorrow, tart.”
“Evan, I’m bringing my boyfriend, you should bring someone too.” It’s as if she’s going through a tunnel, her words begin to echo in my ear.
I have to repeat what Reese says, “You're bringing your boyfriend to the event?” I take on indifference. She's playing a game that she can't win. I don't need words to persuade Reese Dunham. My actions speak it all. In less than twenty-four hours whatever guy she's nabbed is getting the fucking boot. Family or not, Reese is mine.
20
Reese
“What the fuck did I just do?” I whisper to myself, sitting on one of the chrome stools in the dining room of Flour. My elbows rest on the table, foolish face in my hands.
Seeing Grayson reminded me of the kind, sweet guy he'd once been. My slice of simple pie in a hectic world. Though the meditation time has forced me to realize, he and I really were better friends than lovers, Grayson has made me want a man in a suit again. And the only Suit who can do the trick is my friggen stepbrother.
I glance out the window; the moon is full and milky. It’s taunting me that only strange things can happen, and heck yeah; I just did the darndest thing. I got angry with Evan for virtually no reason. He’d called to thank me for being considerate. Sheesh, it’s not even that time of the month. I’m just jealous over what we’ll never be able to have.
“I don't have a boyfriend. I don't want one. I only want him!” I whimper into my fingers. Mouth tensed, I close my eyes so tightly that my forehead tenses. “Shit, shit, shit. Why did I just do that? Who the hell is going to play my mate?” Self-talk helps me rationalize it. “No, I’ll just attend the event solo, and keep my ass away from Jamie.”
I nod my head, that sounds like a plan. Until I enter the
