Page 113 of The Retaliation You Deliver

“We’re ready.” I push the door open wider so he can see Leon tugging on his sneakers. “See.”

“You coming too?”

“Yeah. I-if that’s okay?” I stutter, suddenly realizing that anyone other than Leon might not actually want me there.

He looks from me to Lee and back again. Whatever he sees on his brother’s face softens his expression and he nods.

“Of course. It looks like you’re one of us now.”

My chin drops, not quite expecting to be accepted so easily.

“Don’t look so shocked. Not all the rumors are true,” he jokes.

“I-I haven’t heard any—”

“He’s winding you up, Red. Just ignore him. If you can deal with my rep, then his is nothing.”

“Knowing how bad yours is, Dunn, that doesn’t reassure me.”

“Oh ouch,” Luca says with a laugh. “I think you’re going to fit right in here,Red.”

A growl rumbles from behind me, seconds before arms wrap around my waist.

“Do you mind not flirting with my girl? You’ve got one of your own to torment.”

“I’m just being friendly. Jesus. Possessive much.”

Leon scoffs at his comment but I don’t ask. The last thing I want is to get in the middle of the brothers’ pissing match.

We find Peyton waiting for us in the kitchen before the four of us jump into Luca’s car and head across town.

The conversation is light but the reality of what the rest of our day holds forces me to blurt it out.

“My uncle is in the hospital. I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

Leon’s hand tenses in mine. It’s almost as if my words are a reminder, but I know him better than that now. There’s no way he’s forgotten my middle of the night phone call and what it means for him—for us.

“I… um…” Peyton stutters clearly not really knowing how to approach that news.

Luca on the other hand makes his feelings known immediately. “Good. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person,” he deadpans. “I hope it hurt like hell.”

Leon chuckles beside me.

“We’re heading out there after breakfast.”

Luca glances back at his brother in the rearview mirror, concern evident in his eyes.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” he asks, clearly remembering what happened the last time we were in Miami.

“Yeah. Macie needs to be there, which means I’ll be there.” Warmth spreads through my chest at his words. “We’re not staying at the house,” he states.

“We’re not?”

“Nope. I’ve booked us a place to stay,” he confesses.

“When did you do that?”

“While you were in the shower?”