Sparrow - L.J. Shen Page 0,45

Sahara desert.

Brock sucked hard on the cig. This time his mouth hung open after he exhaled, a swirl of smoke traveling upwards. “Cat treats Sam like dirt.” He ran a hand over his hair. “This morning, he went to school wearing filthy clothes because she’s decided he’s not worth doing the laundry for. I almost flipped when he tugged at his shirt, seconds before I dropped him off, sniffing it to make sure he didn’t smell too bad. He said that he didn’t want kids to make fun of him. Man, this is the kind of shit that breaks your heart.”

He rubbed his eyes, continuing before he realized it was me he was confiding in. He must’ve been desperate. “Anyway, I did a U-turn. We ended up buying fresh clothes at Target, and he changed in the bathroom before I dropped him off. Spent the next thirty minutes sitting in my car in front of his school, practicing this stupid-ass breathing exercise from that tape you bought me for Christmas.”

I almost snorted. This was too much. The only reason I’d given him the tape was to piss Catalina off. She was whining like a bitch about Brock being too good and proper. It was a joke aimed at him. And he’d walked right into it.

Brock looked up at me, searching for my response.

I eased back into his soft leather chair and knitted my fingers together. “Some piece of work, your wife is. If you ask me, I always preferred the single life.”

“You’re married now,” he reminded me.

“I guess sometimes it’s easy to forget,” I said through my smirk.

He lolled his head sideways, stubbing the cigarette into an empty mug with a picture of him and Cat. Something she gave him to remind me of her every time I walked into his office.

It was cute how she thought I cared.

“I’m guessing you’re not here to discuss my marital problems.” Brock leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees, and tapped his fingertips. “Why are you here, Troy?”

“Patrick Rowan.” I cut straight to the chase, looking out the window, people-watching as I spoke. “I wanna know what ties he has left in Boston.”

Brock raised his brows, throwing himself back and sighing loudly. He didn’t like this turn of events, and I had no idea why. Rowan, my father’s right hand before everything flushed down the shitter, was just an old washed-up mobster. He’d kept the gambling piece of my father’s empire alive for him for a while even after my dad was dethroned, but eventually Paddy had branched out on his own. He’d high-tailed it out of the state to Miami when the Armenians decided they wanted his head on a plate. I discovered why a few months after my father was killed.

Yeah, Rowan had left enemies everywhere, but on Friday night, he’d made one too many of them in the form of me.

“Rowan?” He frowned. “Why?”

My jaw tightened when I thought about the answer to this question. Did I still hold a grudge against Rowan for stealing money from my father years ago? Sure. Did the fact that he touched my wife act as an incentive to finally seek retaliation? Hell yes. Was I in the mood to watch bad people paying for their sins? You fucking bet.

I’d hit a dead-end with my Kill Bill list, still not sure who sent Crupti to kill my father, and I wanted to play. Dealing with Rowan might take off the edge.

“Find out how to contact his second wife.” I ignored Brock’s question.

“What crawled up your ass? Got a new beef with Rowan all of a sudden? He’s rotting of cancer, you know. Leave him alone. You’re beating a dead horse.”

“Not dead enough for me,” I countered, picking up my own cell and punching the touch screen furiously. “I’m going to pay him a visit in Miami.”

“Are you sure? I’m not feeling comfortable about you harassing a guy who is dying of cancer.”

“I’m not paying you to feel comfortable, Brock. I’m paying you to follow orders.”

He stood up with thunder in his eyes, about to storm out of the room, when he stopped in his tracks. “Is he the guy who sent Crupti?” His voice cracked as he half turned.

Brock knew I was after the anonymous motherfucker, even had helped me seek him out.

“Just do as I asked. By the way…” I cleared my throat, avoiding the stream of hellos coming from my phone and watching Brock intently. “I hired my wife to work at