Page 8 of Bad Medicine
Chapter two
Rocco
Couldthisshitbeany fuckin’ funnier?
Enzo, my friend, my brother from another mother, accepted a marriage contract to buy his way into the Mafia like his dad, and what does he get?
Some simpering, pampered, shopaholic girl who only wants to spend his money?
Not a chance.
He went and landed himself a verified badass, a woman so fuckin’ cool, she’s stone cold.
Leaning against the railing that overlooked the mixed martial arts fight below, I watched as Francesca verbally decimated that crooked gaming commission moron, Jerry, drawing the attention of every person in the VIP booth.
Which might not have been a good thing.
I stood there, observing, as Anton,Pakhanof the local Bratva, studied her every move, assessing her for her importance and potential weaknesses.
And like fuck was I gonna let that fly. She may not bemywoman, but she was still mine to protect. She mattered to Enzo—even though the stubborn fuck was still trying to deny it—and so it was up to me to keep her safe.
As I moved to stand behind her, guarding her back just as I would have for Enzo, the big kid she had with her moved to her other side, having obviously had the same thought I did.
I gave him a nod, which he returned, a little slow, like he was shocked I was being nice or some shit, but still. I thought he was holding up well, considering this was probably his first day on the job.
Talk about trial by fire.
“You are not the only game in town, Lebowitz,” Francesca spat at Jerry, her voice carrying over the sound of the crowd below us. “Not by a long shot.”
Jerry sniveled some more, turning to Enzo for help, but Enzo acted as though Jerry hadn’t even spoken.
No, at that moment, he only had eyes for his woman, standing up and heading to her while everyone watched, not bothering to hide their excitement.
Shit, we shoulda sold tickets for this show; probably woulda outsold the fuckin’ fight.
Enzo finally wised up, moving across the VIP booth to stand by his woman, and that meant it was time for me to step back. Nudging Francesca’s guy, I shook my head and motioned for him to follow, taking us to stand at the railing by the stairs, next to Lexi and her ridiculous grandma sweater.
“So, what is this?” I asked, loving her immediate scowl. “You and Francesca doin’ some kinda Freaky Friday shit or somethin’?” She was wearing some sort of buttoned up sweater that I knew had come from Francesca’s closet, the itchy looking thing covering her from neck to navel,andit had long sleeves. I’d never seen something that was so anti-Lexi. Her usual look was moreTank GirlthanGolden Girl.
Lexi rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest while she tossed her head of blue hair back in that way only women could manage to pull off.
“I don’t think it’s any of your business, Rocco.”
“Well,” I said, throwing my arm around her shoulder. “I, for one, think it looks great on you.” Looking up at me, Lexi raised a skeptical eyebrow. “All the residents at the old folks’ home will be fighting over who gets to share their pudding cup with you.”
The snort that came from the guy beside her was loud, but he tried hard to cover it with a cough.
Reaching past Lexi, I extended my hand.
“Rocco Campanelli,” I drawled, squeezing firm when he slid his hand into mine.
Kid matched me with a knuckle-grinding grip of his own.
“Vincent,” was all he said. Narrowing my eyes, I sized him up; he was big enough, that was for sure, but big didn’t always mean shit when it came right down to it.
I opened my mouth, prepared to ask him what the fuck he thought qualified him to have Francesca’s back, when out of the corner of my eye I caught Jerry fuckin’ Lebowitz skulking through the crowd, head down as he made a beeline for the exit with his tail between his legs.
“That asshole,” Jerry grumbled, his eyes on the floor, meaning he didn’t see me standing right next to him. “Someone should put that bitch on a leash.”
