SWNOVELS Chapter 32
I choose a dark green conservative dress that complements Brody’s eyes. He wears his usual dark, expensive suit, and looks incredible all dressed up like that. We ride together in a Bianco town car and head into the hotel where the party’s happening. Right away I wish we were anywhere else.
Cops have their own society. It’s a job built on decades of stress, alcohol abuse, and tradition, which means the people on the inside are protective of their norms and their way of life. Some cops are decent people, but all cops are awful, mostly because the system they get thrown into demands their awfulness.
My family exploits all the little holes in their world. We find their weaknesses and we dig our claws into them. That’s how the Bianco Famiglia has gotten any police influence at all, by blackmail and bribes.
Brody Quinn is different. He’s almost a part of this world himself. He greets a dozen different people the moment we walk in through the door, greeting them by name, mentioning details about their lives, complimenting their wives as if they grew up together. And as he begins to explain, that’s exactly what they did.
The Irish on the south side have another world. Like gears inside of gears. The neighborhood is a society too, its own little web of friendships, marriages, and societies. Which means when an Irish kid from down the block becomes a cop and winds his way through the ranks, he’s got friends on the other side of the line, friends that do shady shit for a living. Friends like Brody and Brody’s siblings.
There’s clearly still money changing hands. Captain Kennedy’s an example of that. But Brody is honestly well-liked by some of the people here, and he doesn’t stand out at all.
Except I do.
“Can’t believe you’d bring a fucking Bianco, Brody,” a little pale Irishman says. He’s a detective with a shit-eating grin named Dermot Byrne.
“She’s my wife,” Brody says, putting an arm over my shoulder, and I notice the tick in his jaw again. He’s smiling and pretending like it’s all jokes, but he doesn’t like this.
“Brody, bro, she’s a Bianco.” Dermot laughs and waves a hand at me. “No offense, but come on, it’s like inviting…” He trails off, looking for a metaphor.
“A wolf into a sheep enclosure?” I supply, batting my eyelashes sweetly.
“More like Darth Vader to a Jedi convention.” Dermot beams at me. “Fucking hell. I always thought I’d meet a Bianco in a courtroom.”
“Take it easy,” Brody says and steers me away from that conversation. “Sorry about him. Cops think they’re funny, especially when they’re not joking around.”
“It’s okay. Can’t say I’m surprised.”
It keeps happening. There’s another cop, an Italian guy who introduces himself as Luca Moretti. He practically stares at me with unrestrained disgust and refuses to shake my hand. “Shocked they’d let a Bianco in here,” he says, and I have to put a hand on Brody’s arm to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.
“Fuck that guy,” Brody snarls when he saunters off.
All night long, we keep getting into a conversation with Brody’s police buddies and they inevitably make some comment about my family, which makes Brody step up and defend me, and soon it feels like we’re burning bridges left and right. Which is the opposite of what we want. Except Brody just gives me a look and squeezes my hand when I tell him to stop.
“You’re my wife. The second I stop defending you is the second I don’t deserve you anymore.”
That’s a great argument and it makes me feel good, but he tests the limits when we run into Chief Christopher Morgan himself, an older Irishman who apparently knew Brody’s father very well back in the day. The chief is also friendly with my brother, or maybe it’s more like he’s friendly with my brother’s checkbook. The chief keeps giving me hard looks as Brody tries to make small talk.
“Let me ask y our wife a question,” he says, leaning in and pitching his voice lower. “Your brother ever decide to follow my advice and keep his head down? Or are all these murders that keep popping up because of this stupid little conflict?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Chief Morgan,” I tell him as sweetly as I can.
“I figured you wouldn’t, but listen up, Bianco. I know what’s going down. Everyone in this fucking room knows what you and your family have been up to. And if you keep on going—”
“Chief, I think that’s enough,” Brody says, stepping up beside me and putting himself in the chief’s line of vision. “My wife’s here to support the union and nothing else. She wrote a very generous check already. Are you going to make her feel uncomfortable all because you have some silly vendetta against her brother?”
Chief Morgan’s jaw works, but he shakes his head. “You’re right. I’ll keep things civil. But I’m watching this little shitshow, and I don’t like it.” He turns on his heel and marches off.
Brody steers me toward a quiet part of the room and sits me down at an empty table. “This is fucked,” he says, pulling his chair right next to mine and draping an arm across my shoulder.
I put on a smile and try to pretend like everything’s fine. “It’s okay. I kind of deserve it, right?”
