Page 147 of The Mafia's Broken Vows

Nico nods grimly.

“So, why didn’t he just let them go? Why bring them to you?” I ask.

“Because they’re badly shaken and have nowhere to go. Most of them actually want to go back, if you can believe it.”

I can, if they’re anything like Mezhen, the woman Addy met while she was trapped there. I lean back, my mind racing. Cade Quinn decimating the Shadow gang? It doesn’t add up. “Since when are we and Quinn on the same team?”

Nico scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “We’re so fucking not. He’s just a demented meddler and show-off, that’s what he is.”

I can’t help but smirk. “I take it you didn’t say thank you?”

“Hell no,” Nico growls, his expression darkening further at my amusement. “What I desperately wanted to say was a giant ‘Fuck off’.”

“But you didn’t?” Addy breathes.

He glances at Addy. “No, I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

Addy lets out a breath, her face lighting up in relief. “Thank you so much, Nico.” The warmth in her voice makes me want to roll my eyes.

The fucker gets my woman’s eternal gratitude just for not telling some schmuck to take a hike?

“You’re welcome.” Nico smiles back, then sighs. “I don’t suppose you’ll pitch in an explanation to my wife as to why I couldn’t say no to sixteen former sex slaves taking up residence in her favorite house? In a way that doesn’t end with me sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future, that is.”

“Sounds like fun,” Addy chuckles, her eyes twinkling.

I snort. “If you weren’t too busy grinding your teeth, Nico, you might’ve asked Quinn for a manual on ‘How to Look After Trafficked Women 101.’ But it’s still not too late to have a chat with him, let him walk you through the home installation.”

Nico sneers. “He’s a fucking caveman. The man probably thinks ‘chatting’ means discussing the most efficient way to disembowel someone.”

“Which would be excellent information for our Associates. Hate him as much as you want. Quinn’s not entirely bad company,” I quip, earning myself a glare from Nico.

I catch Addy’s brow furrow in confusion, her green eyes clouding with questions. Leaning in close, I whisper, my lips brushing her ear, “Associates are men who aren’t made yet.”

Her mouth forms a silent “Oh,” understanding dawning on her face. She bites her lower lip, thinking, then suggests in a hesitant but hopeful voice, “What about them staying in one of your hotels? Like the Marston?”

I glance at Nico, letting him field this one. He shakes his head, his expression grim. “Not discreet or safe enough,” he says simply, his feet tapping a restless rhythm on the floor.

Addy straightens from me to face Nico fully. “How about if you bought a place and kept them there?” she asks.

I stifle a laugh as Nico subtly pales.

“Baby,” I explain gently, placing a hand on her knee, “we don’t keep women.” The satin smoothness of her skin calls to me, and I can’t help but stroke my fingers across the strip of skin between her knee and the hem of her red dress.

Addy’s eyebrows knit again as she looks between Nico and me. “But what does Cade expect you to do with these broken women?”

“He said he brought them for his sister,” Nico says blandly. “To fix, or something.”

“And what if Sophie doesn’t want them?” Addy presses, leaning forward slightly.

Nico pauses, running a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Well, then I guess I’m stuck.” Then he looks up and pins Addy with an intense gaze. “Unless you’d like to take them? Dante said you connected with a few of the women.”

Addy’s eyes widen, and she stiffens beside me. After a moment of stunned silence, she sputters, “Connected?” She whirls to face me.

I shrug, remembering how I’d sung Addy’s praises to Nico and Sal. “You can read people, baby. Well, except for the times you choose not to.” Like Benjamin O’Shea. Like me, during those three months after we first met at Loyola.

Her cheeks flush a rosy pink as she struggles to form a response. “I don’t know what you mean,” she hedges.

“Precisely my point,” I smile.

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