Page 25 of Silver Fox Grump

Raspberries and cream.

“I’d like a quick word with you, Maisie,” Wes says as we wrap up. I watch out of the corner of my eye.

“I can’t right now, Dad, sorry,” she replies with a sunny smile, and neatly packs up her tablet. She’s a bit flustered. Could be because she came on my face not that long ago, but my instincts say it’s something else.

Wes scowls and I feel simultaneously sorry for him, and relieved because I’m not ready for my best friend to ask his innocent daughter difficult questions about teaching or surveillance.

Wes follows Maisie out of the room, and I stand, helpless to do anything but follow. Even though he is her father, my protective instinct with Maisie is irrepressible.

“Sit down,” Rafe orders in his, “I’m the eldest” voice.

“Haven’t you got jobs and families to go to?” I snap, ignoring him. They have both. Wives they are having children with, and successful mafias.

“Thankfully for you, we also have family responsibilities of a fraternal kind,” Vito says, pushing me back into my chair.

“Is that a type of Italian mushroom?” I glare up at him.

“No, it’s the kindness to tell you to stop eating hallucinogenic mushrooms that make you think messing around with Wes Matthew’s daughter is a good idea.” Rafe rolls his eyes. “Have you regressed to having the survival instincts of mould?”

Oh. Shit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She’s the girl from the CCTV you watch like it’s injectable and addictive,” Vito says.

I guess she is, yes.

“You’re deluded.” But it’s a futile attempt.

“Does she know about the cameras?” Rafe asks.

I pause.

“Do not lie to me,” Rafe growls. “I will make Camden pulling out your toenails seem merciful.”

“No.” Although, as I say it, I wonder, just a bit. Why did she say surveillance? Why was that in her mind? Yes, Morden uses a lot of surveillance and cameras in our work, but still. It’s slightly odd.

“But something is happening with you two.” Vito lounges against the wall like the Italian he is. He might look identical to Rafe and me but he’s always in a sunbeam or striking an elegant pose.

“It’s complicated,” I mutter.

“We’re your brothers,” Vito says. “And I’m not putting a spy on you this time. You’re going to just tell us without me having to use pliers.”

I massage my forehead and consider my options. “If I tell you, will you go away?”

“You’re fucking her.” Rafe frowns.

“No. I love her.” The confession is out before I can stop it, and somehow, it’s a relief.

“I called it.” Vito grins like a smug bastard, and holds out his hand to Rafe, who is shaking his head.

I glare at my brothers. Technically, they are both very slightly older than me, by seconds, but you wouldn’t know it. I have more grey in my hair, more scars, and since they’ve been married, they’re both like stupid teenagers.

“You just cost me a lot of money,” Rafe grumbles to me.

I wait for the onslaught of shit about what a morally repugnant person I am, but they seem more preoccupied with settling their bet.

“Would it be suicide or murder if I told Mitcham what his friend has been doing?” Rafe says, almost to himself.