A gust rattles the car, shaking loose a few flakes from the windshield wipers. The world suddenly feels too small. I may very well acquire Dandelion, but there’s bad news along with the good. The Irish alliance is all but broken. Peter is circling—my meeting with him the other night made it clear he’s thinking more about war than an early retirement.
I slip my hands into my coat pockets, and my left thumb catches on a tear in the lining—a tiny rip, threadbare from years of use. The sort of flaw you don’t notice until the cold finds its way through.
“What now?” Bogdan asks.
“We endure. As we’ve always done.”
My mind flits back to the other night, the night when I had the fight with Gabriella, when I let my anger get the better of me and hurled the glass against the wall. The fear in her eyes, and the realization that the fear was of me, is not something I’ll soon forget.
My duty is to protect her. And if I’m going to fulfill that duty, she can’tthink me a monster.
Hard times are coming. Their approach is like a dull ache in my bones.
Gabriella needs to learn to trust me as her protector, and I need to earn that trust.
Because I have a damn good feeling she’s going to need all the protection I can muster in the days ahead.
CHAPTER 28
GABBY
“Enjoying the ambiance?” Bogdan asks.
It’s late afternoon at the Marigold, one of those swanky-ish cocktail bars with brass accents and wood tables. Piano jazz leaks from hidden speakers, and the scent of roasted garlic is in the air. Men and women in suits cluster near the bar, talking shop.
“It’s nice, I suppose, if you’re into this kind of thing. I’m more a cozy-night-at-home kind of gal.”
“I like it. It’s classy. And more importantly, it’s got one entrance.” He nods toward the front of the place. The only way in or out is a very visible little hallway that leads to the front door. And windows are few and far between—I can see why Bogdan picked this place.
I’m a little nervous to be out in public like this, but more than anything, I’m happy to see my friend.
“Thanks, Bogdan,” I say. “This really means a lot.”
He gives a small, slow nod. “Remember, this is all in service of the main job—keeping you safe, and don’t think we’re going to be making a habit out of this.”
I reply with a cheeky salute. “You’re a real pal.”
He grumbles in response. Soon, Angie sweeps in. Her wool coat is half open, scarf trailing, her fair cheeks pink from the cold. I wave, and she spots me right away, a big smile splitting her face as she shuffles over.
“Oh my God!” she says, pulling me into a big hug as I stand. “I can’t believe this is actually happening!”
“I know, right?”
We let go, sliding into the booth.
“We can thank this guy here for arranging it.” I nod toward Bogdan.
“Thank yousomuch,” Angie says. “I was going a little crazy without seeing this lady.”
“My pleasure, I think.”
The server appears seconds later, all Chicago-cool, poise, and charm—tattoos curling around her forearm, nose ring catching the light, but her voice is smooth and practiced.
“Something to drink?”
Before I can answer, Angie’s already handing it. “She’ll have a mocktail,” she says, the drink menu in front of her face. “Something citrusy and sweet. And one for him, too,” she says, gesturing toward Bogdan.
Bogdan’s brow arches in mild surprise. “I don’t?—”
