Page 73 of Privilege

Renzo gave himself a couple of extra feet just in case.

John fingered a Zippo lighter, and flicked the top open and closed. Then, he pulled a cigarette out from its place tucked behind his ear and lit it up. Taking a hard drag from the smoke, he eyed Renzo from the side. His gaze did a slow travel, like he was weighing his options, or maybe trying to size Renzo up.

It made him fucking edgy.

John had a couple of inches on him, but that was it. Size-wise, they were about the same. Lean, but muscular. Able to take a good punch, or throw a mighty one.

He heard enough shit about John on the streets to know the man wasn’t to be messed with. Rumor was that he just got out of prison after serving a couple of years for going on a tear, pulling a gun on someone, and beating the hell out of a few cops during the process. People had a lot of things to say about John when someone had the balls to ask. They called him crazy … said he had no fucking control when he was pissed.

Renzo didn’t know exactly how true any of that was, but there was always a bit of truth to every rumor. Add onto it that John was a supplier for Renzo, and while these were his streets, they were also fucking John’s.

Simple as that.

“I hear you’re stepping out of line,” John murmured, wetting his lips as he stared at the cherry red tip of the cigarette. “How true is that, now?”

“Stepping out of line how?”

John gave him a look that said, foolish boy. “Don’t play dumb, Ren.”

“I don’t know—”

“My sister. Lucia. Seems you’ve been hanging around her a lot lately. Going wherever … doing whatever.”

Renzo arched a brow. “That a problem?”

“My father seems to think it is.”

“That sounds like something he should probably handle, then, doesn’t it?”

“Renzo.”

He didn’t know what did it—maybe the tone of John’s voice, so patronizing and cold—but Renzo tightened his hand on the gun at his back just in case he was going to need to use it. Fuck, he didn’t want to. At least, not on this man. It would do him no good to kill a fucking mafioso. Beyond that, this was Lucia’s brother.

Her brother.

“You’re not seeing things very clearly, are you?” John asked. “That, or you just don’t give a shit. There are bigger rules at play here. Ones I don’t expect you to understand. Your attention on Lucia isn’t appreciated … that’s all there is to it. So, either you’re blind, or you’re just too stupid to care. Either way, I am here to warn you before someone else comes looking for you on these streets to do it. Trust that you want my warning, and not theirs. Listen to me, and you’re going to be fine.”

“And what’s the warning, then?”

He figured he already knew.

His answer was already picked out, too.

“Stay the fuck away from my sister, Renzo,” John said, pushing off the alleyway and closing about five feet of distance between them in a blink. Just like that, the seven feet rule was gone, and Renzo had to make a choice to act, or not. He hesitated … just long enough for John to take a drag from his cigarette, and toss it to the ground. “Stay away from her, or you’ll be lucky to walk these streets again. Do you hear me? I’m trying to help you out here.”

Renzo let go of the gun at his back, suddenly unconcerned about having to use it. That’s all this was—one big fucking show.

Nothing was going to happen.

Not today.

“Well, do you understand?” John asked.

Renzo smirked. “How about fucking no?”

• • •

Renzo’s first inclination when he saw Lucia sitting on the steps of his apartment building laughing with the other people who usually loitered around the front was to ask her what in the hell she thought she was doing. But he didn’t. Instead, he hung back a bit, and watched her interact with people who had only given her some kind of grief any other time she showed up at his place.