Page 114 of Extradition (Mobsters + Billionaires 1)
RAND
Joe placeshis hand on my back, warm and supportive as we make our way through the penthouse and into the foyer. Hopper stands in my entryway looking like a man who means to do harm.
According to Joe, I’m supposed to take solace in the fact that he means no harm to either of us, but it’s a struggle. And when Hopper’s inscrutable eyes land on Joe’s hand still resting on my lower back, I brace, no clue what might come out of his mouth. He looks at us for half a beat, tilting his head to the side, then shrugs, holding up a white bag.
“I brought donuts.”
I stifle a laugh, and Joe covers his smile with his hand.
“Hey, Hopper,” Joe says, his eyes bright with laughter. “Would you like that with some coffee? Perhaps a cappuccino?”
The neutral look on his face breaks, and he smiles. I can’t tell if I’m disturbed or enchanted. Most people look a little goofy when they smile, but not Hopper. He looks even more handsome and a lot more deadly.
Joe growls a little in my ear and turns me toward the kitchen, and I surreptitiously elbow him in the side. “Jealous?” I whisper out of the side of my mouth.
“No.”
I love his disgruntled face.
We make it into the kitchen, and I set up espresso shots while Grayson puts the donuts on a platter, which he sets out on the bar. We each grab a barstool, but before we can choose our first donut of the morning, Hopper pushes the platter toward Grayson. “Dealer’s choice.”
Grayson looks pleased, if a little wary. “Why, thank you, Mr. Hopper.”
“It’s just Hopper. No Mr.”
“Then, thank you, Hopper,” Grayson says, selecting an apple fritter.
That squared, Hopper tugs the platter back in front of the three of us, and we go to town on the delicious pastries. I’m about to make fun of the fact that one of his choices is a cronut, but then I taste it and decide to keep my mouth shut.
As we’re winding down our carb and caffeine fueled breakfast, Joe knocks on the bar surface and asks, “All right, we’ve eaten. What’s going on?”
Hopper smiles again, but this is not the happy smile from the foyer. It is a much more calculated thing, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
“Luca’s busy today but wanted me to let you know that the bodies from the museum have all been taken care of, real discreet-like. Nary a cop in sight, and we aim to keep it that way.”
“Any loose ends from my father’s side of things?” Joe asks, his lips in a thin line.
“A few. But I spent most of my morning tying them up, and I’ll be done by this afternoon.”
“No police involvement?”
Hopper tilts his hand side to side. “Eh. The right kind of police involvement if you catch my drift.”
Joe nods, then knits his brows together. “I catch your drift. That all the updates you got for me?”
Hopper nods. “Yep.”
“Excellent. Then I’m gonna ask you—politely—to take a hike.”
Hopper laughs. “Of course. Would be rude of me to get in the way of all the fucking.”
I go bright red, but Joe is laughing with Hopper, so…yay? I guess they won’t find me chopped up into bits and thrown into the Hudson. I let out a breath, which causes him to chuckle as he makes his way back to the elevator. Throwing us a backward wave, he disappears into the elevator car, and I realize Grayson wouldn’t have let him up without checking with me first.
Which means the man I’m assuming makes Ted Bundy look like a kitten has easy access to my space.
Joe cups my jaw. “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll ask Luca to rescind Hopper’s access. Nobody wants that scary-ass dude having free rein over things.”
“Thank you.”
