In the hallway, Halston pulled him to a stop. “Donskoy is tied to the Russian businessman, Dmitri Petrov, who’s connected to the ambassador,” she said. “I need to know what they’re up to.”
“The papers I took from the house might give you answers.”
She hugged him. “You were right. This is war.”
“You gotta take it easy, Il mio angelo.”My angel.
“I’m out for blood,” she said. “Theirs.”
Together, they returned to the kitchen.
Halston sat at the table, guzzled more water before taking a bite of egg. “Thank you for helping me.” With tears in her eyes, she said to them, “I’ve been on my own for so long… I couldn’t have gotten through this without you… all of you.”
“We got you,” Gabriel said.
For the first time in his life, he had something bigger than himself to live for. Bigger than his massive empire of businesses. Even bigger than being Boss of Cosa Nostra. He had a woman he cared about, a woman he wanted to protect and keep safe. He wasn’t just spouting empty words when he called her his queen.
She was.
And he’d just proven the lengths he would go to show her he meant it.
As they locked eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder how much more danger they would be forced to face.
Of one thing he was certain… they would face it together.
15
GETTING CLOSER
HALSTON
Halston’s head was fuzzy, but she was doing her best to push through. If she thought about whatcouldhave happened, she’d lose it. So, she forced herself to focus on one small task at a time. When she’d gotten through that, she’d home in on the next.
She was seated at the kitchen table, Sydney by her side. The toast with jam helped settle her stomach, the eggs filled her up, the herbal tea soothed her angry, angry soul.
Gabriel sat across from her, he and Teddy laser-focused on Teddy’s laptop.
When finished, Halston got up to clear her plate. Gabriel was by her side in an instant, taking the dish from her.
“Do you want to sleep?” Sydney asked.
“I don’t want to impose,” Halston replied.
“You’re staying,” Teddy said. “G too.”
Relief flooded her. “That would be great. I’d love that.” She eyed Gabriel. “You’re not leaving me, are you?”
“No, I’m not,” he replied.
She glanced at the papers on the kitchen table. “Gabriel, are those what you took?”
“Yes.” He placed a comforting hand on her upper back and caressed it. “How are you feeling?”
“Less nauseous, but too keyed up to sleep. Can I see those?” She eased down at the table. He sat beside her, pulled the pile over.
Everything—even the map of the US—was in Russian, and she took her time with each of them. A hand-written receipt for van rentals, a map of the United States, and a schedule. On the top of the schedule was the date Yanvar' 15. It had been crossed out, replaced with Yanvar' 8.
“This is what Dmitri Petrov had mentioned to the ambassador,” she said as she skimmed the hand-written document. “The event on January 15thhas been changed to the 8th.”
