Page 63 of Driftwood Daffodil

“Is that an admission of guilt?”

Gio Mancini may think he had the upper hand, but I didn’t respond well to threats against the people I cared about.

“Why?” his head tilted to the side. “You gonna snitch?”

If he was hurting my brother, then fuck yes. I would scream that shit from the top of every building in town.

“You didn’t say shit to sister Anne.”

“That was different.” I could take care of myself. Kato was locked up in a cell with nowhere to go, or anyone to help.

“Was it?” Gio’s eyes narrowed.

I could feel him sizing me up, as if he was looking for an answer or some kind of explanation for my behavior this afternoon. He wouldn’t find one. It wasn’t something I could explain. Opportunity was right there staring me in the face, and what did I do? Nothing.

Maybe it was guilt, or maybe I just didn’t want the hassle of being pulled into the office. That was never a fun experience, especially when I had to go home to a less than impressed Maw Maw. Perhaps that’s why I kept my mouth shut? To save my sister from any further trauma.

Either way it was done now. I couldn’t say I’d act any differently if I found myself in the same situation.

“You know what I think,Nova…”

Didn’t really care what he thought.

“I think you’d do just about anything to save your brother.” Gio sat up. “Isn’t that right?”

I clamped my lips shut, refusing to respond. We both knew the answer to that question, and I was not about to give him an excuse to torment my brother. Not that he needed one.

“What do you say we test that theory out?”

My stomach sank before he barked out, “crawl.” As if I was some kind of pet for him to order around.

I was so far beyond done at this point. Even if I did what he said, it wouldn’t change anything. Kato would still be locked up, and Gio would still want to kill him.

“Are you fucking deaf,” Gio growled. “I said crawl.”

The big bad Mancini family’s image was a bunch of bullshit. They were no different than your basic bully. Which was why I couldn’t give in. This wouldn’t stop with one demand. There would be another tomorrow, and the next day, and so on. A line had to be drawn in the sand here and now.

So, I lifted my chin, looked Gio dead in the eyes, and hissed, “Make me.”

The twitch in the corner of his mouth was enough to make me question my sanity, but when his eyes flared with something dark, a swirling pit of dread began to seep into my bones.

Atlee wasn’t helping the situation any. The intrigue toying with his face caused me to think Gio might actually reach out and slap me. My muscles even tensed in preparation.

But that’s not what happened.

Instead of the violence I was expecting, Gio every so calmly slid back in the booth and said, “I’ll take some coffee.”

NOVALEE

Two hours, fifty-seven minutes, and thirteen seconds. That’s how long Gio Mancini sat in that booth watching me like a cobra getting ready to strike. Although, I did have to give his power of determination credit.

Ten minutes and I was done with my truck's tweed fabric. I’d barely made it home and was already shifting around like a kid on a sugar high. Mind you that could have something to do with the asshole who decided to occupy my workspace.

Prick called me over for every little thing he could think of. This table’s dirty, there’s a spot on my cup, the coffee is cold and my personal favorite, the service in this place sucks. Know what really sucked? The coffee – that I made sure was extra hot– that I accidently spilt on his lap. If my aim was right, then he wouldn’t be getting anything sucked for a while.

Yanking on the steering wheel, I revved my truck over the first speed bump into Sault Saint Marie Estates. The shocks were in desperate need of repair. One little jolt sent a whirling squeak through the cab. I probably shouldn’t have let it go this long without some maintenance. Then again, I probably shouldn’t have dumped coffee on Gio either. Oh well,c’est la vie. It was worth it, and kind of fun.

Someone had to make sure the prick was okay. The booths in Mae’s Good Eats were made of pleather. That shit wasn’t comfortable on a good day. It wasn’t comfortable on a bad day either. Not to mention the horribly padded benches that were impossible to take a nap on. Trust me I tried. Apparently sleeping on the counter was bad for business. Yet Gio didn’t seem to have a problem.

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