Page 12 of The Prices We Pay
The minute the elevator reaches the top floor, we’re assaulted with the sound of Ian Munsick and Cody Johnson’s “Long Live Cowgirls.”
Enzo turns his nose up in disgust while Luca and I ready our hands at the guns on our hips.
Nobody should be here.
“This sounds like the shit you listen to, D.”
“It’s country music, and it’s not shit.”
Stealthily, Luca and I move a few feet forward before Enzo starts to whisper-shout behind us, “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I don’t think anyone who listens to a song about cowgirls in wagons is dangerous. Grow some balls.”
Impatiently, he practically stampedes down the hallway, only stopping when he gets to the office of our new raven-haired customs broker.
Judging by the stupid smile on his face, it’s fair to assume there’s no threat.
The two of us flank Enzo on either side, and the moment I take in the scene before us, my entirebody feels like it completely relaxes for the first time in years.
Joe sits cross-legged on the floor of her office, wearing black sweatpants and a gray hoodie, while the clothes she was wearing earlier today are in a neatly folded pile on the sofa. Her dark hair is up in a messy bun, and thick tortoiseshell glasses frame her face.
She looks…stunning.
Her laptop sits on the floor in front of her, accompanied by her phone and a Bluetooth speaker. Piles of paperwork and folders are strewn across the rug around her. She sings along to the song as she stares intently at whatever is on her screen, not even noticing that three large men dressed in tactical gear are standing in her doorway.
We shouldn’t let her see us like this, but none of us can seem to get ourselves to move.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Enzo pull his phone out of his pocket and take a picture of the woman before us. The love-struck look on his face is as clear as day.
“What are you doing?” Luca bites out in a whisper.
“Making her my wallpaper, obviously. I told you, I’m a man in love.”
“You’re such an idiot sometimes.”
“I don’t even care. Look at her, Amico.”
Luca inhales a deep breath. “Oh, I am.”
My eyes dart between their matching expressions of absolute adoration. And I know damn well that if I had a mirror, I would see the same thing looking back at me.
Well, this should be interesting.
“Come on, we should go,” Luca whispers.
Enzo slowly holds his hand up. “Not yet. Just one more sec—”
Luca’s phone chimes in his pocket, likely Sebastian wondering what’s taking us so long. “Shit,” he bites out, grabbing at the cargo pocket in his pants.
In the span of half a second, Joe looks over at us and screams at the top of her lungs.
“Sweetheart, it’s just us,” Enzo says, consoling her in the smoothest voice he can manage.
After a moment, Joe’s screaming ceases, yet she remains on the floor, hands clutched to her chest, breathing heavily as she looks up at the three of us. “What in the fuck is wrong with the three of you?!”
Enzo squats down in front of her. “We’re sorry. We didn’t realize you’d be here. We just had to come up to grab a couple of things.”
Her forehead pinches as she takes a closer look at our appearance. “What in the hell are the three of you wearing? Who are you, fucking G.I. Joe?”
I snort out a laugh under my breath as Enzo answers, “We were just, uh… we were—”
