“Son, go home.” Da puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll get in touch with Don Giovanni Toscano. He’s just as concerned about this shite getting loose as we are.”
“I’ll stay. There are more families to contact, there must be a way to run a location sweep on-”
Da pulls me out into the corridor. “Hear me out. Our clan has faced worse than this. Ya can spend every waking moment tryin’ to stop it. However, Iknowlife is short. The only thing I regret isnot spending more time with your Mum. Go home to your wife. Take her out to dinner. Get to know each other.”
He’s lookin’ me over with an uncomfortable thoroughness. When I was a lad, it meant he knew exactly what mischief I’d been up to. “She dinna know MacTavishes marry for life yet, does she?”
“There hasn’t been a right time to bring this up, Da.”
“Nor the news about Collin Harris?” he persists.
I look away. “No.”
“Go. Spend time with Luna. Let her know she has ya, and she has our family.” He chuckles. “There’s not a soul in Scotland who can say no to ya when you’re at your most charming. It got ya out of more than one punishment as a bairn.”
“Eh, I still recall a long list of ‘em,” I grumble, but he’s right.
“I’ll call ya when we know more,” he says. “And we will. Georges and Xenia are very thorough.”
“Dinna talk about that dangleberry. I’m still of a mind to stab him.”
“Go!” Da calls, walking back down the hall. “And dinna ya get all stabby ‘till there’s a good reason for it.”
The sun is rising over the city as I drive away from the warehouse, and because the Universe decides it’s time to test me, Collin Feckin’ Harris calls.
“I want to meet my granddaughter, MacTavish.” The man may be in his late sixties, but he’s a fierce son of a bitch. As an enforcer, he dinna make a threat unless he intends to follow it through.
“At the wedding,” I repeat, the way I have the last four times he’s called. “We’ll schedule some time beforehand where you two can meet and talk.”
“I have yet to receive a wedding invitation,” he snaps. “When do you intend to set the date for this overblown nonsense?”
“We’re under a bit of a threat at the moment.” I’m trying to keep my temper, but I’m tired, and his demands are getting more aggressive with each phone call. “If you’re concerned about your granddaughter, you’ll have a care for her state of mind. She’s seen shite that would break a weaker person.”
“Her mother was like that.” His voice is warmer. “Patricia was a little thing, like Luna. But she was a scrapper, and she could punch above her weight class.”
Smiling a bit unwillingly, I admit, “That does sound like Luna.”
There’s a long sigh and silence, long enough that I’m thinking the call dropped.
“Call me tonight, MacTavish. Tell me you have a time scheduled to meet my granddaughter, or I’ll handle it myself.”
Ending the call without another word, I throw my phone onto the passenger seat. My window of opportunity to come clean with my bride is closing.
I still dinna know how to tell her. Once the words are said, I canna take them back. They’ll change everything she knows about herself. It could change everything she feels about us.
Ghalla - Scottish slang for a spoiled bitch
Dangleberry - Scottish slang for a piece of stool attached to a hairy bum.
Chapter Thirty
In which it is Date Night.
Luna…
“What is this place again?” Kai’s taking me out to dinner.
I found another beautiful dress on the bed this afternoon, this one black, short, and cut low. Not scandalously low, but enough for him to leer at my breasts, the incorrigible pervert.
