Page 7 of Effortless

“Donati here,” a familiar voice answered.

Tom balanced the phone between his shoulder and ear as he grabbed a couple of things from the closet. “Cross, man, what’s up?”

“Not much, Tom. Something come up with the next run, or what?”

“Nope.”

Tom wasn’t surprised the first thing Cross thought at his phone call was business. It was just who Cross Donati was at the end of the day. Business first, and everything else was secondary. Cross came from a New York Cosa Nostra family—another boss’s son, like Tom. The two had made fast friends when Cross and Tom got put together as partners when the Outfit started trafficking guns. It helped that Cross was only a couple of years older than Tom, but didn’t treat him like a kid, or as though he was where he was because of his last name.

Their friendship lasted.

A couple of months back, Cross headed home to New York after living in Chicago for almost three years. He hadn’t been back, but a gun run was coming up soon. Tom figured he would see his friend then.

Fate had different plans.

“You busy?” Tom asked.

Cross chuckled dryly. “Man, I am always busy. Not more than usual, though. Heading over to my parents’ place today to see them.”

“No, I mean for the next week or so. Maybe more.”

“What?”

“I thought I might visit,” Tom said.

“Door’s always open for you, Tom.”

New York was a sufficient distance from Chicago to make it worth the cramped flight. A familiar face made it welcoming enough, too.

“My flight leaves tomorrow in the morning,” Tom said.

“Let me know when you land.”

Friends like Cross were hard to come by.

CHAPTER TWO

“THIS IS your wakeup call, Cam!”

Brothers—but especially older brothers—were things made by the Devil. Camilla Donati would fight anybody who tried to tell her differently. Her brother in particular was the very worst when it came to making her life a special kind of hell.

She still loved him.

He was one of her very best friends.

Soft thumps hit the wall as her brother came closer to the bedroom.

“Come on, Cam. Get up. Right now.”

“Fuck off,” Camilla grumbled from beneath the mound of blankets. “It’s Saturday morning, Cross. Go away.”

His voice came louder and clearer then. “Nope.”

“Oh, my God. He’s hot, but he’s so fucking annoying that it makes me want to kill him.”

“I did hear that,” Cross deadpanned.

Cool air hit Camilla’s skin a second before the blankets fell to the floor. Both Camilla, and her friend who had opted to sleep over instead of catching a cab home, glared up at Cross. August hadn’t lied—Cross was handsome, dark-eyed, black hair, and strong features. He didn’t lack in female attention, as far as that went.