the strong hand belonged to the wrong person. He shook it off. “We’re really friends. Who are you?”
“Asa.”
“Are you friends with Luis?”
“I was, once upon a time, which is why I know you coming here is a bad idea. Dante already—”
Footsteps behind Asa cut him off. He moved quickly to reclaim his position, and by the time his sidekick reappeared, it was as if the exchange had never happened. Asa stared straight ahead, and Paolo turned his attention to Martell, relieved to see his expression had lost its harsh edges.
“You checked out,” he said. “Leave your shoes by the door.”
“Which door?”
Asa’s smirk returned. “114. It’s the one at the end.”
He stepped aside and waved Paolo through. His humour remained, but Martell’s stare was hard enough to make Paolo nervous. Paying Dante an unannounced visit had seemed like a good idea when he’d been all rage and righteousness, but it was a massive risk. The only facts Paolo knew about Dante was that he was a gaping arsehole who’d thrown his little brother to the wolves. He had zero clue how he’d react or what he’d do if he decided Paolo was the last person on earth he wanted to see.
Flat 114 was exactly where Asa had said it would be. The door was open. Paolo slipped inside, toed off his shoes, and followed the sound of voices into the living room. He imagined walking into a room full of muscle men, tooled up, with mean mugs and piles of cash in front of them, but he found Dante Pope alone, stretched out on an obnoxious couch, watching Bargain Hunt in his underwear.
Paolo forced himself to look. Dante’d had plenty of time to put his clothes on. He’d left them off for a reason, but if he was trying to make Paolo uncomfortable, he’d fail. Dante had the same strong arms and tattooed skin as Luis, but the similarities ended there. Luis’s gaze was often so haunted it was hard to see anything else in him, but when his guard was down, he had kind, honest eyes.
Dante’s were sharp and cold and didn’t match the big smile he broke out for Paolo. “So, I was right.”
Paolo stopped by the coffee table. “Right about what?”
“About you and my brother. Asa told me Luis doesn’t do relationships, but I know my brother’s got a soft heart, and you’re just his type.”
“How do you know what his type is? He’s been in prison for six years.”
“And I knew him for twenty before he went down. Of course, he never had an actual boyfriend, but I saw the dudes that would catch his eye. Always the dark ones. I prefer blondes myself, and tits. Nice big tits.”
“Good for you.”
Dante snagged a joint from an ashtray on the table and offered it to Paolo.
Paolo waved it away. As tempting as it was to take the edge off the agitation scraping his insides, he needed a clear head. “I want to talk to you about Luis.”
“Of course you do. What’s the problem? Is he not washing your dishes well enough?”
“Luis is a good worker.”
“I know that. He used to work for me.”
“Are you trying to get him to work for you again?”
Dante lit up and blew smoke in Paolo’s face. “Why would you say that?”
Because he’s out there somewhere losing his fucking mind, when he should be safe at home with me. “Because he’s . . . distracted. And your visit the other week freaked him out. Why did you come?”
“Not a crime to visit your baby brother at work, is it?”
“No, but if you were that fussed, you’d have showed up months ago.”
“If you think that, then you don’t know Luis at all. He didn’t want to see me when he first got out. Otherwise, you’d have seen my face at the start.”
“Why did I see your face at all? Why can’t you just leave him alone?”
“Is that what he said to you? That he wants me to leave him alone?”
Sensing a trap, Paolo went with the truth. “He hasn’t said anything to me.”
“So why are you so sure I’m the problem? My brother’s a complicated person, man. Dude is never happy unless he’s fucking miserable.”
“Maybe you’ve never given him the chance to be anything else.”
“Expert on my brother, are you?”
He had Paolo there. The only masterclass he could give on Luis was how to make him come in two minutes flat, and even that was only when Luis wanted him to. When he didn’t get