Page 30 of Finding Denver

“Their other guests canceled,” she says through the corner of her mouth. “They’re not fucking, though.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s my job to read people. They’ve got a father–son vibe.” She grabs the arm of a passing waiter. “Take table twelve. I’m done.”

He scowls at her. “Sandy, it isn’t even nine o’clock.”

“Fuck you, Greg. I already agreed it with Darlene. Scram!” She snaps her teeth at him, and he zips away. Ireallylike Sandy. She returns her attention to me. “Two minutes, Red.”

“For what?”

She’s already gone, the door to the kitchen swinging behind her.

Colt and Finn talk easily, their shoulders relaxed, smiling or laughing occasionally. I wonder what they’re talking about. Work? Life? Something else? Ranger always told me that rivalries run deep, and making alliances withother families is sometimes necessary, but we’ve never done it. Even the Merricks, who were close to my dad until he died, were shut out once Ranger took over. I can’t remember the last time we had a meal with someone outside of our circle or who wasn’t already submitting to us in some way.

The McEwans and Harlands operate in similar business. McEwans are big into drugs and guns, and the Harlands are guns and money. A slight overlap, nothing too surprising, but they own dozens of restaurants, bars, and clubs across the city. That’s direct competition, and it should lead to some animosity.

But they’re laughing and joking like old friends.

Sandy slumps into the seat beside me, the chair almost tipping over from the enthusiasm of it. She’s in dark jeans, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket, and she’s let her black hair down. She’s texting rapidly. “So, what’s your name?”

“Denver.” I eye the jacket. “Is that Prada?”

“Yep.” She puts her phone down. “Dean is gonna be pissed I canceled, but I’m not missing out on this. If you need me to hit someone, I will.”

I fully believe that.

“I don’t think it’ll come to that,” I say, my gaze landing once more on the booth. “Who’s Dean?”

“Boyfriend. Kinda. Almost,” she says. “I might break up with him. He’s a little … intense. And mafia.”

I nod. “Wait, what?” My attention snaps to her.

“Are you drinking that?” She points to my water, and I shake my head. She picks it up and takes a mouthful, crunching the ice. “He’s not important mafia. He does all the other stuff. Cleaning up mess. Y’know.”

I do.

“Which family?”

“Capellis.” She says it with such ease. “You know ’em?”

I shake my head. I know of them. Everyone does. Vincenzo Capelli is the oldest don in the city, and his grandson is a total prick. He tried to arrange a meeting with Ranger once, and it was the first time I’d seen Ranger laugh without me making it happen. He said he’d never associate with that Capelli, and at the time I thought it was because Ranger doesn’t like associating with anyone, but my research into Colt and the New York families proved that Vince Capelli Jr. is just an amateur.

I watch Colt and Finn again.

Sandy huffs as she reads a text. “He’s pestering me to leave.”

“Why?” I ask, leaning in my chair to watch Colt. His shirt sleeves are rolled down, and I want to catch a glimpse of the tattoos I’ve heard so much about. People knew him by the ink on his skin, but not his face, and I’m curious to see what the big deal is.

“I dunno. He didn’t even want me to work tonight,” Sandy continues. “Turned up before my shift and tried to get me to leave. He only let me come in because I promised to be gone by nine.”

I’m half listening. “He sounds controlling.”

“Yeah, but he buys me things,” she says, sighing contentedly.

“Your jacket?”

She grins. “Nope, that was another boyfriend.”