The waitress returned with their drinks, and Brogan only took a sip of his before sliding out of the booth. Alarm shot through her. He wasn’t leaving her alone, was he?
“I have to make a call,” he said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be watching you.”
That sentiment should have been creepy, but she just felt reassured. Sipping her wine, she sat back in the booth, content in the knowledge that she was in a neutral zone. Who would have thought there was somewhere safer than the police station?
6
BROGAN
He hated not having his weapons. He turned over almost everything, knowing that they wouldn’t expect him to have anything else, but he kept a dagger hidden inside the lining of his jacket. But that made it difficult to get to.
He hadn’t lied to Amy. The Sanctuary was safe. Even a fucking psycho like Mancini wouldn’t dare to make a move here.
Brogan just felt more comfortable when he was armed, especially when he was trying to keep someone else safe. His eyes flickered over to Amy again as he held the phone up to his ear and listened to it ring. She was sitting where he left her, watching the band as she sipped her wine.
“Hello?” Owen answered, his voice gruff.
“I’ve got her,” Brogan said. “But the Italians were there too. There was some gunfire, but Amy wasn’t hurt.”
“And you?” Owen asked.
“We’re both fine. We’re at The Sanctuary.”
“They moved fast. I don’t like it. I’d hoped that they would take a little time for them to regroup after what happened at the warehouse.”
“You and me, both.”
Brogan knew that Owen was thinking of Ruby. He was worried they’d come for her again, but Brogan was pretty sure they had their sights set on someone else now. He looked over at Amy again. A protective instinct that he’d never felt before surged to life inside of him. She looked so small and helpless from over here. That fiery attitude of hers that had shown through despite her fear was endearing, but he knew that she needed him to keep her safe.
“It’s good that you have her somewhere safe. She might have valuable intel,” Owen said.
Brogan frowned. Amy was a person, not just a source of information for the fucking Irish mafia.
“She also needs our protection,” Brogan said, his voice sharp.
There was a brief pause before Owen responded, and Brogan was worried that he’d pissed the man off. Owen was the head of the mafia, and he expected to be shown respect. Brogan had never had a problem with that before, but he’d also never felt this urge to keep someone safe before.
He wasn’t an honorable man. He’d never been someone’s protector before. But something deep inside of him twisted painfully at the thought of letting Amy come to harm.
“You’re right,” Owen agreed. “We’ll make sure she’s safe.”
Owen was a man of his word, and Brogan unclenched the fist he hadn’t even realized he made. “We’ll lay low tonight. I lost the Italians, but I have no doubt that they will be looking for us on the streets. I’ll take her to the Water Street safe house in the morning.”
They ended the call, and Brogan started to head back to Amy, who was finishing off her wine, when a man in a blue suit stepped in front of him.
The Chancellor owned the sanctuary. No one knew the man’s real name, not even Brogan, and the two of them had history together. All Brogan really knew was that he was a former assassin.
And he owed Brogan. He’d been in a tight spot with a cartel back before he started this place, pinned down and outnumbered. Brogan helped him get out of that situation, and this was the perfect time to cash in on that favor.
“Who’s the girl?” The Chancellor asked. He never was one to beat around the bush.
“A friend in need of help.” There was no need to be specific. “And we could use a place to sleep tonight.”
The Chancellor grinned, and it was predatory. “Are you asking for me help?”
Brogan smirked and rolled his eyes. “Yes.”
The Chancellor clapped him on the shoulder. “You know I always pay my debts. I’m glad to finally have the chance to wipe the slate clean. I have a couple of rooms upstairs that my girls use. You can stay in one of those.”
