She lifted a brow.
Yeah, no.
That shit wasn’t happening.
Her team was allowed to run however they needed, since most of them worked ninety-hour weeks. If they didn’t start until after eight, there was a reason. They likely worked late, taking care of a case.
No one should be busting their balls since she didn’t bust balls.
As far as she was concerned, they closed their cases, and that was the bottom line.
How they did it was up to them.
When they did it was up to them.
The last thing anyone needed was the boss so far up their asses when they yawned, they could see them.
PASS.
Axelle was now infringing on her territory, and they had a hands-off policy when it came to her division. That was her job to police them, and not Axelle’s.
No one browbeat the minions but her.
PERIOD.
“I’ll make time to speak to her as soon as I get a chance. What’s next?” she asked, as Ian continued to play office manager for her.
He slipped her a file and kept his voice low.
“We handled Riley Cunningham,” he said. “By we, I mean the FBI. He’s been arrested by the Scottish police, and their intelligence agency is treating it very seriously.”
Good.
They should.
The man tried to get someone offed.
That was insane.
Ian continued.
“Him threatening to kill Graham wasn’t amusing for them. You know how much Europe loves a rogue American with a weapon, even if it’s a knife. He’s all over the media there, and while the Americans look bad, again, he’s not having a good time there.”
Oh, she knew what he meant by that.
They’d wanted to not make it an international spectacle, but in all honesty, spectacle was her middle name. Riley besmirched her family, and tried to hurt Michael.
Saint Michael of the Blackhawks might be living in Scotland, but he was family.
Until.
Death.
She loved her some Archangels.
So, she hadn’t been playing when she pointed the dogs at Riley. All it took was a phone call to a friend of a friend in Europe, and the deed was done.
Riley was going to be made to understand the seriousness of his actions—one way or another.
