“I don’t understand.”
A sigh as she sets the envelope on the counter. “I’m supposed to use the distraction they created by taking her to eliminate the problem you present.”
Fear skitters up my spine.
“But I’ve been doing a lot of things I shouldn’t these last few months. That—” A nod to the envelope. “That will damage them enough they’ll need to close ranks and regroup.”
“How long until they come after me and Brooks and my friends again?”
“They’ll decide it’s not worth the trouble. There are plenty of easier targets with fewer resources now that the personal side has been settled.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t expect you to,” she says. “But I’m doing what I can—I made it so Brooks is back in your life and Chrissy’s baby will be safe—” She breaks off.
My heart starts pounding. “What does Chrissy have to do with me?”
Something passes over her face and I suck in a breath.
“Wait,” I whisper, the information clicking into place. “You’rethatAngela?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re Angela Rosseau? Jean-Michel’s ex, Chrissy’s mom—” I shake my head. “But you’re crazy.”
She jerks and I clamp my mouth closed.
Probably shouldn’t call the woman pointing a gun at me crazy.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
But she doesn’t squeeze the trigger and prove that point. Instead, she laughs softly. “Yeah, Briar. I’m definitely crazy.”
“Meow.”
“Buttercup,” I begin. “She?—”
But Angela just tucks the gun into the waistband of her jeans, crouches down and scratches Buttercup—then Tulip, when she comes over—behind their ears.
“How did you make sure Brooks was back in my life?”
Her gaze comes to mine and I wish I could see through the dark lenses of her glasses. “He’s one of the good ones.” A sigh as she straightens. “There aren’t too many of those around. I needed to make it right—for both of you.”
“I’m just?—”
“One of the good ones too,” she says softly.
“I don’t understand.”
“I know.” Another nod to the envelope. “Use it,” she says. “No matter how much you don’t want to.”
She turns toward the door and I find myself blurting, “They can help you—Pascal and Brooks.”
Still. God, she’s so freakingstill.
Then she pushes her glasses to the top of her head and our gazes collide.
Fuck, that bruise around her eye is awful.
