I look away from the tree and down into her in surprise. “Space?”
“Space,” she says confirms. “You and I need to have a talk.” She leads me slowly away from the tree, although I can’t help looking back anxiously. A glimpse of Finch’s gilded hair among the green leaves reassures me, so I give her my attention. She puts her arm through mine, and walks me slowly across the path towards the back wall. “You’re a very powerful man,” she says, smiling up at me. “It makes me happy to know that Howie is so safe with you.”
“I wish I shared your confidence.”
“You should. How many times now have you saved him? And not only from would-be assassins, either. You saved Howie from himself. For that, you will always have my gratitude.” Her smile dies away, replaced by a serious stare. “However,” she says.
Shit. I know that tone. Finch gets it sometimes when he’s about to say something I don’t want to hear.
“As Howie reminded you at the breakfast table, this ismytown, Don Morelli.Myhome.MyFamily.”
I give a little shrug, unsure what she means, unsure why she’s addressing me with my title instead of my name. I can’t recall a time she’s ever not used my given name.
“You need to stop throwing your weight around,” she says bluntly. “Acting like—like some emperor visiting the far-flung regions of his own lands. I’m your ally, not your vassal. I have responsibilities and I have difficult choices to make, just like you. Your attitude is particularly unhelpful at the moment and, frankly, it’s rude.”
I let out a surprised laugh, but she remains unmoved. “Tara,” I say at last, “that’s not at all what I’ve—”
“Oh, yes it is. At least do me the courtesy of recognizing your own behavior.”
I want to deny it, to demand examples, to laugh it off, but the truth is…
The truth is, Idoknow what she means. And Tara Donovan is not some innocent young girl these days, for all her charm. She’s the matriarch of a Family much larger and older than my own, with even more complex politics, I have no doubt.
So I nod, and I look across to the shaking tree, where my darling husband is risking life and limb just so his sister can give me a dressing-down. “I apologize if you feel I’ve undermined you, or if you think I’ve been disrespectful.”
“It’s not a matter of myfeelingthat way. Youhave doneboth those things.”
She’s really not going to let me get away with anything less than a real apology. And nor should she. I give a rueful smile. “I apologize for undermining you and disrespecting you.”
“Thank you.”
She stands against the wall, leaning her back up against it, and I do the same, letting the already-warming bricks comfort my back and ease some of my aches. “We do things a little differently in my world,” I say after a few moments, “but I’ll try to remember that your ways are not ours.”
“Honor and respect are just as important to us,” she says, but then concedes, “It must be difficult dealing with the prejudices you face.”
“Less so these days. If anything, it helped me when I first ascended to have my enemies make foolish assumptions about me. They underestimate me less these days, unfortunately. Finch couldn’t think of anything the IFF might be looking for, by the way,” I add.
Judging by the shivering of the tree branches, Finch is making his way down. By the time we get there, he’s hanging by his knees from the lowest branch, grinning at me upside down as his face gradually turns redder.
“See?” he says proudly. “Up and down. No broken bones.” He swings off the branch in a somersault, landing with a solid thump. “Ta-da!”
“Very entertaining,” I say.
“Mom would be proud,” Tara says, and she and Finch share a soft, slightly-painful smile.
“I hope so,” he says to her. “She’d definitely be proud ofyou. You remind me a lot of her, sometimes.”
Tara’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh,” she says, as she mulls it over. “Thank you,” she says at last. “I think.”
“I meant it as a compliment,” Finch assures her as we wander back to the house. “Promise.”
Tara slings an arm around his waist and they give each other a side-hug.
“Okay,” he says, turning to me once we get inside. “Now it’s time to get you clean, baby.”
The wicked look in his eye is a promise I intend to make sure he keeps.
Chapter Thirty
