She inclines her head. “Touche.” Nods at the laptop. “Well?”
I grind my teeth. This is a mistake, but I want to share it with someone.
“I think the mob is using this center to do… something.” I sigh. “Before the attack, I noticed the real lowlifes in the Family, the Ricos and the others like him, talking about it. Little comments here and there, snide looks, like they were involved in some big joke. When I mentioned it to the Don, he got pissed. Too pissed. Suspiciously pissed. I swung by one evening and saw how heavily it was guarded. That made me certain something was going on. Something the lowlifes and the Don didn’t want the rest of the Family to learn about.”
“What is it?” Celine asks.
“No clue,” I grunt. “The next day, I was jumped. Guns and knives from the shadows. Now I’m here. If I go back there and someone sees me, the game is up. They’ll know I’m not dead.”
I don’t mention the fact that I’d been planning on informing my contact in the FBI. Thomas keeps a low profile.Only contact me if you have something concrete…
Celine places her hot cocoa on the table, sits up straight. She looks beautiful and powerful. “I can check it out.”
I slam the laptop shut so hard I’ve probably broken it. “No.”
“If something bad is happ?—”
She cuts off when I leap to my feet and walk across the room. Loom over her like I’m still the Beast and she hasn’t caught a glimpse of goodness in me.
“No,” I repeat, firmer. “You’re too involved already. Get that out of your head.”
For a second, I think I’ve won. Then she stands. Her curvy body bounces. Bravery paints her beautiful features. Pride expands in my chest, tugs at parts of me that should’ve died a long time ago. Every moment with her is a goddamn resurrection.
“I can use a different name, pretend I’m a gambling addict, and have a look around.”
I take her hand, gliding my thumb over her knuckle. She’s hot to the touch. “No, Celine. That’s final. If you push me on this, I’ll be forced to make sure you don’t go anywhere until this is over.”
She stares at me for a few moments. Solid, unflinching. Then sighs. “Whatever. It was just a thought.”
She drops onto the couch, sulking.
I return to the coffee table and open the laptop. A few of the keys have come loose from where I closed it too hard. Luckily, it still seems functional.
For several minutes, we sit in awkward silence. I’ve done the right thing in warning her away. She has no place in this world. Somehow, I still feel bad about it.
“What do people do that makes Christmas so special, anyway?”
She tries to hide her excitement behind her cup. Fails big time. “Nice try. Gold star for the change of subject.”
“I’m curious.”
“You’ve had your Grinch heart-expanding moment then?”
I gesture to the decorations. “All this merriment has got me thinking of adding some more.”
She gives me a sassy eye roll that makes me want to spank her into submission. “Sure you do.”
“I mean it. Tell me.”
She shrugs. “Lots of things. Sometimes, Mom and I make snowflakes out of paper and hang them all over the house. There’s an art to it–a science. We won’t get to do it this year.”
“Hopefully by Christmas Day you and your fam?—”
“They’re having Christmas abroad this year. It’s got nothing to do with all this stuff.”
Oh.
She looks sad about that.
