Everyone sat back down.
Cam looked pointedly at my empty seat.
Still didn’t sit in it.
He shrugged. “Probably just as well. We need to talk about Viktor. Anyone who doesn’t want in on that conversation, this is your cue.”
Decoy rose without hesitation.
To my surprise, so did Rubi.
Folk stayed.
Nash too.
Me? I hesitated. I didn’t give a fuck about a missing Russian mobster, but I gave more than one about Ranger, who was in the wind looking for him with some other fuckin’ lunatic I didn’t care about. If Cam had news on that, I wanted to hear it.
On the other hand, I’d made a promise to my kids that I’d be around more, and that meant not getting locked up for aiding and abetting whatever gangster shit was about to come out of Cam’s mouth.
“Is okay, Mishka.” Alexei came to my rescue. “There is nothing that you need to hear.”
Good enough for me. I pushed off the wall and pinched Hope back from Saint. She hadn’t made a sound while she’d been with him, but she laughed as I reclaimed her and I caught Mateo’s eye. “We’ll be in the bar unless Juana says otherwise. Come on, missus.”
I followed Decoy and Rubi out.
Decoy disappeared across the yard to where Orla was still safe and sound with River.
Rubi came with me.
“I’m not doing yoga with you.” I held Hope between us, using her tiny body as a shield. “That fuckin’ hurt last time.”
Rubi hooted a laugh. “That means you need to do it more.”
“It means I’m not built for that shite.”
Rubi made a disapproving sound but made no move to unroll the mat he kept stashed behind the bar. Instead, he sat beside me on a stool, keeping Hope entertained until she fell asleep on me.
“Ah, look at that.” Rubi grinned over the top of a juice bottle. “I can see why Nash wets himself over you.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Don’t swear at the baby.”
“I’m swearing at you.” Cos I could. Rubi was the friendliest giant I knew. He was also one of Nash’s closest friends, and he’d known Orla her entire life. He knew them better than anyone, and he’d been on my case about whatever the fuck he saw between us for months now.
Most days I ignored it.
Others I shut it down.
Today I barely noticed and set my phone on the bar, drumming my fingers. “How long do driving tests take?”
“Dunno. Let’s google it.” Rubi tapped at his phone. “Forty minutes. Take a breath, brother. She’ll be fine.”
I knew that, butdriving,man. It was such a big part of my life, but the thought of my kid on the road did strange things to me. “Fuck, if she passes, I’ve got to buy her a car.”
“She expecting one?”
“From me? Doubt it, but her mum doesn’t know shit about engines, and she married a sociology teacher.”
