Page 91 of Wicked Roses
“Of the nemesis variety,” Fabio says. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “I tried to tell him we were closed, but he insisted on ordering a mint julep.”
My glare hardens into pure rage. Fabio quickly steps out of the way, pressing himself up against the wall in the hallway.
I’m fast changing out of my bloodied clothes and then heading down to the ground floor. Nearly a decade has passed since the last time Daddy Adams and I were in the same city much less the same room.
When Delphine and I were dating, he’d opened up a full investigation into Nirvana. For two years we’d been under his careful microscope until the few charges he did draw up were dismissed by a judge we paid off. Lucius reassigned me to South Valley not long after, and the DA retired without accomplishing his major goal—putting the Mancinos behind bars.
By that time, Delphine and I were long over. The rivalry between me and him reached a stalemate. He’s stayed out of my way in his retirement and I was too busy in South Valley to be in his. But now—
“Hello, DA,” I say, stopping at his table. Nothing is warm and welcoming about my greeting. My face is an eerie blank slate, my tone rough. “We’re closed. Which means I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Right now, or you will be escorted out.”
The former DA relaxes into his booth, a mirthful shine reflecting in his almost-black eyes. Over the years he hasn’t aged much—some graying along his hairline and hints of crows-feet crinkling around his eyes. He’s still the same smug asshole I’ve hated from the moment I met him.
“I’m retired, Mancino. As you already know.”
“You’d think that’d mean you’d stop coming by to harass my club. Just couldn’t help yourself, is that right?”
He chuckles in the middle of a sip from his mint julep. “You call stopping by for a drink harassment?”
“From you, yes. Cut the shit, DA. Why’re you here?”
“I was in the area. I figured now was as good a time as any to pay you a visit. There’s a matter I’d like to discuss.” The corners of his mouth curl the more he watches me with open humor. When only my hostile silence answers him, he goes on. “Care to explain why my daughter has been living with you?”
Of course.
Delphine had mentioned he’d been growing suspicious. Her apartment being wrecked was probably the last straw. He wouldn’t let something like that go easily.
Either way, I give no reaction. Just a careless shrug, my arms crossed.
“Your daughter is a grown woman, DA. She’s capable of making her own decisions. Do you disagree?”
“For the last time, I’m not the DA, and of course I agree. My daughter is an intelligent, classy woman. She’ll never allow herself to be used by you for long. She didn’t back then and she won’t now. Mark my words.”
“You came all the way to Nirvana just to tell me that? You must berealworried, DA.”
He glowers, his drawn lips tight at my continued use of his former title. “I wanted to give you an early Christmas present.”
“That’s nice of you. Here I was thinking you hated my guts.”
“Idohate your guts, Mancino.” His laugh is rich and dense. Obviously perfected over time. Probably uses it often whenever he’s with his wealthy pals playing golf. He smooths one of his large hands down his woolly argyle sweater. “Soon you’ll be dealing with me a lot more often. It’ll be just like old times.”
“I couldn’t give less of a shit.”
His lips twist into a grin. “You will. I’ve been passive for too long. I see now that’s been a mistake. You think you’ll run the city just like your criminal father. You think you’ll manipulate my daughter again like before. All that comes to an end soon enough.”
“Guess that means I better enjoy every part of her for the holidays.”
“Holidays which will soon be over. Delphine will be moving into her own place very soon. You see, she’s only just beginning her career. She’ll be the most successful DA this city has ever seen. She won’t mar her career and lifelong dream with a black stain like you. You’ll be discarded.”
“We’ll see about that.” He has about a minute left before I break the glass he drinks out of and jam one of the shards into his jugular. Delphine’s father or not. He doesn’t get to stroll into my club and threaten me. We’re on my turf.Imake the rules.
If I want to turn his head into a dartboard, I’ll do just that—throw a knife at him. I’ll land one in his eye and we’ll see if he’s still so fucking cocky.
He must sense my impending rage. He gets up from his table with his wallet in hand. “Twelve years and you haven’t learned a thing. Still a step behind.”
“You’re going to frame me like you did last time? Twelve years and I would’ve hoped you’d gotten more creative.”
“No framing necessary, Mancino. This will be all your own doing. Wait and see. Tomorrow morning. Merry Christmas.”