Page 22 of Unruly

That’s exactly what it was.

Marcus was a couple of years younger than Cross, and not yet sitting in the boss’s seat. He’d been his father’s underboss for a good few years. It was time to begin the transition, and he suspected that was exactly what Gian Guzzi was doing with his eldest son.

“I have to head back to the airport soon,” Cross said, “so if you don’t mind, I need to get this business cleared up quickly.”

“No worries.” Marcus took a seat, and waved at the waitress in the upscale Toronto restaurant. “Make me a drink, Clarissa?”

“You got it, Marc.”

Cross looked over his shoulder at the young woman who shot Marcus a sweet smile before heading toward the bar. “A friend of yours?”

Marcus smirked. “Something like that. Business, right? Let’s get to that.”

Right.

Cross pulled out the file from the bag at his feet. He slid it across the table, and Marcus quickly snatched it up. He stayed quiet as the younger man looked through the details of the next gun shipment due to the Guzzi family. He was always careful with his plans, and exactly how he intended to get the guns to their targeted drop.

“The Limestone, Maine border going into New Brunswick will work,” Marcus murmured.

“We’re lucky if there’s even two custom guards on the weekends,” Cross replied. “It’s an easy pass, really. I try not to use it often, as I don’t want to draw attention to the spot. We’re still waiting on some other shipments to get in to finish the specifics your father wanted, so it’ll be a while yet before the drop.”

“Still on time, though.”

“Of course.”

“You don’t mind Gian sending someone over to check the guns once you get them into a New York port, do you?”

“He usually does,” Cross said with a shrug. “They’re always fine—he still sends somebody.”

“Detail oriented,” Marcus said.

“So am I. It’s why I don’t complain.”

Marcus closed the file up, and gave Cross his attention again. “It looks good, man. If anything changes, let us know so we can work accordingly.”

“Will do.”

Standing from the table, Cross shrugged on his leather jacket, and downed the rest of the whiskey he had ordered.

“You going back home?” Marcus asked.

“Nope. I’ve got somewhere more important to be.”

After all, Cross had learned it was the important people in his life that couldn’t be forgotten. Never, no matter what. She couldn’t be forgotten. They couldn’t be forgotten.

Cross rolled over in the bed only to find it was empty when he reached to pull Catherine closer. Blinking awake, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and groaned away the exhaustion.

“Catty?”

No answer.

He looked to the opened bathroom door attached to their master bedroom.

“Babe, you in there?”

Still, nothing.

Grumbling under his breath, Cross rolled out of bed. The hardwood floors cooled his bare feet as he headed out of the bedroom in search of his wife. He didn’t like waking up alone, but it happened more often than not considering how much Catherine was coming and going from their home while she worked for her mother.