“Swear to God, Minka.” Archer releases a heavy breath and jerks me around. “You said you had to pee.”
“I did.” I take his hand in mine, but I don’t toss it away. Because I see the way his pulse thunders out of control. I see the fear embedded in his eyes. “I ran into that chick in the bathroom. We talked for a minute, and then we came out here and he approached us.”
“You talked?”
“Hardly! I might’ve slipped a barb or two into each pleasantry we exchanged, I stoked his temper a little, and then you?—”
“No, you and Jasna. You spoke to his wife?”
Jasna? Interesting.“I asked her when she came to the US. Her accent is not that of someone born here. I recognized what I thought were Slavic origins, so I asked about them.”
“Did she speak back?”
“Not a lot.” I narrow my eyes and search his emerald gaze. “Only that I shouldn’t worry about Agosti hurting my family. She said he’s weak.”
“Doctor Mayet?”
I startle again and glance over my shoulder, swallowing as Estefan Cordoza strolls leisurely along the hall with one hand in his pocket and the second fastened over the top of an ornate walking cane. Unlike us, and unlike Agosti, Cordoza walks with an entourage of men willing and able to wage war with no notice.
“Mr. Cordoza.” From formidable to respectful, Archer brings me back to stand side by side, tucking me under his arm and cinching me close on his left side. “Sir. Enjoying your evening?”
“I am.” The old man slows four feet away, a playful twinkle in his eyes and a teasing twitch in his lips. The man exudes money and power, but a youthful mischievousness peeks through as he gestures back the way he came. “Anything going on between you and Agosti I should know about?”
“No, sir,” Archer answers. “I happened across him speaking with my wife, so I approached and politely asked him to move along.”
Or, ya know. Told him to fuck off.
Curious, Cordoza’s eyes flicker to mine, then, hooking the handle of his cane over his arm, he closes the space between us and sandwiches my hand in his. “Did my guest upset you, Doctor Mayet? Have I stumbled upon trouble I should deal with?”
“No, Mr. Cordoza.” I allow him to pull me in—because that’s what’s expected—and then I hold still as he kisses my cheek. Unlike Anthony Agosti, my skin doesn’t crawl when I look into Estefan’s eyes. My temper doesn’t spike when he touches me. Simply put, I don’t feelickywhen he smiles. Estefan Cordoza reminds me of Steve, but richer and with an army at his beck and call. “I ran into Jasna in the bathroom,” I explain. “Naturally, when we exited, Anthony was waiting. He introduced himself, collected his wife, and went about his evening.”
“Simple as that?” Cordoza’s expression flickers with amusement. “No harsh words spoken?”
“None worthy of repeating. Are you well, Mr. Cordoza? Healthy?”
“As can be.” He sets the cane on the floor and leans on it in a way he didn’t have to even a year ago when we first met. He settles back on his heels, relaxed despite the power that would shift in New York if he simply… didn’t make it out of this building alive. “I saw you on the news this past week, Doctor. You wore a gown similar to the one you have on tonight, but you were significantly less composed.”
“I tend to grow a little sweaty and sweary when a man is dying in the street.” I sidle up against Archer and smile. “That man didn’t survive. But my next two patients did.”
“Decent odds. And I saw your neighbor earlier.” He knows too much. He knowseverything. “Mr. Morris. You saved his life that day, no?”
“Mm. He was one of the three.”
“His prognosis is good?”
“As good as can be expected. I like to think he’ll be on his best behavior going into the future. More vegetables, less fried food, more exercise.”
“Is there anything I can offer to assist Mr. Morris’ recovery? You have in-house medical care, I’m told. Do you require anything else?”
“No, but thank you.” I wave him off—not very elegant at all. “We’ve borrowed Felix’s Mary, so assuming she knows what she’s talking about, I think we’re in good hands.”
“Oh, look! The party has been moved out here.” Sophia steps through the reception room doors with her security posse in tow and a salacious grin plastered across her beautiful face. She’s always been too brave for her own good. Too loud for safety. Despite Cordoza’s guards turning defensively, and despite the hands that shift beneath their coats—to guns, no doubt—she sweeps through the crowd and straight into Cordoza’s welcoming arms. “Estefan. You look fantastic.” She presses a kiss to his left cheek. Then the right. “I was thrilled when I heard you would be here tonight.”
“As was I at the news that not only one, buttwoSolomon sisters would attend.” He inches away, but only to beam as Ellie steps out of a Checkmate guard’s shadow and replaces Soph in the old man’s embrace. “Michelle. My sweet, sweet girl.”
He knows her name is not Michelle. But old habits die hard, and wrapping her in a hug that borders on paternal probably means neither of them gives a shit which name is spoken.
“Small town life suits you, sweetheart. All that fresh air is excellent for your complexion. I dare say you’re glowing.”
