Page 170 of The Bluffing Game

She walks down a small pathway, and I stay at the back of the pack. When I see them stop outside a door, I spin around and head back toward the cars.

Stringy-Hair Guy and Benny have turned their music up even louder, and Snoop Dogg is now playing from their tinny speakers. They’ve moved on to the smoking portion of the night, and I watch as they pass a joint back and forth.

“Hey.”

I step toward them, and they both eye me warily. Good. I want them to be afraid of what I might do. I push my jacket back slightly so that they can see my holster, and their eyes widen even more.

“I just wanted to introduce myself.” I take another step forward. “My name is Dalton. Dalton Leone. And, yes, if you’re wondering if I’m one of the Leones, I am.” I offer them both a cold smile. “The ladies are my friends. If anything happens to them, their car, even their groceries or packages, I will hold you both accountable.” I let my jacket drop and tap my boot on the ground. “I’m a nice guy, even a reasonable one, but I need to let you know as long as they live here, I will be around, and I will be a problem.”

“We didn’t do nothing, man.” Benny looks nervous and takes a deep puff.

“Good.” I shift closer so he can see the whites of my eyes. “’Cause if I hear of anything happening by you or anyone else in this dump, the entire place is going to burn down—you hear me? Starting with your truck.” I look over at Stringy-Hair Guy. “You understand?”

“We got it,” they chorus and nod. I smile widely before stepping back.

“Good, good. Well, you have a nice evening, fellas. It was great chatting with you both.”

I turn around and head back to Sage’s apartment. I’m hoping Sage will wise up and get out of here sooner rather than later, but just in case she’s stubborn as a mule, I’ve put them on notice. I know these two guys work for Sal. That they’re lookouts for him and the dealings that go on here. They’ll get the word out.

No one messes with a Leone, and even though I am no longer a part of the family business, I still have sway. I only hope I won’t have to follow up on my words.

Chapter 11

SAGE

I am not going to let anyone see me sweating. I can’t. Not Rosie, Lucia, or Izzy, and certainly not the men. Especially Dalton. Even though my heart is racing faster than a freaking race car in an F1 race. The two men in the parking lot were creepy, far creepier than I would have liked.

I hesitantly open the door, hoping beyond reasonable hope that the apartment has magically changed into something far better than I remembered. I won’t admit it, but I’m glad they’re all here with Rosie and me. If it were just Rosie and me, she’d sense that I was as nervous about this place as she was, and I wouldn’t be able to hide it. There are so many people here to distract her now—even though I could have done without Brett being here, getting on my nerves, acting like some big, brash protector. The way Rosie has been acting is beyond obvious, and I’ll have to get her to focus. The last thing she needs is a man like Brett, as he seems like he’s far too moody and far too quiet. Just like the last thing I need is a single dad like Dalton, who is just as alpha as Brett.

Like I can’t take care of myself. I’ve been in worse situations and gotten out of them. Though, for once, it is nice to not have to be the strong one.

I push the door open and step in, switching on the light as everyone makes their way inside. I can tell by the expressions on everyone’s faces that they aren’t impressed, but they’re trying to be nice. The apartment looks and smells worse than I remember. There seems to be an odd scent of rotten eggs and spoiled chicken, and I hurry over to the kitchen and open the fridge to make sure that nothing has been left inside. I sniff again, trying to locate the source of the disgusting aroma, and I attempt not to shudder when I see a bunch of fruit flies hovering over the sink.

“Well, this is certainly unique,” Izzy says as she heads toward me in the kitchen.

She looks around, her blue eyes kind, but I can tell she doesn’t love what she sees. But who can blame her? The place is a dump. Even I can see that. I may not want to take their charity, but I’m not delusional.

“Show me the bedrooms,” she says, plastering a fake smile on her face so she can appear positive. “Maybe they’ll be better. I know, in apartments, they sometimes put less money into the shared areas so they can make the bedrooms and bathrooms more special. Maybe they have a marble bathtub and real wood floors in those rooms.”

I can’t help but notice that she’s staring at the sticky linoleum floor, and I want to laugh. Like, does she really think there’s hardwood in the bedroom?

“There are no bedrooms,” I tell her.

I bite down on my lower lip as I shrug nonchalantly. Acting like I don’t care. Like I want to share a studio apartment with my sister in this horrible place. Like the sticky floor doesn’t bother me. Like I’m not thinking about what made them sticky—honey, snot, or cum. I shudder as I start to gross myself out.

You have to live here, Sage. Get it together.

“It’s a studio,” I say. “It’s all we can afford, but once we save more money, we’ll be able to move someplace better and bigger.”

“That’s why we’re looking for husbands,” Rosie says, stepping forward. Then she looks at me, her mouth going into an O shape when she realizes that maybe she said something she shouldn’t have. She knows as well as I do that we may come across as gold diggers if we tell people we moved here for rich husbands.

Izzy leans forward with a conspiratorial smile and laughs. “I get it. Trust me.” Her voice is warm.

I’m so grateful we met her. She’s the least judgmental person I’ve ever met.

“Sorry, Sage. I didn’t mean to say that in front of everyone.” Rosie looks around to see if the others heard her.

Luckily for us, Lucia, Roman, and Brett are still standing by the front door, whispering furtively about something. I frown when I notice Dalton is not there. I wonder if he had a call about Toby. I hope everything is okay.