Chapter One
“Well look at who slipped in while I was counting the register,” a woman in her late fifties called out as soon as she spotted Connor Sutton in the corner booth of her family-style pizza restaurant in Queens, New York. She made her way to him through the otherwise empty restaurant, whistling as she did. “You look more important every time I see you.”
Connor loosened his tie and stood to greet her. “And you, Ada, just keep getting more beautiful.” He held out his arms for a hug that she walked into.
“Don’t let my husband hear you talk like that.” She was blushing when she stepped back.
“He can have you,” her husband, Joel, called out from behind the counter. “Connor, tell her just because the doctor told me to eat better doesn’t mean I have to cut everything with any taste out of my diet.”
Connor walked over and shook Joel’s hand. “I’d listen to Ada. She’s only trying to keep your sorry ass alive.”
Joel nodded toward his wife and sighed. “Figures he’d take your side.”
Ada gave her husband’s back a flick with a rolled towel. “Because I’m right.”
He spun her around, dipped her over his arm, and said, “What did you say? Can’t hear you.”
She clung to his shoulders, laughing. “I said I hope my next husband has the sense to listen to his doctor.”
“Your next husband?” Joel growled something into her ear that had her laughing and swatting him after he righted her.
The scene warmed Connor’s heart. His mother had died when he was a child and had been sick before that for as long as he could remember. Had his parents ever been as lighthearted and happy? He liked to believe so, although that was a time no one in his family spoke of.
Behind Connor, the door of the restaurant chimed, announcing the arrival of another patron. All amusement left Joel’s face. Ada gripped his arm. Connor tensed at the heavy silence and spun on his heel, prepared to face down a gang leader or early afternoon drunk.
He instantly relaxed as he recognized the friend he’d ask to meet him for lunch. “You made it.”
“You know him?” Joel asked in a strained voice.
Connor nodded. “Absolutely. Bradford get on in here and meet two of my favorite New York friends. Joel and Ada Fetter, this is my good friend, Bradford . . .” It was only then he realized he didn’t know his last name.
Bradford removed his mirrored glasses and placed them into the breast pocket of his dark suit. He didn’t smile as he joined them.
Beside him, Joel appeared small and intimidated. Connor flexed his shoulders. He didn’t like to see either of his friends uncomfortable. Bradford was what Claire would call socially challenged. People should be able to look past his scars and tattoos, and they would if he stepped out of his “I’m a hitman” persona long enough for them to get to know him.
To lighten the mood, Connor gave him a hearty welcoming punch to the arm.
Bradford didn’t so much as flinch, but he did give Connor a warning look.
Joel’s arm tightened around his wife and they took a step back.
Their nervousness only encouraged Connor. He held open his arms toward his glaring friend. “Don’t make me hug you.”
“I would drop you to the fucking floor,” Bradford said in a tight voice.
Connor chuckled. He’d only hung out with Bradford a few times over the past year, but the man had a dry humor that really cracked Connor up. “You could try, or you could smile and show my friends that you’re really a good guy who is here because you care about me.”
Bradford looked from Connor to Joel and Ada and back. He flashed a smile that wasn’t reflected in either his eyes or his tone as he said, “I flew in from Bulgaria because you said there was a situation you couldn’t handle on your own.”
“Bulgaria?” Connor waved a hand in Bradford’s direction. “Do you see why I love this guy? Bulgaria. I don’t even know where that is, but I said I needed him and he flew all the way back from there. That’s a good friend.”
“That is a long way,” Ada agreed in a forced friendly voice. “You must be hungry, Bradford. Why don’t you have a seat and we’ll bring out some . . .”
“Pizza. Plain,” Connor suggested with enthusiasm. “It’s kosher. That means—”
“I know what kosher means,” Bradford said.
Of course he would. Bradford was well-traveled. Connor had needed Joel to explain it to him. “Well, then you know how challenging creating an authentic New York kosher pizza can be. People take food very seriously in this area. Ada makes her own mozzarella.”
“Everything here is produced from scratch,” Joel added with pride.
“Sounds delicious,” Bradford said. This time his smile held a bit more sincerity.
“It really is,” Connor said. He took a seat once again in the corner booth. “Ada, two draft beers. Your choice.”
“You got it,” Ada said. She delivered them in chilled mugs almost as soon as Bradford sat down.
Connor took a good swig of his.
Bradford did as well. After lowering his mug, he demanded, “What do you need?”
Asking for help wasn’t something Connor was accustomed to, but ever since his younger sister, Viviana, had married a billionaire, he hardly recognized his life. In the small town of Cairo, Upstate New York, his family had been kind of a big thing. Confident. Well-liked. Not so much in the circles the Barringtons ran in. Especially not in the beginning. His plaid shirts and jeans hadn’t been good enough and almost all of his humor had been lost on them.
After a year of working with Claire Wendell, accountability and life coach, he and his brother Dylan understood that they laughed too loud, drank too much, and often didn’t pick up on social cues. She was too kind to ever say it that bluntly, but Clay Landon had been brutally honest about why Viviana was constantly apologizing for Dylan and him.
They needed to change or they’d always be the butt of everyone’s jokes.
It was tough love not everyone could have handled, but both Connor and Dylan had been grateful for it. The last thing either of them wanted was to diminish any of the happiness their sister had found with Grant Barrington, especially since they’d started a family together. Little Sean would be raised very differently than the Suttons had been, but Connor wanted to be part of every bit of his journey.
Clay’s blunt assessment of what would make that difficult had been a wake-up call, but it had been accompanied by an introduction to a film producer who had changed Connor’s and Dylan’s lives once again. Danger Doubled, a romantic comedy about two brothers who had fallen in love with the same woman, had made them household names.
They were now both featured in articles as big-screen heartthrobs. Dylan as a badass. Connor as a genius doctor.
Neither could be further from the truth. Over the years they’d indulged in a fair share of bar fights, but Dylan had never thrown the first punch. He didn’t like confrontation.
Unfortunately, confrontation liked him.
And Connor? Reading was a new pastime to him. He could recite complicated medical terms like a parrot, but understood very few of them. Claire had done a thorough job of creating a version of him that the public loved. Too good.