Henrik chuckled. “It’s good to see you like this.”
“What?” I barked. “Mad as a fucking hatter?”
“In love,” he countered. “In love with a good woman who has made you a better man.”
I scoffed, but my heart wasn’t in it because it was with Bianca where ever the hell she was getting up to trouble.
“Mind your own fucking business.”
“I’m too busy minding yours.” Henrik laughed. “Santo made contact with Bryant. Apparently, the old goat is interested in what he has to sell, especially if it has something to do with the Constantines.”
I snorted. “He’s utterly transparent and he doesn’t even give a fuck because he thinks he is too powerful to be taken down.”
I’d had the idea to use Santo as the bait luring Bryant into our trap because the two already had an established relationship. Even though Santo was an underboss in the Belcante crime family, Bryant was just arrogant enough to believe he could control the man and greedy enough to believe anyone would betray someone for the right price.
All that remained was constructing the right cage to lock Bryant into.
I’d tapped out just about every single one of my resources searching for information on the Constantine’s Halcyon operation that might tempt Bryant, but so far, nothing. Winston Constantine had his business locked up tight as a nun’s vagina.
Henrik’s phone chimed with an incoming message. I grabbed his wrist before he could even fully pull the device from his pocket and checked the screen myself.
Bianca: I’ll be late. Tell Tiernan not to worry. I’m just getting his Christmas present wrapped up tight.
Anxiety spiked through me like adrenaline, urging me to storm out the door and chase after her, where ever she was. I knew my little thing was up to no good, because she had more courage than sense most of the time.
“If she’s not home in two hours, we go after her,” I growled to Henrik who only nodded at me with his own concerned frown. “We don’t just have Caroline to worry about. Bryant has been too quiet. The fact that he hasn’t tried to have me maimed or killed is fucking disturbing.”
“For now,” I said a little louder so Brando could hear me. The kid was the only cure for the madness raging inside me. “I think it’s time for someone to get ready for bed.”
“Anca always lets me stay up ’til midnight on Christmas Eve,” Brando declared somberly, his fat curls shivering as he nodded along with his words. “It’s way too early for me to sleep.”
I arched a brow and fixed him with my coolest stare. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you? Because Santa skips houses where little lying boys live.”
Brando pursed his lips as he studied me for sincerity. “How about I just stay up for one more hour?”
A smile cracked my stern mask, but I didn’t try to curb it. “How about we do one more Christmas activity, you take a bath because you stink like sweaty gingerbread men, and then you go to bed after that?”
How a seven-year-old kid could bargain with me better than seasoned mafiosos and accomplished businessmen was beyond my understanding. But Brando grinned as if he’d won the lottery, slipped off the counter onto the green stool we’d bought for him and then scampered over to me to shake my hand. I took it soberly in mine for a firm shake.
“Bianca always reads me ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas,” he told me with a sly look. “And she lets me eat all the cookies I want before bed.”
“Lies,” I warned, pinching his sides to make him squeal with laughter. “I’ve done my own research, buddy, and too much sugar can trigger one of your episodes. You don’t want to be tired on Christmas, do you?”
He frowned, considering it for a moment. “No, I guess not.”
“Wise man.” I took his little, icing sugar sticky hand in mine and tugged him into the front parlor we’d put one of the Christmas trees in.
Ezra followed with a plate of cookies, Walcott with a tray of mugs filled with hot chocolate (with Baileys for the adults) and Henrik with his pink guitar. We all settled into the couches, Brandon tucked under my arm with his feet up on Ezra’s thick thighs.
Something uncoiled inside me, a tension I’d lived with for so long I hadn’t realized it even existed until it released itself. This was the Christmas tableau I hadn’t had since I was a boy, my family cozying up around the tree, happy and full of seasonal treats. Brando leaned his entire weight into my body, cheek to my chest as if I wasn’t some monster to be feared but a man who would always support him and protect him. It was the truth, but it moved through me like a religious revelation. I felt changed by the simple act of his implicit trust in me.