Page 47 of Unwrapped

“Nothing wrong with a little mess.”

“Unless it’s somebody’s heart laying in a twisted heap.

“Since when do you give a damn about anyone’s heart?”

“Since…I started remembering what’s it’s like…to want…to want to be loved.”

“Oh.” She simply says turning from the door. “Come on. Food’s getting cold.”

I didn’t lie. She’s not my type. But as I watch the taillights turn red as he brakes at the end of the drive, I wonder why it feels like he’s on my date. In my shoes. Sitting somewhere where I’m supposed to be. Which makes absolutely no damned sense since I can’t stand the woman. I just want to fuck her. Hard. I pinch the bridge if my nose. It’s gonna be a long-ass night.

The bar is packed. I press gently on the gas nosing into the back lot. Sally tried her best, but I’ve been in a mood ever since Shiloh left me standing in the small lobby area sporting half a woody.

In Chicago, I was practically a god. Revered. Feared. No one ever gets the better of me least of all a woman. No matter how sassy her mouth is.

“Great.” My teeth grind at the sight of Federico’s truck parked under a lamplight wrapped in garland and blinking lights.

I sit for minute before getting out. Rog needs me here tonight. I’ll babysit his bar for him, but I can’t promise I won’t smash something tonight.

The pledge guarding the backdoor nods as I enter. Music moves through the walls. The beat vibrating straight through me. Familiar smells bring me back. Beer. Cigars. Cinnamon and cloves. French fries and Christmas Pines. It’s sensory overload. I tap a knuckle on Rog’s office door not waiting for his response before entering.

He looks up from where he sits behind his desk, a pair of black-rimmed reading glasses are perched on his nose.

“Take a seat. Help yourself to a drink. I’m finishing up payroll.”

“I’ll drink when the place clears out.”

He nods. “Thanks for doing this. The boys are clearing out in the morning. Smith and Luce are in Vancouver for Christmas. Federico is running point on the meet.”

“Is her ready for that?”

“He is the VP.”

“Who’s the meet with.”

“Chicago mob.”

“Roque?”

“His point men. He said he’s staying in the city to do you a favor.”

“He had a big mouth for a DON.”

Rog grins. “He wanted to know if you were available to play Santa at his Christmas Eve party.”

“I’m going to kill you old man.”

Rog throws back his head. His booing laughter shakes the walls as much as the bass.

My face heats. I slide his phone across his desk and raise my fist with every intention of smashing it to bits.

“Loosen up, Dare. It’s clean fun.”

“At my expense.”

“This is what family does, son.”

That word again.

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