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“You recognized him?” He’d been feeling eyes on him for a couple of weeks now. He’d attributed it to his PTSD acting up again and didn’t give it another thought. But now he wondered if itwasn’tjust his imagination and if there was a connection.
“Nope. He had a hoodie on. Damn kids.”
Since he wasn’t going to find a tow truck this time of night, he called Achilles. He’d forgotten about the redhead until she appeared at his side again.
“Gonna take me home, hotshot?”
“Not tonight. Little busy over here.” He pulled away when she went for his zipper again. “Brent. Why don’t you take…”
“Heidi,” she said.
“Right. Heidi over here back inside. Drinks on me.”
She left him with a pout, an arm around Brent.
It didn’t take long for Achilles to arrive. He somewhat begrudgingly got into his friend’s car. He hated cars, no matter how spacious the interior was. Closed spaces were not his thing.
“I can’t believe some prick slashed my tires, while I was only standing a few feet away.”
“Happens to the best of us, man.”
“Yeah? When was the last time it happened to you?” So, he was a bit sensitive concerning his bike. It was a vintage model and he’d bought it from his first prize money. He had literally bled for his wheels.
“Last week,” Achilles retorted. “Right at the back of the club, just like with you.”
“Tough neighborhood, I guess.”
“I guess. Though, I’m beginning to wonder now if it isn’t something more.” He dropped the subject and went straight to a topic Hector wanted to talk about even less. “So, about tonight.Youwent to help Mary, huh?”
“Your point?”
“Just that you could’ve sent someone else. One of the guys who were on call.”
Nosy bastard. This was exactly the reason why he had opted to drive over to Mary’s by himself and had asked Achilles to meet him there. If you didn’t share a car, you couldn’t be grilled.
When he didn’t answer, Achilles smiled. “I’m glad you’re finally making a move.”
“There’s no move.”
“It was about time,” Achilles simply continued. “You two have been mooning over each other forever.”
“There’s no mooning. I don’t fucking moon.”
“Sure, sure.”
“Let it go, man. She’s not for me. I don’t want her.” When Achilles gave him a look, he shrugged. “Fine, I want her. But only for one night.” Surely his obsession with her would pass after that. “She isn’t the ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’ kind of girl. Not to mention the fact that Jazzy would have my balls if I hurt her cousin. Mary’s the type that wants hearts and flowers and shit. The kind of guy she can bring home to her mother. I ain’t that man.”
“Her mother is an alcoholic living in France with her third husband.”
Hector hadn’t known that. He tried to steer clear of all and any information regarding Mary Rossi. “Doesn’t matter. And how the hell did you know that? You’ve been checking up on her?”
“Stop the growling. I came across an old file on her. There was one on every Rossi girl. Gio must have compiled them when he married Jazzy. Your friend doesn’t do anything half-assed.”
Hector had almost forgotten about those files. He hadn’t been there when Gio had to pick a bride out of the three Rossi granddaughters. His choice had fallen on the most brazen of the girls: Jocelyn. But then his bride-to-be had literally fled the country to get away from him. Hector had been the one who had dragged her back, kicking and screaming. His friend was ruthless when it came to what he wanted. In the end, it had worked out for Gio, though.
Hector had to admit he wasn’t that much different from Gio. Meeting the Dettas had made him realize that blood didn’t make family. Blood didn’t mean shit when it came to loyalty or love.
It was the Dettas’ grandmother who had taught him that. She had even tried to teach him a value or two. One of them was to always protect the ones weaker than you. Not hurt them. Him making a ploy for Mary Rossi would definitely hurt her. Because if he ever got her in his bed, he wouldn’t be able to let her go.