Alexis opened her mouth.
But Jacob answered, “Right.”
“Okay, so you have the three sketches I did for design. I’ll adjust them to add the towers. You talk them through with Bill, Zach and Tod, and give me notes. I’ll make any changes, and we’ll have finals. Then we’re a go,” I finished it.
“Want a beer?” Gabe asked Jacob from his spot in the open fridge.
“No, it’s date night,” Jacob replied.
Alexis beamed.
I beamed along with her.
Jacob wasn’t beaming, but he seemed a lot more chipper, so I knew how date night ended for them.
I also now knew how awesome date nights could be.
We said our goodbyes, including a hug and a “You’re the best, Willow” from Alexis, a longer, tighter squeeze than normal from Jacob, and they were out the door.
When I turned, I nearly ran into Gabe, he was standing that close to me.
I looked up at him, still beaming, but for a different reason this time.
“Well, what’s on your mind, hot stuff?” I teased.
“Not that, cupcake,” he said quietly. “Come sit down with me.”
I didn’t like his tone, and I didn’t like his look, one that registered belatedly.
So I didn’t hesitate in walking to the couch and sitting down with him, or on him, since he pulled me into his lap.
This felt nice, but I was beginning to freak due to his demeanor being freakout-worthy.
“Gabe, what’s going on?”
“Last night, William Dexter was found beside his bed, dead. On his knees, he took two bullets to the back of his head. Nothing was stolen. Nothing even disturbed. There’s no other way to look at it. That’s a hit.”
One could say that was so not a baseball bat to a kneecap.
“His two boys dropped off radar,” Gabe went on. “They’re probably dead too. Amy Small is AWOL. And Dillon Small was shivved in prison. He’ll survive, but it was bad, and the message was sent.”
I didn’t know what to think about this, though nothing good was coming to me.
“I guess those loan sharks don’t mess around,” I mumbled.
“Cupcake, that wasn’t loan sharks,” Gabe educated me. “Loan sharks can’t get paid if the people who owe them are dead.”
I stared at him, not comprehending.
He explained it to me.
Scarily.
“Word on the street is, Dimitri Alexeyev is not a fan of anyone messing with someone the Angels have under their protection.”
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
“And that word on the street is word because Alexeyev put it down on the street.”
