Smoke (The Carelli Family Saga #1) - Eden Butler Page 0,64

the last time he’d been this close to me, the man was obvious how he looked at me, letting his gaze wash over me like I was prime rib and he was ravenous.

But like Alejandro, he’d let excess get the better of him. He didn’t seem as riddled by addiction as my ex-husband, but something had turned Reynolds into a thinner, older version of himself. Even his spiked, over-gelled hair was thin, and gray had begun to crowd around his temples. “That picture didn’t do you justice.”

I didn’t care if he looked at me. Let him ogle all he wanted. My attention was on my son wiggling in my arms and Dimitri lying on the floor. When I ignored him, Reynolds frowned, shaking his head.

“What is it with women and criminals?” he said, looking to Alejandro, as they both watched Dimitri. “This guy’s family funnels whores, drugs, and guns into the city, probably into that dumb little town of theirs and women get wet and willing just for a glance from fuckers like him.” Reynolds stepped next to Dimitri, the gun still in his hand, and I held my breath. But he didn’t aim it. In fact, he watched Alejandro. “Even your own wife. How the hell do you explain that?”

“Money,” he said, his voice heavy with disgust. “Women love money. That’s all they want.”

Let them talk, I thought. It didn’t matter to me. Mateo began to calm when I rubbed his back, nuzzling against my neck. I tried to calm my heartbeat, trying my best not to wonder how long Dimitri would be out or how badly he’d been hurt.

“What do you want?” I asked, getting both of their attention at once, as though they’d almost forgotten I was standing in the same room.

When they exchanged a look and Reynold’s smile returned to his face, I tightened my hold on Mateo.

That smile was wide, menacing, and it had me wishing I could reach the knife Dimitri had strapped to my ankle. “The objective can’t just be getting me here.” Alejandro watched me, his eyes were red-rimmed and irritated but he stood straight, as though he was coming down off something, and he prepared for it.

“Beautiful as you are, no, that’s not the only objective,” Reynolds said, moving away from Dimitri. When I glanced at the gun, he shrugged, holding it up, then slipped it into the waistband of his pants. “Touchy about guns? With that one around you all the time?” He looked back at Dimitri, grinning when he spotted the way he moved on the floor, how he held his head.

I moved forward, wanting to help him, but Reynolds grabbed me, holding me away from Dimitri with a death grip on my bicep. “Check him before he gets up,” he told Alejandro. “You should have done that when they got here anyway.” When my ex just stared at him, Reynolds grunted, releasing a long sigh. “For guns, asshole. Jesus!”

Alejandro moved, his frown hard at Reynolds, then at Smoke as he patted his back, coming away with two nines in his shoulder holster and the one at his waist. My ex-husband slid the guns across the floor and got to his feet, just as Dimitri sat up, making to reach for Alejandro, but missing him. His attention went straight to my face, then to Reynold’s fingers as they dug into my arm before he sat with his arms over his knees.

“Get your fucking hands off her,” Dimitri said, his expression empty, his eyes like steel.

Reynolds started to laugh, seeming to put too much faith in the gun he held. Men like him were all bravado. All possession. He thought holding that thing put him on equal footing with Dimitri. Maybe he thought it made him a man same as Dimitri.

He was wrong.

No one would fear Reynolds.

Dimitri didn’t need a gun or a blade to intimidate a soul. It was there in his eyes, in the slip of anger that penetrated when he glared. It was in the promise of menace one frigid look spoke.

He gave Reynolds that look now. All expression vacant on his face, but a warning, a vow to hurt him, shooting from the steel in his haunting eyes.

Reynolds might not be a real man, but he didn’t seem like an idiot either.

He dropped my arm and didn’t argue, didn’t stop me when I moved to Dimitri on the floor.

“Are you okay?” I asked him, hating that he only nodded, only touched my face, only kissed Mateo’s