“One I think is willing to talk about the Smithenson family and the murder,” Luca added after a moment.
That had Naz raising a brow. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Or at least, the contact I spoke to said he seemed open and willing to do it. Guess the guy was on to something. He apparently had a story ready to print and everything before it ended up pulled for whatever reason.”
Luca would really like to know that reason.
“The Smithenson family probably didn’t like what he wrote. It’s not like it would be the first time a political family had an arm of control in the media. Shit, that’s half the fucking job there, right?”
“What are you two talking about?”
The question from Luca’s sister who sat on the otherside of Naz at the table had the two men growing quiet. His friend had been clear—Roz couldn’t know anything. Not about Luca’s job, the things he had found, or the shit he might find in the future. Not until they could get her solid answers and a connection to Penny.
She felt bad enough.
Why add to it?
“Nothing, babe,” Naz said, leaning into his wife to kiss her on the top of her head.
It was that moment that one of Luca’s favorite people decided to make his little presence known at the table. His godson, Cross, named after his grandfather with the attitude to match his namesake. The five-year-old picked up a slice of French toast from his plate where he sat next to his mother, Luca’s sister, and whistled so loud that he shocked the server pouring him a glass of orange juice. His laughter as the juice stained the white tablecloth said the kid had done exactly what he meant to do, especially when he smirked at his father.
“Whoops,” little Cross said.
“Cross,” Naz said, his sharp tone melting away the boy’s smirk.
“Sorry, Papa.”
“My fault,” the server was quick to say, dabbing at the tablecloth with the white towel she had previously slung over her shoulder.
“No, it wasn’t. Someone was just being a pest,” Naz muttered.
“Apologize to her,” Roz told her son.
The kid sighed.
Always dramatic.
“Sorry,” the boy told the server.
Not very sincerely, however.
Win some, lose some.
Luca kind of loved it—little Cross was a bit of a shit when he wanted to be, but the kid got it honestly whether anybody wanted to admit it or not. He was just like his father and grandfather. They had their quirks, and he had his.
The whistling at a pitch loud enough to burst eardrums was his newest thing to do. He liked learning things and once he had mastered the action—like whistling—he did it every chance he could. Luca also taught him how to do it. Naz didn’t let him forget it, either.
“Seriously,” Naz said at Luca’s side. “Thanks, again, for teaching him that shit, man.”
“Language,” came the warning of the boss’s wife where she sat beside the man at the head of the table. “There are children here, guys.”
“Right,” Naz told his mother. “Like I didn’t grow up hearing Dad call every other person a motherfucker just because he could.”
Light chuckles filtered down at the table. At the very end where Cross sat watching the scene with mild amusement tugging at the corner of his lips, the man only shrugged when he said, “He’s not wrong.”
“Cross!”
Little Cross whistled again, silencing the rest of his family. This time, it was because a pretty—younger—server walked into the room, and the kid’s eyes followed her every step. He might have been only five, but the kid already had a preference. Usually blonde.
Luca was to be blamed for that, too.
Hey.
They wanted him as a godfather. Could he really be blamed for passing things on to the kid when they spent time together? Besides, this shit was funny. He had to get his amusement from somewhere.
“Cross!” came the collective shouts from his parents.
And grandparents.
That was Luca’s cue. He was quick to stand from the table, snapping his fingers at his godson and pointing at the doorway. “Let’s go get that orange juice out of your pants, buddy.”
The kid glanced down but pushed out of his chair to stand when Luca came up behind him anyway. “My pants are dr—”
“Bathroom, kid. Now.”
“Fine.”
Luca followed little Cross to the doorway, hearing the quiet thanks from Naz at the table. He only waved a hand over his shoulder in reply. His silent reply of, not a problem, man. Sometimes, his games with his godson got out of hand. He knew how to correct it.
“You know better than that, shithead,” Luca told the kid who walked a few feet ahead of him in kid’s Doc Martens and a leather jacket that reminded him of his own. “And she was too old for you, anyway.”
Little Cross turned to say something to Luca but when his gaze flicked behind Luca, he raised a brow instead. “Hey, Grandpapa.”
“Kiddo. Head to the bathroom, yeah?”
The voice of his godfather—the older Cross in the family— had Luca tensing a bit. There was really only one reason the boss would follow him and his godson to the bathroom, and he doubted it was to pat the two of them on the back for the kid’s antics.
Luca nodded toward the back hallway. “Go. I’ll catch up.”
Once little Cross had disappeared into the hallway, Luca turned to face the boss, an apology already on the tip of his tongue. Like his father would always say, it was the respect of the matter. “Sorry, I didn’t teach him that to make a scene every chance he could.”
Cross rubbed a hand over his mouth, but it did little to hide the smirk forming on his mouth when he replied, “And yet, he does.”
“He’s just a kid.”
In his three-piece suit, the boss looked perfectly fit for his position with his dark stare leveled on Luca. Calm, unbothered, and cold. Luca knew that wasn’t really who Cross was under the demeanor he put forth, but he held onto it nonetheless. Anything else was bad for business.
“And he’s not what I wanted to chat with you about,” Cross said. “He’s Naz’s kid—his problem. Besides, it’s not like he’s giving his father any less shit than Naz gave me as a kid, right? Fair is fair, and I do like to be fair.”
Luca raised a brow, only hearing one thing that interested him. “What do you want to talk to me about, then?”
“Business. Or the business you were discussing with Naz at the table.”
Shit.
Nothing got past the boss.
“I was just updating him on something he has me—”
“Ah, he has you on a job, then. You’re still ... finding the unfindable, yeah?”
Luca folded his arms over his chest. “It’s what I do best.”
Cross tipped his chin down, a half nod. “Hmm. You don’t want to tell me what?”
“Do I need to?”
“No, of course not. You should be careful, though. Especially when looking for things that don’t want to be found, Luca. You might not like everything you uncover.”
What in the hell did that mean?
Cross didn’t give him the chance to ask before the man pointed at the hallway, saying, “Go get my grandson, give him an appropriate discussion about behavior while dining, and don’t discuss business at the table again. Understood?”