Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

He chuckles. “Yes. That one’s trouble.” His eyes grow
warm and his voice drops. “Not like my good girl.”
I quirk my lips and elbow him in the ribs. “Don’t be so
sure I’m good. There’s a reason we’re best friends, gangster.
We’re twin souls.”
He grasps my jaw and presses a gentle kiss to my lips.
“Your twin soul is the reason we’re at war now.”
“What do you mean?”
“The gunfight started that night at La Cantina because one
of the Irishmen who was killed slapped her ass when she
passed by as they were being seated. She stopped Stavros from
shooting him then, but when you and I got up and left the
table, the Irish came over and started talking shit. Asking her
what she was doing with a bunch of Russian pussies. You can
imagine how it went from there.”
“Oh my god.”
“Exactly. Then, at the annual Christmas Eve meeting of all
the families, the Irish were pissed and wanted compensation
for breaking the truce and for the loss of their men. I refused,
of course. You slap a woman’s ass and call her man a pussy,
you’re asking to be shot. The Irish didn’t like my answer. That
time, they were the ones who started shooting. It all went to
hell from there.”
“Wow.” I pause, thinking. “When I tell Sloane she’s the
reason the entire American mafia is at war, she’ll be over the
moon with happiness. I can hear the Helen of Troy
comparisons already.”
“You can tell her when she gets here tonight.”
Surprised and excited, I say, “She’s coming here?”
He nods. “With Mojo. I sent the jet for her.”
I laugh. “Don’t be surprised if she doesn’t return it. And
thank you. That means a lot.”
“I thought you could use the company. It’s not exactly
normal around here right now.”