“Don’t feel bad,” Mag says, glancing over at me. “I can tell it’s been eating you up lately, but don’t let it. You’re doing what needs to be done. I’ve been on the outside for most of this, and I’ve never once thought you had ill intentions. Never. That’s not you. Johnny didn’t give you a choice in the beginning. He never does. He’s dickheaded and stubborn. He’s done shitty things to you.” He licks his lips. “But then I saw the gradual change in how you acted around him, starting with the shootout. I think it scared you that you might lose all of them, so you just let yourself feel what you wanted to instead of holding back. To me, that takes a lot of bravery.” He puts down the knife and brushes his fingers across my cheekbones. “My gut feeling tells me...” He blows out a breath. “My gut feeling tells me Johnny belongs with us, but I don’t know if years of indoctrination will win out.”
I close my hand over his, pressing his palm into my cheek. “You care for him too.”
“Like a brother. I always have. When you initiate in with someone, you’re tied for life. No matter if that guy is now the leader’s son or someone who defected or...” He peeks out the kitchen at Brawler and lowers his voice. “...someone who didn’t make it.”
I bite down on my lip. “Brawler has a lot of mixed feelings about his brother. He blames him for his sister’s death.”
Magnum squeezes my hand, then lets go and reaches for the knife to start cutting the potatoes again. “I know he does. I’m not sure there’s anything I can say that would make him think otherwise.”
“Do you blame Manning for his sister’s death?”
Magnum gives a quick shake of his head. “I blame the Crew.”
Magnum and I finish up, then place the scalloped potatoes and ham in the oven, which still looks brand new. I don’t know if that’s because it’s cleaned a lot or if it’s from lack of use. I’m not that much of a cook. In fact, I don’t particularly like it even though I love home-cooked meals. However, maybe cooking is something I could use to try to bring us all together.
What Mag said about Johnny is probably true for all of them. How many times did they have home-cooked meals when they were kids? Did they sit around a table telling stories about their day? Did they laugh and joke?
I only have those memories from when I was a kid. I cherish them, hold them inside because that’s the last time I’ve ever felt truly at home. Hopefully, I can make a new home now.
I’m sitting on the arm of the couch, being drawn into the comedian Brawler and Oscar are watching after setting the table when the door to my place opens. I peek over my shoulder and find Johnny walking in. He’s not alone. Jiko Cardinale follows him. Both of them wear dapper looking suits while the rest of us are still in training gear. Well, aside from Mag who’s wearing his usual black tactical outfit.
“Hey,” I say, popping up from the couch to greet Johnny.
He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Jiko’s in town to help me get Candy’s settled. Since you said you were making dinner, I invited him.”
“If there’s enough,” Jiko interjects.
“Yeah, there’s enough,” I tell him. I hold out my hand, but Jiko bypasses it. He steps forward, grips my upper arms, and kisses both of my cheeks.
Stunned, I just kind of stand there while Jiko laughs. “That’s how we greet each other in Chicago. It’s an Italian thing.”
I clear my throat. “I’m afraid I didn’t make an Italian dish, so I hope that doesn’t matter.” Uneasiness crawls over me. I don’t know why I don’t like this guy. Whether it’s just the usual being wary of someone or if there’s something behind it, I don’t know. “I’m making scalloped potatoes and ham.”
Jiko cocks his head. “Never heard of it, but I’m willing to try anything.”
Johnny glances around me and is greeted by a round of masculine voices. Apprehension pricks at my skin, but Johnny nods at the rest of them. So, that must mean he’s cool about having them over, right? I mean, he’s not beating Oscar up for being in my apartment, so that has to be a good sign.
If you think about it, Brawler and Oscar have every reason not to like Johnny. So, if they’re willing to try for me, shouldn’t Johnny do the same?
I fucking hope so.
“How did training go today?” Johnny asks, pulling up my injured hand.
I shrug as he works his fingers over my skin. “Not too bad,” I confirm. “I’d say I went fifty percent on the bags, and no issues thus far.”
Shadows crawl over his skin. “Except for Detective Reynolds following you.”
“Yeah, there was that,” I admit.
Johnny runs his fingertips down my arm while he looks at Mag.
“He didn’t come back around again,” Mag informs him.
“Make sure you’re doing bug sweeps from now on and be careful what you talk about in there.”
Mag nods. He’s been doing all of his bug sweeps in front of me now. He checked the apartment when we got here, and every time we see one of the guys, he checks their phones like someone may have slipped something inside in the middle of the night. Honestly, it could be coming from two sides. Or more. Detective Reynolds, who wants to see me go down for a murder I didn’t commit, and Gregory’s people, or the Dragons, or K. Literally, everyone.
“You should rub some Arnica gel on that,” Jiko says, motioning toward my hand. I raise my eyebrow at him. I actually have it down on my grocery list of things I need, but that’s usually a fighter/martial artist remedy. He smirks. “What? Didn’t pin me as a fighter?”
“Not exactly,” I say.
He shrugs, brushing off my slight. “I hear you have a big fight coming up.”
I don’t know what Johnny’s said to him, so I just nod. “Yep, Brawler and I are going at it, and I think I just might kick his ass.”
Without looking away from the TV, Brawler raises his middle finger in the air. It’s so unlike him that it makes me laugh. Not that he wouldn’t throw someone the bird, but me? That seems like something Oscar would do. Who, by the way, thinks Brawler’s fuck you to me is extremely funny considering he’s doubled over on the couch.
Johnny snickers beside me. He gazes at the scene, and I would give anything to see it from his point of view. What does he think in that devilishly handsome head of his? Is he wishing I hadn’t done this? Is he timid, like stepping into the ocean for the first time with the waves crashing over one another mere feet away?
Me? Having them there, like this? It only solidifies that I’m doing the right thing.
“We still have twenty minutes until dinner,” I tell them, grabbing Johnny’s hand and pulling him closer to the living room. “Let’s hang out.”
“Looks like we’re going to need to get another couch,” Johnny says, voice low. His tone is indecipherable.
I squeeze his hand though, and he squeezes back. “There’s that chair in the bedroom I can bring out,” I offer.
“I’ll get it,” Johnny says, kissing my temple.
He strides toward the bedroom, and I waver about going after him. I’m about to take a step his way when Jiko Cardinale’s voice stops me. “He’s got it bad for you, girl.”