“Fuck that. I don’t care who your family is, nobody treats my wife like this.” Brody’s staring at the assembled cops and their wives with unrestrained loathing. “Some of these people are supposed to be my friends.”
“I’m the enemy,” I say and put a hand on his strong thigh. “Can you really blame them?”
“Yes, I absolutely fucking can.”
“Honestly, Brody, it’s fine, I can handle it. I’m fine.” But even as the words leave my mouth, he stares at me with a mixture of anger and pity, and I have to look away. Maybe he can see through my bullshit. Maybe he can see just how much this is getting under my skin. I don’t need a bunch of asshole cops to think I’m the most wonderful, charming woman in the world, but nobody likes being treated like a pariah, and I’m no exception. I figured I’d get a cold but polite reception, not this hostility draped in a thin sheen of joking. If we still didn’t have one more thing to do, I would’ve convinced Brody to take me home a while ago.
“I know you can handle it,” he says, his voice soft, and he pulls me tighter against him. “But should you? For once in your life, think about yourself. Let me take care of you.”
“I’m the daughter of a powerful mafia family. If I can’t handle some cops being dicks, I should probably just give up. I’m strong, Brody.”
“I know you are.” He looks frustrated. “But strong doesn’t mean invincible. Strong doesn’t mean you have to do everything for everyone else and nothing for yourself. Let me step up and tell these fucking arrogant pricks to fuck off. Let me do something for you, baby, because I can’t stand around and take it for much longer.”
I pull him close and kiss him. I don’t have words to express how I’m feeling, so I hope my lips can do that for me. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone want to step up and take charge like this before. I’m normally the one trying to make sure everyone’s okay and going out of my way to fix whatever problems are circling the family. Except here’s Brody, trying to do the same for me.
And it makes me love him.
“I can’t let you beat up a cop,” I whisper to him and kiss him softly one more time. “But maybe you can call one an asshole or something.”
“Should I find Chief Morgan and start with him?”
“I was thinking the guy sitting at the bar right now.” I glance to my left and Brody follows my gaze.
He laughs gently and gets to his feet. “Perfect. My favorite guy in the world.”
He pulls me up and I lean against his side as we walk over. I love the way he smells, like ozone and fresh ocean water, and I can’t stop taking deep breaths when he’s this close. His arm feels safe around my shoulders, and it’s like I’m invincible when he’s hugging me tight, and maybe I lose some of that armor a little when we’re parted, but I’m stronger when he’s around.
That’s a new feeling. I’ve never met someone who only boosts me up and never drags me down.
“Captain Kennedy,” Brody says as he slaps the grumpy cop on the shoulder. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Captain Kennedy glares back at Brody and throws down a whiskey. “The fuck do you want, Quinn?”
“Just thought I’d come over and say hello to my favorite policeman. Did you say hello to my wife?”
He glowers at me. “Hello, Elena.”
“How are you, Captain?”
“I was great a few seconds ago.” He sighs and looks back at Brody, and it’s sad, but that’s the nicest a cop’s been to me all night. “I was looking into your little Maggie problem.” He leans back against the bar as he gestures for another drink. The bartender fills him up. “Seems like those shitty neighbors of hers are some real fucking assholes. Won’t be too hard to rustle up some reasons to hang over their heads, if you know what I mean.”
Brody snorts. “You cops always are good at using the law to get what you want.”
He shrugs, swirls his drink, and sips it. “Don’t fucking complain if it’s working in your favor. But the problem is, I still haven’t gotten my taste.”
“You don’t want to stay captain forever, do you?” Brody cocks his head and glances over at Chief Morgan. “A big bust could put you up at the front line for a big-time promotion should an opening ever occur.”
“Yeah, Quinn, I’m aware. Do you have anything for me yet?”
“I’m working on it,” he says and takes my hands in his. “I’ll have a body and the evidence all wrapped up in a neat little package very soon.”
“Make it very fucking neat. I need a conviction.”
“You’ll get it. Have a wonderful night, Captain.”
He grunts, flips Brody off, and gives me a sheepish smirk. “Lovely seeing you, Elena.”
“You as well, Captain.”
Brody drags me off. We head down the hall that leads away from the hotel ballroom before he ducks into a dark conference room. I’m about to ask him what the hell we’re doing when he lifts me up onto the table and buries his mouth on mine.
Which is all the answer I need.
I kiss him back, head spinning, feeling giddy and stupid. It’s childish to do this right outside the cops’ special union charity thing but that only adds to the excitement. Brody’s mouth devours me and when he hikes up my dress, spreads my legs, and yanks my panties down, the only words on my lips are yes, please and don’t you fucking stop.