He turned back to me.

“You can’t get rid of your mom and sisters, so you just have to get rid of Vito, Angela, Dom and Sissy.”

Something else occurred to me and I yanked again at his wrist.

“No. Not Sissy, because she’s a sister, so you can’t get rid of her, which means we’re stuck with Dom, too. Which also probably means were stuck with Vito. Shit!”

Ren twisted his wrist to grab my hand and hold it tight as he leaned into me, and I noticed his eyes studying me.

Intently.

“You’re freaked,” he whispered, and his voice sent a chill over my skin.

“I… well, a little bit,” I admitted.

“You’re totally freaked,” he stated.

His family was in there with my family, and some of his family engaged in criminal activities and my family was a cop family.

Not to mention, without warning, I was meeting his mother and sisters.

Of course I was freaked.

“Okay, maybe more than a little bit,” I allowed.

His eyes moved over my face in the waning sunlight, the air in the car got heavy then, again with the scary whisper, “My woman doesn’t get freaked.”

Uh-oh.

“Ren—”

“Let’s go,” he clipped.

Before I could say another word, he let me go, turned to his door and angled out.

I rushed to do the same thing. I barely got to the sidewalk before my hand was seized and Ren half walked with me, half dragged me toward my childhood home.

The dragging part had to do with the fact that I couldn’t keep up with his pace. I had on a pair of high-heeled bronze sandals that were awesome and went great with my new brown-washed jeans and kickass Stevie-Nicks-meets-Olivia-Newton-John batwing dusty blue top shot with bronze and silver that had a deep vee. But even the reminder that I had on great jeans, shoes and a kickass rock ‘n’ roll top didn’t unfreak me (as it usually would do).

We were at the base of the walk when the door opened and expelled Roxie and Indy.

Roxie had her hands up, palms down, pressing the air and she was calling out (but quietly), “Calm. Calm. It’s all going to be okay. We got out the leaves for the dining room table.”

This did not make me feel better, and not just because Mom didn’t have that many leaves.

Indy just lifted a hand and stated, “No worries. It’s under control.”

I couldn’t tell if Ren even looked at either one of them before he hauled us through them.

As for me, I had just enough time to give them a wide-eyed, warning-danger-is-imminent look they both totally understood before he tugged at my arm, pulling me in front of him. He did this while reaching beyond me to yank open the storm door, push open the front door then shove me in front of him.

I took two steps in, Ren one, and we were faced with a tense family room filled with people holding cocktails or bottles of beer; none of them, I noticed on a quick scan, having a good time.

Except Vito looked like Vito always looked. Expansive and happy.

Shit.

The Montagues and Capulets were never congregated in anyone’s living room. If they were, I had a feeling from the vibe in my parents’ house right then, Romeo and Juliet would be a much shorter play.

Crap.

“Malcolm and Kitty Sue,” Ren greeted my parents tersely with a chin jerk, and then his eyes immediately went to Vito. “Vito, a word outside.”

“Son, we’re havin’ a drink,” Vito returned, lifting up what looked like a Manhattan.

“A,” Ren started, his voice on that one syllable rumbling and another chill ran over my skin, “word.”

Vito and Ren went into a staredown.

Indy and Roxie squeezed in through the limited space Ren left at the door, but they didn’t move in much further, just because movement in that kind of volatile environment could mean bad things.

I held my breath.

Surprisingly, Ren won the staredown when Vito turned to Mom and Dad and said, “Mal, Kitty Sue, my nephew needs a word.”

Mal?

Oh God.

Dad’s lips got tight.

Oh shit.

Mom murmured, “Of course.”

Dad just looked between Ren and Vito and nodded.

Vito moved toward the door.

Ren moved us out of his way and looked at Dom. “You too.”

Dom, incidentally a man with looks that could make him Ren’s brother, not cousin (except he had wave in his hair and his confidence had swagger), was playing it smart for once. I knew this when he immediately made his way toward the door.

They disappeared behind it.

Mom spoke. “Ally, honey, I had another pork tenderloin that I just popped in the oven, and you know I always have backup Pillsbury crescent rolls. It’s okay.”

Pillsbury crescent rolls could be served at peace talks to put the negotiators in good moods. However, I was thinking their magic wouldn’t work here.

I looked at Mom and told her, “He’s a hotheaded Italian American badass. I think he needs to do what he needs to do.”

“He needs to do what he needs to do,” an attractive, petite, stylish woman who was sitting on one of my mom and dad’s couches confirmed.

She rose.

I took in Ren’s mother, then his two sisters who had been flanking her on the couch.

His sisters looked like female versions of Ren, long, lean and attractive.

His mother had silver hair, lots of it, and it was fashioned in a becoming style that curled in at her shoulders. She also had fabulous cheekbones and exotic features that had not dimmed with age. Looking at her, it came semi-clear why Ren’s dad didn’t share with this woman that he was what he was. Because she was currently a knockout; erase thirty-five years, she would be breathtaking. So even with just her looks, a man would do a lot to keep hold of that.

But I knew she was much more than just beautiful. Therefore Ren’s dad likely would do anything.

And he did.

She stopped in front of me and offered her hand. “You must be Ally.”

I took her hand and held it. “Yes. And you’re Mrs. Zano.”

“Amalea,” she corrected on a hand squeeze.

“Amalea,” I repeated on my own hand squeeze.

“As I told your mother,” she went on. “I was under the impression we were invited.”

Vito.

Jeez.

“I’m really sorry for the misunderstanding,” I replied.

“No misunderstanding,” she returned, letting my hand go then finishing on a sigh, “Just Vito.”

It was clear that there had been a lot of Just Vito times in her life.