I smile as I listen to my dad speak about my girl.
“She could have anyone she wanted,” Dad continues. “She doesn’t need to move in with a man who doesn’t respect her enough to want to marry her.”
“Dad, we are not getting married.” A breath tears out of me before I add, “Yet."
I have never half-assed anything in my life. Something animalistic rears in my head at the thought of Isolde wearing a ring I put on her finger.
She’s mine.
The noise Dad makes under his breath is a touch more approving. “I’ll let you know about the house. The realtor expects several offers.”
“Thanks, Dad. I love you.”
“Same, Tristan, same.”
There’s something lighter in my step after getting off the phone with him. During the years I worked for the Irish and then as the Ghost, I’d stopped talking about so many things with my dad. I realize how much I’ve missed him.
Call it a sign from God, but I pass a cathedral and debate going in to light a candle. I could light one for my mom, knowing she’d love that.
Instead I answer when Luis calls, not expecting his crush of words. “There’s been an attempt on Blue, gunshot wound, we’re taking her to a safe house now. I’ve already called Tyler.”
Tyler beats me to the safe house in Queens.
Standing next to him is an Irish bastard I thought I’d never see again.
“What the fuck?” I fist my hand in Ian Hayes's shirt, pushing him into the back of the couch.
“Woah, woah, woah, cuz.” Luis appears at my side, trying to tug me away from the Irish guy.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, aware of the adrenaline coursing through me since I answered Luis’s phone call. I don’t particularly care if it makes me look like an asshole in front of Ian.
Ian raises his arms in surrender. I let go, and he crashes back into the sofa, letting out an aggrieved sigh.
He speaks in his typical slow drawl. Unless he’s drunk on his ass in a pub and singing a song, all his movements are lazy.
“What the hell happened?” I round on my cousin, grabbing his shirt this time.
Terror flashes across his face, and I let go. He steps back, placing a hand directly over the spot I just grabbed him.
“Isolde’s fine,” Tyler says, inserting himself between me and my cousin. “One gunshot wound, through and through. No major damage to any organs.”
“What else?” I don’t need Tyler to sugarcoat it right now.
Tyler’s mouth opens and closes like he’s debating what he wants to say. “A broken nose. It looks worse than it is.”
“Who the fuck broke her nose?”
Tyler shoots me a look, eyeing the door he just came out of. Pangs of nerves run down me, and I steady my breathing. Isolde doesn’t need a fire-breathing dragon right now. When I step into that room, she needs peace and healing.
Peace and healing.
My fists clench, every nerve ending in me crackling, as I stifle the urge to throttle everything around me.
There’s a snap. A click. Ian plays with a lighter in his hand. “Guy walks up to her in an alleyway. She went willingly with him.”
I frown at Luis.
“I get a text from Blue saying she spotted a target and was going to make a move,” Luis explains. “It seemed off, so I went outside, and that’s when I found Ian.”
