My Nana didn’t just “work for the government.” She survived it.
“Lexie?” she asks. “Why are you here? It’s not Tuesday, Sweet Pea.”
I shuffle my weight, probably looking like I’ve just witnessed a murder. Or committed one. “I…just needed to see you.”
“Bull, Sweet Pea.” She sets aside her glasses. “You’re flustered, your hair’s a bird’s nest, and you’re still in work clothes. Start talking.”
I cross the space, sit in the chair next to her, and take her hand, her skin cool and papery. “Remember after Mom died? And we promised to always be honest, no matter how bad?”
Nana doesn’t move. That’s worse. “For heaven’s sake, Lexie, just spit it out.”
I take one massive, lung-shattering breath and spill my guts.
“So there was this rain, and my car broke down, and I saw these men in black hoodies beating this guy, and I hid—but then, I had to help him. And he’s all like ‘no hospital,’ and he pulls a gun on me, so I took him home and stitched him up, and he’s hot but also terrifying, and then these scary guys came to the shop asking questions, and I went home, and he made me dinner!”
One more desperate breath.
“He organized my books, Nana! He cleaned my snow globes, and we ate dinner, and then I drugged his tea because I found out he’s the head of the Irish underworld, and now he’s handcuffed to my radiator!”
Silence. She blinks once. Twice. Churchill jumps down from the shelf and weaves through my legs.
Nana sets her glasses down carefully. “Liam Donovan.”
I nod.
“He made you dinner?”
I nod again. “Irish soda bread, potato pancakes, and bacon.”
“And he cleaned your apartment?”
Another nod.
She folds her hands in her lap. Composed. Almost…amused. “So, cleaning, cooking, and he said you were his savior, and he owed you a debt. Andthen,you drugged him?”
I bury my face in my hands, the utter stupidity hitting me. “What am I going to do? He’s going to kill me, Nana. Or put my head on a pike outside his Irish castle or whatever they do.”
I peek through my fingers.
Something warm and dangerous curves Nana’s mouth. As if I’ve given her the highlight of her year.
She tips her head back and laughs, loud enough to send Churchill hissing for the kitchen. “Good God Almighty, Elexia Claire Carter. You have gotten yourself into quite the pickle.”
I jerk upright. “It’s not funny! What do I do?!”
Nana grips my hand. Firm. Unyielding. “You’re going to go home. You’re going to wait for him to wake up. And you will apologize for drugging him.”
My jaw drops. “Apologize?!”
“You will go about your routine.” Her smile turns sharp and knowing. “I will reach out to my contacts for next steps.”
“What contacts? Are you calling the FBI? Or the Avengers?”
Nana taps my nose. “You know better than to ask, Sweet Pea.”
“But what about the gun?”
She straightens, expression turning granite-hard. “Liam Donovan is many things, Elexia. Most importantly, he is a man of his word. If he said he owes you a debt, and he has no wish to harm you? It’s true. Donovans are violent and ruthless—but they do not break a blood debt.”
