My half sister’s husband is a giant of a guy with long hair he usually pulls back into a man bun, and he’s covered with ink—some of which he did himself as he learned to be a tattoo artist. Now he’s got one hell of a client list down in NOLA at a place called Voodoo Ink.
“She’ll be here,” Greer says. “We’ve kept in touch since Rose’s baptism that Holly and Creighton had in Nashville.”
A baptism I crashed, unwelcome, and begged for five minutes to speak with Creighton. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but I’d gotten word of a competitor who was going to fuck him over.
Could I have sent an email? Sure.
Could I have sent a text or called? Absolutely.
Instead, I found myself flying to Tennessee anyway, busting into a family celebration that I should have been invited to—not as his second in command who he’d fired, but as the brother he didn’t know he had.
Our conversation was short. He was pissed I dared interrupt a day for family, and rightly so. His next words filleted me like a fish.
“If you ever interrupt me at a family function again, even if it’s to tell me you’re dying, I’ll have you railroaded out of the fucking country. You’re already dead to me, Cannon. That’s what happens to traitors.”
I walked away without telling him I was sorry. It’s the only thing I’ve wanted to tell him since, but my pride has kept me silent.
A delicate touch curls around my clenched fist at my side, and I loosen it so Memphis can thread her fingers through mine. I look down into her faux brown eyes, and although they’re supportive, I wish I could see the aqua, but I smile. It starts out forced and then becomes genuine in a split second.
“Thank you,” I tell her, not needing to explain why I’m so grateful. She gets it. Gets me.
And then Dom’s voice drowns out everyone else’s.
“My baby girl is back!”
20
Memphis
Icould skewer Dominic Casso where he stands. In front of all his friends and family. I wouldn’t care at all that I’d be hauled off to jail immediately or, more likely, shot dead on the spot. Because with every excited outburst from the old man about his children, Cannon stiffens beside me like he’s being stabbed.
What a motherfucking asshole of a father.Apparently, he missed the memo that you’re supposed to treat your kids equally.
All four of us in our little group go silent as Cannon and his half brother Cav watch the father who apparently never gave much of a shit about them wrap a petite woman in a hug and lift her off the floor with the strength of a man half his age.
“Fucking dick,” Greer whispers under her breath just loud enough for me to hear.
I make eye contact with her and nod in solidarity. I like her. I don’t need to know another thing about her to know that she and I will get along fine.
Her brother is the golden boy in Dom’s eyes, and her husband is an afterthought.
How fucking unfair?
But I doubt there’s much use in trying to change a mobster’s ways when he’s just joined the septuagenarian club. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still try, and I have a feeling she would do the same.
“Anyone else hoping the car delivery gets delayed, and he doesn’t get a shiny new toy tonight?” The words are out of my mouth before I remind myself to shut the hell up.
Thankfully, Cannon squeezes my hand before looping his arm around me. He and Cavanaugh Westman both laugh, and Greer giggles.
“That can definitely be arranged. I know all of Banner’s dirty secrets, and I’m not above blackmail.” Greer winks at me, and I reaffirm my opinion—I definitely like her.
Cannon says again, “It’s so damn good to see you, Greer. New York has missed you.”
She reaches out to shove Cannon’s shoulder in a very sibling-like gesture. “You mean you’ve missed me and you’re just too proud to say it.”
“Not too proud at all. I’ve missed you like hell. Nothing’s been the same since ...” Cannon trails off because the elephant in the room stops right beside us.
“Greer. Cav. I was hoping you were already here. Come see Holly. She’s missed you and was worried you wouldn’t make it.”