Disorganized Crime: A Kat Makris Greek Mafia Novel Read Online Free Page B

doesn't hurt to be decent to everyone, just in case He's waiting to rubber stamp my exodus to hell. The other part of me is nice to them because you just never know if they're unhinged. These are people who believe we can sit in a garden paradise and break bread with lions, tigers, and bears. Maybe the bears could be bought off with the bread, I didn't know, but I was pretty sure lions and tigers preferred their meat hot, fresh, and yelling for backup. While I was being nice, I reminded them that I was doing them a favor, saving their organization money by saying no to their paper goods.
    Grandma hadn't tried to sell me on anything yet, but our fledgling relationship had the solidity of quicksand. And me, I'd had a childhood fear of quicksand. They made it out to be such a huge deal in those days. As an adult, I still expected it to be like spiders: they say you're never more than three, six, or ten feet ('they' are fuzzy on the math) away from a spider, at any given moment. Every day I didn't step in quicksand was a mild shock.
    My grandmother was surprisingly spry. She scrambled past me and buckled herself in while I was trying to get a grip on the situation. While I was doing that, a policeman swaggered up to the window, tapped on the glass with his big stick.
    Using one finger, I rolled down the window and tried to be cool. "Can I help you?"
    He crouched until he was at eye level. I immediately recoiled, because who looked like that? I mean, who looked like that outside of a magazine? Nature doesn't normally Photoshop people, but it Photoshopped this guy. He looked big and bad and delicious buttoned into the pale blue shirt of his police uniform. The bottom half was navy blue. Each epaulet on his shoulders was marked with a six-pointed silver star. He was maybe five-eleven or six-foot. Dark hair with a wave that probably turned unruly fast without a regular clipping. Skin the color of melted caramels. His eyes were a soft brown that were clearly entertained.
    "Can I help you ?" he asked.
    Laughter came from the passenger seat. "Stay out of my granddaughter's pants, eh, Nikos?"
    That charming smile melted away. He glanced from her to me and back again.
    "Your granddaughter, Kyria Makri? Since when?"
    "Since my son ran away to America and had sex with an American woman."
    "Hey," I said. "They were married."
    "In the Greek church?" my grandmother asked.
    Uh … "No." Not big on ceremony, they'd thrown a quickie wedding at the courthouse, followed by a boozy reception at a brewhouse.
    "Then it was not a real marriage, but that is okay, you are still my granddaughter."
    The two goons in the back were quiet—real quiet.
    "What do you want, Nikos?" Grandma asked.
    He shrugged, gaze stuck to my face like sun-warmed gum. "I heard a story that you were out zooming around the streets of Volos without a license."
    "Who was zooming?" She glanced around the limo's very nice, very fancy interior. "Only Katerina was driving, and she is a very slow driver. Americans," she said, waving one hand. "They drive like old women."
    Not like this old woman, I thought. Grandma could go NASCAR if she wanted.
    "Where is Xander?" he asked.
    "Busy."
    Officer Nikos, Constable Nikos—whatever—rapped his knuckles on the car door. "Okay. Do you need a police escort?"
    "What for?" Grandma asked.
    He shrugged. I could sit here and watching him shrug all night long. What the movement did to his shoulders was intoxicating.
    "Word is these are difficult times," he said.
    "Times are always difficult."
    "Especially difficult, then."
    Grandma wagged a finger. "Nikos, Nikos. You are a good boy. Go home, drink a beer, watch some TV. Think about getting married and having a family."
    His gaze cut to me.
    " Tsk. Not my granddaughter. Someone else. I have plans for her."
    Wait—what? My mouth opened to launch a protest, but the old buzzard chose that moment to lean forward and pat the policeman's hand. She timed it perfectly with a sharp elbow to my gut. A clear