Page 147 of Fallen Rook

I missed him.

I missed him so much, and only three days had passed since our showdown at his office.

If I needed any more reasons to suspect I was a complete idiot (and after the last eleven weeks, I had no doubt at all), it was the fact I still worried about him.

Was his grandmother doing okay? She was old.

Did he smile? Did anyone check on him? Brighten his day? Was he seeing his therapist?

Did he take care of himself? Work out? He was forty. His bone density was probably trash.

He was no longer my business, but that didn’t mean I didn’t care anymore. It just meant I had one more thing to worry about. And already, I was tormented by my brothers, who gave me the silent treatment.

Achilles: Going down to DE to liquidate some shit.

Me: I’ll be in Philly doing the same thing.

Luca: Enzo, get the trucks ready to move north.

Me:

Luca: Heading to Chicago in an hour to talk to FIL.

Achilles: Are you taking the whore with you? Because that might hurt your chances of getting help from him.

Luca: Shut the fuck up, Achilles. You know she was a prop.

Achilles: You spelled KARMA IS A BITCH AND I’M SUFFERING HER WRATH wrong, stronzo.

Luca was going to bend the knee and kiss the ring of Alonso Bandini, Sofia’s stepfather, in a bid to get rid of the bulk of our unsold drug shipment. He wanted to sell it to him, and ask for a loan to cover payroll, legal fees, and more expenses we needed to take care of while our hands were tied.

Tiernan was working the Bratva angle as much as he could, and Tristan was trying to find someone to flip in the FBI, but for the most part, we were underwater, and we knew it.

We were in big, big trouble.

The Bratva knew that and were ready to strike.

It was only on the third day of total chaos that I finally managed to drag myself back to my apartment and collapse face-first onto the couch. My eyes were impossibly heavy, and I dozed into sleep immediately. I didn’t even have time to slather myself in psoriasis cream, even though, needless to say, I was flaking like it was my sole purpose in life.

When I woke up, the sun hung low in the sky, seemingly melting into rooftops, and I heard a knock on my door.

“Ugh,” I groaned into a throw pillow, realizing it was wet with drool. I forced myself to flip on my back, throwing an arm over my face. “Go away.”

There was another set of cheerful knocks.

“I said, fuck off.” I yawned, curling my fists. “Please.”

I prided myself on being polite even when my entire life was up in flames.

To my shock and horror, I heard the mechanical lock of my door turning. I sat up straight and grabbed my gun from the coffee table, cocking it.

Tierney and Lila burst through the door. Tierney was holding a straw picnic basket, and Lila had her index finger hooked around a hanger with dry-cleaned clothes for me.

“Our hero!” Tierney cried out, putting the basket down and throwing her arms around me. Lila followed suit. They covered me with hugs and kisses. I made annoyed sounds, but I didn’t push them away. Actually, I really did need those hugs. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” I grunted.

“Good. I’m going to make coffee while Lila gives you shit.” Tierney kissed the top of my head. “Have fun.”