Page 1 of Forgotten Comeback (Parisi Family #5)
Gavin
“Oh, yes, Gavin!” A woman screams as my fingers bruise into her hips.
“That’s it, Bree.” My balls slap her ass with each thrust.
“Brin.” She cranes her neck, her eyes narrowed to slits.
“Isn’t that what I said? Damn, beautiful, this pussy’s so good, I can’t remember my own name.”
That pacifies her, along with me reaching around and strumming her clit like an acoustic guitar. Her pussy seizes around my dick as she comes.
I thrust faster and faster, wanting to feel something, but all I get is a less than satisfying orgasm.
Self-loathing seeps into my bloodstream as I pull my soft dick out of her cunt. I silently hop out of bed and move to the bathroom, avoiding post-coital cuddling like the plague. The condom gets a toss before I wash up, refusing to look at myself in the mirror.
Even I’m getting sick of my bullshit.
A playful grin secured firmly in place, I saunter to the bedroom. “That was fun, Brit, but I need to go.” Ignoring the daggers she’s shooting in my direction, I pull on my boxers and step into my jeans. Grabbing my shirt and shoes, I don’t bother fully dressing as I hustle for the door.
“My name’s Brin, asshole!” The woman shrieks, flinging a pillow in my direction.
Phew. That was a close one.
I slide behind the wheel of my car, grabbing my buzzing phone from my pocket.
Where the fuck are you? I’m outside your place.
My thumbs fly over my phone with annoyance.
I’m busy.
Roll off her and get your ass here now. Family business.
On my way.
Arriving at my place, I park next to an old town car with blacked-out windows and slide into the front seat. “Where are we going?” I ask my brother, who mashes the accelerator.
“Newark. Finally figured out which business is Romeo’s. He’s got it hidden behind a shell company.”
“What’s the business?” I wonder.
“Coffee shop.”
“Coffee shop?” I snort. “Not very gangster.”
John lifts a shoulder. “It’s actually a smart play. A mob underboss hiding where no one would think to look.” He cranes his neck before turning on the blinker and changing lanes. “So I got word from Russell; your coach isn’t happy—”
“Don’t start with me,” I warn. “Where’s Inferno?”
“He’s busy.”
“Why aren’t you on his ass?” I grumble.
John locks eyes with me. “He doesn’t give me a reason to be.”
“Gold star for him,” I mutter.
Thankfully, John drops the subject, and we ride for a good clip in silence. I glance over to my big brother, the wheels in his mind spinning; always planning the next move. Been that way ever since we were kids. A good fucking thing, or we’d all be six feet under.
John idles the vehicle at the opposite end of the street from Corner Caffè.
“Now what?” I ask.
“And now we wait.”
Fine by me.
My eyes drift closed as I start to nod off, only to be jostled by a punch to the arm. “What the fuck?”
“Don’t fall asleep. We’ll only have a short window, and I need you to be ready.” John hands me a gun, and with a yawn, I pull back the safety. “What’s her name?” he asks, peering through binoculars.
“Who?”
John gives me a side eye. “You tell me; you’re the one who smells like pussy.”
“Fuck you.” And I’m still not exactly sure what her name is.
A blacked-out car rolls past us, snagging both of our attention.
It idles in front of the coffee shop as shots ring out, but from my angle, I can’t see what’s happening.
“Motherfucker,” John grits, still peering through the binoculars. “Somebody’s beat us to the punch.”
John tosses the binoculars as he slams on the gas, driving us in the opposite direction of the melee.
“Who?” It’s my turn to ask.
“No clue.” John smacks the steering wheel with a frustrated curse. “I would say the enemy of our enemy is our friend, but that ‘friend’ just stole vengeance that was ours.”
“We could take credit,” I throw out there.
John shakes his head. “Too risky. Romeo went down, but we don’t know if he’s dead. Taking credit for a botched hit would do nothing but give away our element of surprise.”
“Then what do we do?” I ask.
John pauses for a beat. “We wait and see how this shakes out.”