Page 2 of Diamond In The Rough

I walk beside Felix, because he has a meeting today we must attend, which means I’m strapped to the nines, and my eyes get no rest. Our father is dead, and Lix is the new don, and even if he was not the perpetrator of the crimes Timothy committed while in charge, grudges run deep—not only among rival families, but within the Federal Bureau.

Felix is a target for many. So I am his protector. His enforcer. His front line, and the first that will fall when the time comes.

“Remind me again why we couldn’t do this at the house?” I wander closer to a parked panel van, closed up and seemingly empty. But I slam the side of my fist to the steel door and chuckle when those listening inside scramble backward and rock the vehicle on its chassis.

They think they’re slick.

With today’s technology, and the money flowing through the Feds’ building, it boggles my mind that they haven’t yet switched out the pedo vans for something a little more… discreet.

“Want us to bring you some coffee?” I turn and walk backwards, grinning when Special Agent Trueman slides the door open and pokes his head through the gap. He’s a fat, balding, older man, looking to make a juicy collar before retirement. But he won’t take Felix—not for as long as I remain a free man and guarding his back. “Strudel, maybe?” I suggest.

Trueman flips me off, his cheeks and jowls an ugly shade of red that implies blood pressure issues.

He should probably talk to his doctor about that.

“You’re an asshole,” Felix sniggers, grabbing my sleeve and spinning me back around so I can do my job properly. “You’re gonna be the reason he slits his own wrists.”

“Why? Because he’s a trained agent who hides behind telephone poles for a living?” I drop my hands in my pockets and scan the street once more. “Dude’s a fuckin’ dud. I’d say it’s time he turns in his badge, but I’m not sure I want them to assign a new suit to your file.”

“You don’t wanna get to know a new agent?”

“I don’t want to meet new people, period.” I clock Dustin at the end of the block and stand taller. “People annoy me. And leaving the house pisses me off.”

“You need to socialize more.” Felix straightens his spine, too. His words sound jovial, but his clenching jaw is proof that he understands the risks we take today.

He’s the second most powerful mafioso in the fucking country; with that role comes certain dangers. We’ve conducted business inside our clubs for decades. We’ve struck deals at our dining table more times than I can count. We’ve controlled our world, and as such, we’ve remained safe.

But Dustin wanted a meet on the street. And call me a fuckin’ cynic, but that feels like bad juju.

“I don’t wanna socialize,” I grit out, low enough that only Felix can hear. “Why are we in public?”

“Pastore’s with the fishes. Folks are feeling a little jittery right now.”

“Pastore was a bitch who came for your girl. Men don’t survive that.”

“No.” Maniacal, Lix peers across and grins. “They don’t. But we still have business to conduct and a lifestyle to maintain. Especially now that we’re restructuring.”

He silences as we approach, then broadens his shoulders and allows his lips to curl into a faux-friendly smile. “Dustin Delamont.” He doesn’t offer his hand, but comes to a stop when four feet still separate him and the other man, and sets both hands on his hips.

Felix has this way of being entirely friendly, but deadly at the same time.

It’s a skill I’ve never quite mastered.

Dustin’s eyes come to mine, his face paling when I don’t offer the same smile my brother does.

“M-Mr. Malone.” He brings his focus back to Lix and dips his chin in submission. “I really appreciate you coming to meet with me today.”

“Yes, well…” Felix’s jaw clenches behind the week-long growth he permanently boasts. “You owe me money, Delamont. And you’ve found yourself in a situation of hardship.”

“I-I owed your father money.” His eyes are milky blue, like the universe couldn’t decide whether to bless him with a perfect blue sky in the summer, or a muddy puddle after rain. Either way, they remain downcast. Afraid. “I was in business with your father, Mr. Malone.”

“And now he’s dead.” Felix drags his hand from his pocket and pulls out the silver blade I know he holds merely for something to fuss with.

Rarely, if ever, has he used it to slice a man’s flesh. It’s just a fidget to keep his restless hands busy. But those who stand opposite him don’t know that. All they see is a threat. A bowel-liquifying promise.

“Timothy is gone, Dustin. So now you’re dealing with me.” My brother studies the guy before us with his shrewd, green stare. “I’m certain you understand that your debts remain, even after Tim’s death.”

“Well, I’d hoped?—”

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