Blood and Fire (McClouds & Friends #8)(24)

The dress dropped. She straightened, ribcage tilted to show off her breasts to the best advantage as Julian pushed open the doors. He took note of Zoe’s nudity and gave them a look that implored forgiveness before stepping aside to admit Michael Ranieri.

Michael was tall, stocky, in his fifties, like King, and blessed with the swarthy good looks that graced most of the Ranieri clan. He opened his mouth to complain. It froze open when he saw Zoe. Whatever he had been meaning to complain about evaporated from his mind.

King’s mouth twitched. Michael was so predictable.

The man cleared his throat. “Ah . . . did I interrupt anything?”

Such a stupid, annoying question. King gave him a friendly smile. “Oh, nothing that won’t keep and be perfectly enjoyable later. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Michael? And at this unusual hour?”

“Can I speak in front of . . . ?” He pointed at Zoe.

“I trust Zoe absolutely,” King said. Zoe’s eyes shone with delight.

Michael flapped his hand. “I was at my father’s eightieth birthday party,” he said fretfully. “I couldn’t get away until late. They’ve been busting my balls the whole past month. Ever since we heard about Parr killing himself in the nuthouse.”

King’s mouth tightened. “So sad, isn’t it?”

“Hah.” Michael snorted. “The only reason Howard Parr would die, and his daughter go missing, is because he talked. So did he talk?”

Every now and then, Michael showed a brief flash of inconvenient intelligence. “I’m taking care of it, Michael,” King said.

“Oh, f*ck,” Michael snarled. “So he did talk. So, this Parr girl, what was her name, Lily? Is she dead? Tell me she’s dead, Neil.”

“I said, I’m taking care of it.”

Michael threw his hands in the air. “That’s just great. So she’s on the loose, looking for Bruno Ranieri? You do remember that you can’t touch Bruno. You know what would happen to us if you did, right?”

King sighed. “I’m not planning on killing them,” he lied smoothly.

“So it’s true, then? You were the one who did Howard?”

King gestured at Zoe, giving credit where it was due. “She did.”

Zoe preened, displaying her perfect naked self with a queenly nonchalance that made Michael Ranieri tug at his collar.

King caught Zoe’s eye, made a twirling gesture with his fingertip. Zoe gave him a smoky smile and spun on the balls of her feet. She did a three-sixty, and another half turn, placing her hands against the wall. Arching her back, legs parted. Oh, that naughty, slutty, clever girl.

Michael jerked his hypnotized regard away from Zoe’s ass and shook himself like a wet dog. “So. About Bruno. You remember—”

“The famous letter, yes. More than a year has passed since Tony Ranieri was killed. They haven’t sent it yet. Why are you so nervous?”

“BLily Parr is on the loose!” Michael yelled. “And if Howard spilled the beans to her, and she tells Bruno, then you’re going to want to make a move, right? But if you do, we take it up the ass, Neil! Rosa Ranieri is a jealous bitch who’ll f*ck us just for spite!”

“Italian families,” King said softly. “So colorful. Cousinly love.”

“Second cousins.” Michael stressed the distinction. “They’re only second cousins. And they’re poison. I was the one that opened Tony’s package twenty years ago, Neil, remember? With the severed fingers?”

King made his voice soothing, reasonable. “Michael, please. Think about it. Will anyone really care about that letter, after all these years?”

“Fuck, yes, they’ll care! Didn’t you hear about Sonny Franzese? He was put away at f*cking ninety-three! I do not want my father to go to prison, Neil! He’s eighty years old! And he’s not well!”

It was clear from Michael’s wine-flushed face that he was under the impression that this was all somehow King’s problem. But now was perhaps not exactly the moment to make this clear. Perhaps Zoe could deliver the message some dark night. With a long knife.

And in the meantime, Zoe could also provide some badly needed distraction. “Zoe, my dove,” he said. “Pour Michael a glass of wine.”

Zoe obliged. Michael stared at her breasts, his face going hot and lumpish with lust. “Is she one of your, uh . . .” He trailed off, took the wine, his limited vocabulary failing him. “Will she, uh—”

“Do anything I ask?” King finished softly. “Yes, Michael. She will.”

Michael gulped wine, staring. His erection was painfully evident.

King sighed, yielding to the inevitable. After all, Zoe was not made of soap. And at least this way, Michael could do the requisite grunting and sweating. King needed only to lean back and do the honors, reciting Zoe’s reward codes. “Would you care to partake?” he offered politely.

Michael’s eyes flashed. “Don’t mind if I do. Is there a room—”

“Right here. I need to be close to her, so I can use her codes.”

“Codes? What the f*ck? You mean, do her right in front of you?” Michael shook his head. “That’s sick, Neil. We’re not eighteen anymore.”

“The code gives her orgasms more powerful than anything you’ve ever felt,” King coaxed. “Quite a sensation, for the man on the inside.”