Booze and Bullets (Brooklyn Brothers #3) - Melanie Munton Page 0,101

wants you to be. The man I think you want to be.”

He finally turned his head, his red-rimmed eyes piercing straight through me. “You really think I can be that man?”

I slowly shook my head. “You already are that man. You just have to believe it.”

I kept my eyes steadily trained on him, showing him how serious I was, how steadfastly I believed in him even if he didn’t. By slow degrees, his face began to harden with resolve. His eyes narrowed, just before he grabbed me and pushed me up against the wall. I gasped into his mouth as it covered mine, his tongue thrusting inside with unrelenting swipes.

“What was that for?” I panted once he pulled away with obvious reluctance.

“For having the courage to always tell me exactly what I need to hear. And for never putting up my bullshit. And for just being you.”

I grinned. “Anytime, pretty boy.”

He lowered his hands to find my own. “Now, I’m going to go do what I should have done a long time ago.”

I interlaced my fingers with his. “And I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

Maybe it was my own wishful thinking, but I swear he actually looked…relieved.

The last twenty-four hours had been hell. All of us crammed inside the hospital waiting room, trying to keep Mom calm and distracted. Waiting impatiently for news on Dad’s surgery.

Thank Christ, he’d made it out with flying colors and was now in recovery.

He was still pretty out of it from the anesthesia, so I hadn’t been able to speak with him. We’d all been taking shifts sitting with him so Mom could get some sleep.

But we had business to handle.

Connelly texted me earlier saying he had some new information for us on Esposito. Since all the girls were at the hospital keeping Mom company, I called a meeting.

Once everyone had gathered in Dad’s den, I took a seat behind his desk.

The same desk my great-great grandfather had used.

I wasn’t sure if I’d earned the position yet or not. But something told me that Dad would have happily given his full blessing.

Everyone took their own seats, barring Luka, who paced in front of the fireplace, a creature of habit to his core. He’d actually been even more cagey than usual lately. More agitated, even a little distracted. Something was off with him.

I cleared my throat, informally calling the meeting to order. “So…” I tapped my finger against the desk’s surface, eyeing each one of my brothers. “I’m taking Dad’s chair in his absence. Anyone have a problem with that?”

Their only response was to collectively shoot the same cocky smirk at me. Even Connelly.

I rolled my eyes. “Bunch of goddamn jackals in here.”

Rome raised a single eyebrow. “Would you feel better if we said, ‘’Bout fucking time, bro?’”

I cracked my neck from side to side, needing Lexi’s fingers to work their magic over that knot. “Maybe.”

“’Bout fucking time, bro,” they all said in unison.

I gave a curt nod. “There we go. All right, Bryce has some updates for us on the Esposito situation.” I tipped my head in the good detective’s direction. “Go.”

From his position on one end of the couch, Connelly blew out a long breath. “Well, you all know the Feds are running the manhunt for Raphael.”

I nodded.

“Well, I found out today that they recently uncovered some unusual activity with Raphael’s bank accounts just before he was ‘kidnapped.’”

“What kind of unusual activity?” Ace asked.

I knew our youngest brother certainly hadn’t found anything in his searches because he would have told us immediately.

Connelly leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “The transfer of a large sum of money from Raphael’s personal accounts to a dummy corporation.”

“How large?” Cris bit out.

Connelly met my gaze, voice grave. “Ten million.”

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“He paid someone ten million dollars to break him out of prison,” Luka concluded.

Connelly nodded. “That’s their assessment. The money was wired two days before the incident at the courthouse.”

“Why the hell are they just now learning of it?” Rome barked. “Weren’t his accounts being monitored? For fuck’s sake, the man had been in prison at the time.”

“It’s not too hard to make that kind of thing untraceable if you know what you’re doing,” Ace interjected.

“They said it was some serious dark web shit,” Connelly confirmed, holding up a finger. “But wait, it gets better.”

My eyebrow went up.

“They traced the money from the dummy corporation. It was buried beneath layers and layers of firewalls

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