Oh. It finally clicked. “You’ll be fine today. You’re not in any real danger until tomorrow.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “And you know this how?”
I could hardly tell him that El could see people’s intentions—though only if they were specific. “We’ve constructed a possible timeline for when Carlo will have figured out your identity.”
His eyes narrowed. “When?”
“Huh?”
“When did you create that timeline? You’ve been with me since the moment I told you. And I’m still confused how you could know all that without asking me for details.”
Fuck, he kept picking up on inconsistencies. Maybe this was why Gabriel wanted us to run a scenario check before each mission. He’d created endless checklists we were supposed to use to make sure we didn’t forget anything. That our story didn’t have holes in it, and that we’d dotted all ourIs and crossed all ourTs. Hell no. I’d taken one good look at those checklists and decided it would be a cold day in hell before I used them.
“Right. I, erm, did that while you were…” My brain was racing. When had I been alone? Oh wait… “While you were sleeping. I stayed up and woke up way before you, remember? So I had a call with my boss, and we came up with a timeline together.”
I mentally crossed my fingers he would buy that story, and Christ on a bike, when had I become the type to hope and pray over whether someone believed my bullshit? Funny thing was, I’d never cared much about lying to my protectees before. Hell, I’d spun elaborate tales without a second thought, told whatever story would make my job easier. Their opinion of me had been about as important as what I’d had for breakfast three centuries ago—completely irrelevant to getting the job done.
But with Charles, I did care. I cared a bloody lot, and that realization was more unsettling than I wanted to admit. The thought of his displeasure, or far worse, his disapproval of me, sat like a stone in my stomach, heavy and uncomfortable and refusing to be ignored. I didn’t want to see that trust in his blue eyes turn to suspicion, didn’t want him looking at me like I was another lying bastard who’d disappointed him. He’d had enough of those in his life already.
When had this sweet baker become so important to me that the idea of losing his good opinion actually made me feel sick? When had I started caring more about what Charles Garrity thought of me than about following protocol or keeping things simple?
And more importantly, what the fuck was I supposed to do about it?
Charles’s expression relaxed. “Oh, okay. That makes sense. Yeah, you did tell me you don’t need much sleep.”
Sweet relief filled me. “Exactly.”
“So we’re still good today?To go out, I mean?”
“Yes, but you’ll be good tomorrow as well. I’m not gonna lock you up in your house, darling.”
“What on god’s green Earth are you talking about?” Dani asked, her hands on her hips. “Why would you want to lock Charles up? Why wouldn’t he be allowed to go somewhere? Just what kind of controlling asshole are you?”
Fuck. I’d completely forgotten about Dani’s presence. And judging by the way Charles whipped around, his eyes wide, so had he. She was his employee, however, so I’d leave this one to him to explain. Charles wrung his hands, looking at me as if expecting me to answer. Nope, he was on his own for this one.
“We, erm… It’s part of a…” I could practically see Charles’s brain spin, trying to come up with something that sounded at least halfway plausible. “…of a game,” he said. “Yes, a game. Eamon and I have signed up for an online game together, and it starts tomorrow.”
Dani stared at him as if he’d proposed marriage to her, and honestly, I couldn’t blame her. Gabe had told me I sucked at lying, but clearly, Charles was even worse at it than I was.
“A game,” Dani repeated, incredulity lacing her voice. “An online game. You, who had to be talked into setting up social media accounts because you hated being online so much…”
Charles looked like he was being tortured, his pained expression tugging at my heartstrings enough that I came to his rescue. “I suggested it. I read about it on the internet, and it sounded like fun.”
Dani stared at me for a few seconds, then sighed. “Whatever. Just remember that he doesn’t like to post his face online.”
She was sweet to look out for him like that, and so I nodded. “Duly noted.”
I held out my hand to Charles, who looked like a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Ready to go, sweetheart?”
He took my hand like a drowning man would reach for a life buoy. “Yes. Very ready.”
We hightailed it out of his bakery, and once we were out of sight, he slumped, standing still. “That was awful.”
“You mean your ability to lie? Yes, that was awful. You’ll have to work on that.”
“Work on that? I don’t want to become good at lying to my friends. Not a skill I’d be proud to acquire.”
“She’s your employee, not your friend.”
