I shot him a glare and focused in the scope.
“Me,” Nixon said in a cold voice. “Great to finally meet you, Mr. Rooks.”
“I didn’t catch your name.” Frank crossed his arms refusing Nixon’s hand.
“Now that’s rude,” Tex huffed. “Refusing to shake the boss’s hand? Frank knows the rules.”
“Yeah, but Trace doesn’t,” I argued, eying them through the scope. “And Frank looks less mobster — more killer — Grandfather right now.”
“Really? I could have sworn you knew it already.” Nixon moved until he was almost chest to chest with Frank. When Trace tried to break them apart, they both reached for her at the same time, gently coaxing her out of the way. It was a man’s game.
“I’m old.” Franks laugh was hollow. “Tell me again. What’s your name… son?”
Nixon’s jaw flexed. I could tell he was about two seconds away from punching the guy in the face. “Nixon Abandonato. But most people around here just call me sir.”
“You’re too young to be a sir,” he seethed.
“Aw, hell. No handshake, and now he’s insulting him,” Tex muttered under his breath.
And the Alferos wonder why they have guns aimed at their precious little heads.
“And you’re too old to be protecting your granddaughter.”
“Good one, Nixon.” Tex sighed. “Insult for insult — it’s like watching children argue about whose dad’s bigger.”
“I’ve been protecting her my entire life.” Frank poked Nixon in the chest, but Nixon didn’t budge. “And last I checked, I don’t take orders from a mere child.”
I exhaled. “Is it weird watching Frank’s face turn that purple while he pokes Nixon?”
“Poke the bear, poke the bear!” Tex chanted.
“Maybe it’s time to let someone else protect her,” Nixon said, his voice wavering a bit.
If I didn’t know him so well, I’d think he was feeling guilty at what he’d thrown innocent little Trace into.
She raised her hand. “Um, just FYI, I’m standing right here, and I have no idea why you guys are being such idiotic men right now, but I really want to go inside. I mean, I did almost just die back there.”
Frank’s nostrils flared. He reeled back and punched Nixon in the face.
“Ha ha, classic.” Tex raised his hand for a high five while I kept the gun steady on Frank’s forehead.
Trace groaned into her hands. “Grandpa, he saved me. He—”
“He…” Frank pointed at Nixon. Blood was gushing from his nose. “…is bad news, Tracey! I don’t want you seeing that boy anymore!”
“Boy?” I repeated under my breath. “Alfero has a death wish.”
“Don’t we all?” Tex yawned.
“No!” Trace yelled. “Why are you being like this? Grandpa, I miss you. I haven’t seen you in weeks, and you just punched my boyfriend in the face! Are you insane?”
“Did she just say boyfriend?” I hissed, moving the red light to Nixon’s forehead rather than Frank’s.
“Easy tiger,” Tex warned.
“Boyfriend!” Frank wound up his arm to punch Nixon again.
“Do it. Hit him,” I growled.
Trace stepped between them just in time. I cursed under my breath.
Frank dropped his hand. “Trace?”
“I like him.” She leaned back into Nixon’s frame, sighing when the bastard put his arms around her.
Come on. Frank just hit him already.
“He even beat up a guy that bullied me. He’s good. And I was going to tell you all about him over dinner tomorrow. Actually, I was going to invite him, but now that you’ve punched him in the face—”
“Trace.” Nixon’s voice was raspy. “It’s fine. You should spend some time alone with your grandpa tomorrow. Don’t go to class. Take a day off. Really, it’s probably best that you do, all things considering. You had a rough night.”
She turned in his arms and stared at him.
Nixon was immobile, like a statue. Shit. He was pissed and trying to push her away. I freaking knew he would hurt her — knew this would happen!
“Why are you doing this? Come with us tomorrow. It will be—”
“It will be best if you do as your grandfather says,” Nixon finished and licked his bloodstained lips. “It was… interesting meeting you again, Mr. Rooks. Be sure to keep an eye out for the shadows tomorrow evening. They’ve been lurking.”
“Hell.” I sighed, pulling the gun away. “At least he did his civil duty and warned Frank about the De Langes not cooperating…”