Page 74 of Broken Warrior
“Without a doubt.” Doc glances at Prez then clears his throat again as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “Only difference between this body and the two Cobra prospects is where it was found.”
I wait for Berk to continue, but he doesn’t.
He says nothing more actually, and after staring holes in his face, I turn to my brothers.
None of whom will look directly at me.
“What the fuck is going on? I feel like there’s a hell of a lot that you assholes aren’t telling me and I—”
“The Dollhouse,” Jackal blurts. “The body was found behind The Dollhouse.”
Ice, pure fucking ice, fills my veins at that and without thinking, I charge my cousin and have the fucker pinned to the wall behind him.
“Elaborate,” I growl.
He lifts his hands to my forearms, not fighting me but instead trying to ground me. “His name is Rosco Shapiro.”
“Fucking great, but I want to know when this…” That’s when it clicks.
Rosco Shapiro.
Married and divorced three times, six kids, two of which belong to the current Mrs. Shapiro, and the rest to his mistresses.
Family is originally from the Tuscany area, immigrated in the mid 1800’s, ties to the Italian mob going back four generations.
Rap sheet a mile long with notable mentions of domestic abuse, assault and battery, sex trafficking and manslaughter.
And he’s a lieutenant of sorts to Gino Valetti.
“He was found last night,” Jackal says as he grips my arms tightly. “Head of security was doing a sweep of the parking lot before the girls left and he found that.”
“Why?” I growl. “Why was the motherfucker leftthere?”
“Take a seat and we’ll fill you in.”
I slam Jackal against the wall. “Tell menow.”
“We don’t really know.” His blue eyes search mine. “But we have a pretty good guess.”
“Which would be what?” With another growl, I shove him one more time before I let go, then spin to face my brothers, my goddamnfamilythat has clearly been keeping shit from me. “What aren’t you assholes telling me?”
Prez walks past the makeshift table, grabs a chair and plants it in front of me before he sits. “You gonna do this on your feet?”
I just nod.
“Your call, but you make a run for it and I’ll sic Brick on your ass. Got it?”
Another nod and a barely avoided eye roll. Brick is a solid choice. He might be the only one strong enough to take me on his own, but I’d still come out without a scratch. My height alone means I have a few good inches on him in reach, and I know I weigh more despite his brick shithouse status. Maybe Brick and Jackal together, but in a rage, well, we all know how that goes when it comes to stopping me.
I may be seeing fucking red right now, and I love these bastards like we share blood, but that does not mean I won’t fuck up any one of them if they try to stop me from getting a little justice for my dark angel, because yeah, this shit has everything to do with her. Why the hell else would everyone be on guard, be ready to pounce on my ass and keep me chill right now? Because whatever they’re about to tell me regarding this piece of shit directly corresponds to my girl and every one of them knows that’s playing with fucking fire.
“About two months ago, shortly after—”
“I went into rehab, yeah, yeah, I figured whatever went down happened while I was gone since I don’t fucking know about it. Just get to the fucking point.”
Prez lifts one dark orange brow. “Rosco Shapiro showed up to The Dollhouse one night and started asking a lot of questions about Tate.”
I will not lose my shit.
