Extradition (Mobsters + Billionaires, #1)

by Kelly Fox

Sherry fixes me with another raised brow. “What is the one thing you’ve told everybody since the beginning?” “Evolve or die.” “That’s right. It’s time to take your own medicine.”

Most families have a scorched earth, kill-every-relative policy when it comes to those things, but my father always reasoned that adult caskets only send a one-time message, whereas a single child-size casket will keep two to three generations of soldiers in line. He’s never killed extravagantly, only with breathtaking brutality.

“No. It’s just my uncle informing me that my father invoked extradition.” “I don’t know what that means.” “Means that any family in Manhattan who can put hands on me and return me in one piece gets a reward.” “Family as in…?” “Mafia.”

“Well, then, that’s why. I’m not an asshole.” “I’d contest that, but you did save my life today. Didn’t you?” “Yes.” “At great personal cost.” A statement. Not a question. “It appears that way, yes.” “And I’m guessing it’s my fault.” I raise my brows, impressed that he found his way to some semblance of personal responsibility.

I’m starting to understand that the instant messages and keeping to our neutral corners were about preventing me from having a peek at his soft underbelly. But I see it anyway, clear as day. It’s in the sadness around his eyes when his father dresses him down in front of the rest of us, in the restrained excitement over a simple bowl of pasta, and in the private way he smiles when he thinks no one is looking.

Winner winner, chicken dinner. Wolfe definitely wants to see my penis.

“Wait, did you just save my life again?” I joke, hoping to diffuse the energy crackling across my skin. Joe doesn’t laugh. “Nah. He wasn’t going after you. Which is good for him.” “Why good for him?” Looking at me intently, letting me see the murder glint behind his eyes, he responds, “If he were going after you, I’d a killed him with my bare hands. And I wouldn’t a bothered with the niceties.”

I shiver again when I think about the way I held him. I meant for it to be a grounding hug, but Rand was like a starving man, dying from lack of touch. Every protective instinct came rushing forward, and I let it go on for far too long. Neither of us wanted to stop. If I’d invited him into my bed, even just to hold him, he would have fallen on the chance.

“Because I need it, Rand. You said you’d do anything. I…I need you to let me make you feel good.” “But it’s my fault that you—” He nods. “It is your fault. And I don’t know why, but this blush on your face feels like penance. Makes me want to forgive all your sins.”

“During the length of this conversation, my money will have made enough money to pay for the cost of living in this penthouse. For an entire year.” I open my mouth to protest, but he puts up a hand. “You are the one thing I cannot buy, Joe. And because I know you will never take advantage of my wealth, it makes me want to be generous with it. So please, shush, and let me do nice things for you.” It’s my turn to blush, but I try for a stern expression anyway. “Okay, but…don’t overdo it. And for some reason, you talking about how much money your money makes over the course of a sentence makes me want to put you on your knees.”

“You do have use for me though, right?” Joe asks, grinning as he takes my hand. I thread my fingers through his, loving the way this small gesture makes my heart speed up. “You, Joe, are my most valuable asset. I could lose every penny, but if I still had you, I’d be the richest man in the world.”