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Briar
Lace snorts, stuffing a spoonful of what might be one hundred percent food dye in her mouth. She’s had two bites of her ice cream, and her tongue is already depicting more colors than rainbows have. Pointing her chin at my two scoops of French vanilla, she says, “You are so basic.”
My eyes roll as I take a seat at one of the small tables on the other side of the creamery lobby. “There is nothing wrong with vanilla.” I smirk toward where Chip is guiding Rowan through ordering ice cream. “What do you want to bet Rowan gets butter pecan or pistachio?”
“He’s gonna shock us and get strawberry.” Lace’s eyes narrow. “No. Birthday cake.”
“I’ll narrow my answer; he’s getting butter pecan. Two thousand dollars to the winner. One thousand to you if he gets anything but.”
Lace points her tiny green spoon at me. “You are hilarious if ya think I’m gonna fall for that. I don’t gamble with the house.” She sniffs. “I know better.”
Finally, Rowan settles into the bright, plastic chair beside me with the kind of sigh that marks a great emotional ordeal. He scowls at his butter pecan ice cream cup while Chip sits across from him with a chocolate cherry cone. “House always wins,” I murmur, and Rowan’s furrowed attention lifts to find me.
A distinct, unspoken, “Now what?” gleams in his dark eyes, so I, kindly, demonstrate his next step by taking a bite of my vanilla.
With all the caution of a man who fears he’s about to be poisoned, he lifts his minuscule, bright blue spoon to his mouth.
I smile. “So, now that we’re all settled, what do we have to report? Lace?”
Rowan’s posture hardens, and he casts me a wary look.
Tossing one leg over the other, leather pants creaking, Lace hunkers and sticks her spoon in her mouth, talking around it as she gestures vaguely Rowan’s way. “The big guy’s rackets could be more efficient. It’s all too clear every ounce of weight fell into the big bucks, leaving the rest solely under-utilized. Leaps and bounds have been made internally, but it would be better if the person moving the parts weren’t so allergic to change.”
Rowan flinches.
“Understandable.” I take another bite and look at Chip. “Do we have a solution?”
“Even after making Granger walk across the bridge and cutting the rest of his lackeys out, Veleno remains formidable in size. It’s time to stop optimizing current resources and address making new deals.” Chip taps his spoon to his lips, and his hazel eyes catch on Rowan for half a second. “What?”
“This isn’t a secure location to discuss these matters,” Rowan hisses.
“Sure it is. Right, Bobby?” I call to the man behind the ice cream counter.
Bobby grins, tugging his sleeve up his forearm to display the floral mark of my family. After a quick salute, he puts his sleeve back down in the same instant the front bell rings.
A mother juggling two crying toddlers makes her way to the display. A chorus of whining complaints fills the lobby as I beam. “See? Bobby’s a friend of ours. Totally secure.”
Rowan does not appear amused. But, I mean, when does he?
Grumpy as ever, he mutters, “You’re telling me you have high-ranking officers who can be privy to knowledge concerning the intricacies of my business working at ice cream parlors?”
Now that strikes a nerve. Smile falling, I say, “Bobby’s in the family, pet. Rosanera doesn’t operate on rank. Family is family. If someone joins, they’re willing to take bullets for their relatives. Anyone willing to go to war for me has earned my trust.”
“And the mother?” he counters.
My eyes narrow. “I think she’s a little too busy to care about what anyone else is doing. Take a breath, Rowan, before you piss me off.”
“Please don’t piss her off,” Chip interjects.
Morose, Lace shakes her head. “We’re still cleaning blood off the ceiling from the last time a guy pissed her off.”
Huffing a breath, Rowan says, “You just do whatever you want, don’t you?”
“Yes.” My brow arches. “Yes, I literally do whatever I want, Rowan. Care to know why?”
Gaze falling on my lips, he murmurs, “Why?”
“No one can stop me.” I take a breath. “So, really, I think the more important question is: who’s stopping you? Your parents aren’t here to control anything anymore. You stand at the helm of a lawless infrastructure. There is nothing you aren’t allowed to do and very few people who can try to oppose you. Respect isn’t something you earn. It’s something you demand.”
