Riding Dirty: Luciotti Crime Family (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance) - Kara Hart Page 0,13
wasn’t much except offer more money, and my allowance was running out. I had a job to do and I was taking too damn long on it.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Just call me when it’s ready.” I adjusted my long coat and walked out the building.
“Wait, you left your coffee!” I heard, but I was already out of the building.
The sun was strong and blistering today. I looked at the one long street in front of me. I hated this town. How anyone could move here was beyond me, but it didn’t have one ounce of value to me. My options were either go to the café and stare at miss prissy-pants and her boss, or find a place to get a shot or two. I decided that both options were just as good as the next.
I pulled out another cigarette and walked to the café. In front of me were the douchebags I’d set straight the other day. Just my luck. I took one look at the middle man’s shattered nose and I could see the fear well up inside him. “Come on, guys. Let’s go,” he whispered to his friends.
“Seems like a good plan,” I muttered back. I parted my jacket from my hips and showed the grip of my pistol, hanging in my jeans. They started to walk a bit faster. I laughed to myself. All in all, I regretted hitting that little pipsqueak. But insult a beautiful lady like that, and I couldn’t be expected to restrain myself.
I was born on the streets of Detroit. Things were a little different then. But there was a strong code everyone obeyed. Certain actions were not unanswered. When the city turned dark, and all of the corruption spilled onto the streets, the rules started to change. No one knew what they could or couldn’t say. Some wise guys got their faces caved in for smiling the wrong way.
Unlike those maniacs, I was raised old school. The best and the worst of ‘em. We had a code and we stuck by it. And that woman, the one with the cute ass and hard charm, deserved a little better.
I smoked my cigarette in front of the café, observing the unlit neon sign above me. It was real classic looking, like it was trying to be something it wasn’t. “Café - Restaurant” the sign read. I kissed at it and whispered “bellissimo,” with a real Italian look on my face. I laughed to myself and took another drag.
All of these old paesans escaping some bad shit on the other side of the ocean, came here and opened up these cheesy little cafés. They slapped some half-assed Italian name on the sign and expected the best. They cheapened our heritage with this shit and didn’t even see it.
I looked inside for the old man. Better watch your back, buddy. I’m waiting for you. But he’s nowhere in sight. I put my hand against the glass and realized I was staring at that woman’s tits. She knocked on the glass and yelled “Up here, asshole.” I averted my eyes from her chest and see her angry eyes staring back at me. Shit, I muttered to myself, taking a step back.
She opened the door, holding a towel and some Windex. She looked a little out of breath and her hair curled in her eyes. She wore a short blue dress and her tits called my name. Did she really expect me, a red-blooded Italian, to not accept the invitation? I almost cupped them then and there.
“What are you doing here?” She spat at me. She was in a feisty mood today.
“Can’t a man come by for some coffee and a quiche?” I smiled and pulled out a wad of cash. It was something, at least. Only, was the last of my earnings for a while. Fuck it. I began counting the endless amount of hundred dollar bills and twenties.
She sighed loudly and said “Come in.”
“That’s what I thought,” I laughed. I looked around at the empty room and clapped my hands loudly. “Shit, does anyone come to this place?” I asked.
“One black coffee and a quiche?” She ignored my question.
“I liked what you made me last time.” I said, leaning over the counter. I grabbed one of the chocolate bars on display and pretended like I was reading the packaging. “What was that called again?”
“A red eye.” She said, rolling her eyes at me. “You going to buy that chocolate bar too? Or are you