Page 30 of Leave Me (Touch of Death 2)
“It doesn’t matter. Work through it, block it out, whatever works.” She moves closer. “I just need my cool-headed brother back.” She slaps me on the shoulder and moves past me. I stare at the cracked wall, the cream paint marked and stained with red patches.
It’s a very accurate visual representation for how I feel right now, cracked and tarnished.
8
Sasha
“So, he has to pick one woman?” I ask, frowning at the television screen.
“Yep,” Tommy says, scooping up salsa with a tortilla chip and shoving it into his mouth.
“That’s stupid.”
He shrugs. “It’s reality TV.”
Stupid. “But they came on the show, so they all want to be picked.”
“Yes…”
“They will simply act in ways to please him.”
Tommy sighs. “Yeah, that’s the whole point. You watch them act all fake, but you know they’re a bitch. Most of the time, the guy either picks the hot one or the nice one.”
“How can a woman who is willing to compete against other women for a man’s attention possibly be attractive?”
Tommy groans. “It’s reality TV, Sasha. It is what it is.”
“It’s stupid.”
A throat clears somewhere behind me, and my head jerks around to find Nero standing in the doorway. His arms are folded over his open suit jacket, and one brow is hiked up.
“You two done acting like eighteen-year-old girls?”
I scowl. “I am a thirty-year-old man.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Anyway, I’ve got some business in Queens. You’re both coming.”
“What kind of business?” I ask.
Nero’s eyes narrow, and he releases a long breath. “Mob business, Sasha.”
“I do not work for the mafia.” I turn my attention back to the screen.
“Well you do just this once,” he says, his tone on edge.
“Una has barred me from working.”
Nero tilts his head back on a groan. “See, I told you,” he says, directing his attention to someone out of sight beside the door.
A hand lands on his arm, tugging him out of the way before Una steps in front of his much-larger body. She folds her arms over her chest, and her foot tapping the floor tells me she’s angry before she even starts talking.
“You are going with Nero. It’s an easy job. You’re there to look tough and dissuade violence.” She cocks a brow.
“I am not a goon.” The entire notion is offensive.
“Sasha, you’re watching…whatever that is—”
“The Bachelor,” Tommy cuts her off.
“Think of it as easing back into work,” she continues, as though anything she says will make her pitiful offer appealing.
“I do not need to ease back into anything. I simply need to go on a job.”
“You’re not ready,” she argues.
“I can pull a trigger.”
She tilts her head. “It’s not the physical I’m worried about.” The implication hangs in the air, and I grind my teeth over each other. She thinks I’m weak, and that knowledge does not sit well.
Nero clears his throat. “Either way, you’re sulking, and at this point, it’s just sad.”
I glare at him, and he laughs.
“It’ll be good for you, Sasha,” Tommy chimes in, and I turn my glare on him. “Or not. Not going is good, too.”
I push to my feet because I am not sulking. “Brief me.”
Nero smirks. “It’s not that kind of job. You know how it is; there’s never any trouble, but I always have Gio and Jackson with me. Jackson is otherwise engaged. I have no reason to think tonight will be anything out of the ordinary.”
“Assumption will get a man killed,” I say.
Nero glances at Una with a roll of his head. “Great, let’s go.”
She smiles and kisses his cheek before he turns and walks away.
I follow him and Tommy to the waiting car, ignoring Una as I move past her. At the front of the house, a black SUV lingers on the white gravel driveway. I climb into the back seat, and Tommy gets in on the other side. Nero sits in the passenger seat next to Gio before the car pulls away. If it’s a strong front he’s looking for, I cannot fathom why he’d bring Tommy. Perhaps he could talk an assailant to death.
We wind through the mansion-encrusted hills of the Hamptons and make our way toward Manhattan. While I’m partly glad to leave the house, I loathe the notion of being a glorified bodyguard. That didn’t serve me well the last time. I’m a soldier, and this is beneath me. The idea of easing myself back into anything is offensive.
We end up in Queens, in an area that looks like a breeding ground for criminal activity. Shops line the streets, metal shutters covering their windows and sprayed with graffiti. Groups of youths linger on street corners with their hoods pulled up. Gio finally turns off the main street and slows in front of what looks like a bar. The red neon sign at the front reads Juju’s. Gio parks right outside and cuts the engine before everyone gets out. I’m on edge because Nero hasn’t briefed me on what to expect. I never go into any situation unprepared. I haven’t been out of the house in weeks, and the rush of sensations are like a flood.
