I chuckled. “It actually does. He kept eyeing the one allowed steak knife. Phoenix and I bet a thousand bucks that he was going to jump the table.”
“Awesome, gambling with my life, thanks. I’m so glad my boss thinks it’s funny that I almost died during dinner.”
Snorting, I waved him off. “Don’t be so dramatic—it was during dessert where he got really testy.”
Tank shook his head. “You’re all insane.”
“Thank you.” I moved the black folders around on my desk and pulled out Annie’s. “She seems to be thriving.”
“Thanks to your black credit card, I think any college girl would be thriving—did you see the shopping trip bills?”
I didn’t even blink. “I’m a billionaire; ask me if I care.”
“I’m a billionaire,” he mimicked in my voice, then winced. “Please don’t kill me.”
“I entertain the thought on a daily basis.”
“Good talk.” He groaned and wiped his hands down his face. “I already told the other bosses. I’m working on this whole bomb angle, but I’ve come up with nothing; the only lead goes back to her.”
I grabbed a pencil and started to tap. “Her as in…”
“Last time I said her name, you yelled and then broke a baseball bat over your knees, so I’m just going to say her.”
“She’s dead.” I pointed out. “And the bat was old.”
He held up his hands. “Whatever you say. And I know she’s dead, but her contacts clearly aren’t. The FBI believes that they’re using all of this white horse business as a scare tactic, and if they kill someone in the process awesome, it’s all smokescreens, a distraction in order to do something big.”
I thought about it for a minute then spoke. “I agree, but they’re also only targeting the second generation. Why?”
“I have a theory.” Tank lowered his voice. “You wiped out the second generation of the De Lange Family and then somehow sprouted a conscience out of your ass and saved the remaining kids. What if this is their way of doing the same to you guys? They don’t have the same resources but think about it. What would hurt you the most?”
I closed my eyes. “Losing our children.”
“Exactly.”
“Keep digging.” I stood. “And this conversation never leaves the room.”
“I remember,” he grumbled and then shot up to his feet like they were on fire and stalked out of the room, leaving me to again wonder how Phoenix did this.
So many secrets.
So many lies.
So little time until the dominoes fell.
I just hoped to God my son was strong enough to bear it.
Chapter Seven
The night has a thousand eyes. And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies. With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes. And the heart but one: Yet the light of a whole life dies. When love is done. —Francis Bourdillon
Annie
One Week Later, September
“I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.” I chanted this all through my morning routine as I put on my Eagle Elite Uniform—short navy skirt, knee-high socks, white blouse, and navy jacket.
I’d had zero sleep thanks to my encounter with Ash, and when I did close my eyes, I had nightmares of being locked in a cupboard—something he wouldn’t have known actually triggered me but telling him that would be like telling a kidnapper your address.
He’d use it against me.
And I’d cry myself to sleep like I used to.
Ugh.
I grabbed my satchel and hurried down the stairs, nearly bumping into Ash as he held out a plate full of eggs, bacon, and toast.
With a wink, he leaned in and whispered, “Gluten-free.”
My eyes narrowed. “You on pills again?”
He scowled. “Can’t I make our houseguest breakfast?”
I sniffed the plate. “Did you poison it?”
“Please.” He rolled his eyes. “If I wanted to poison you, I’d use the—”
“The scary needle dart, already had this convo several times with multiple people I don’t need a recap.”
His eyes flickered to my mouth as he said. “Actually, I was going to go with the whole tasteless powder in your OJ, but the needle works too. All good options, all good options.” He handed me the plate then reached for a glass filled to the brim with OJ. “Thirsty?”
I shook my head. “I like you better angry at least then I know what to expect. When you’re happy, I think you’re either high or ready to kill me.”
“That’s confusing.” He frowned. “So when I’m mean you feel safer, when I’m nice you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop?”
My stomach growled as I eyed the plate in my hands. “M-maybe.”
“Annie.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “Just eat the damn peace offering.”
“I don’t trust any offering from you.” My stomach rumbled again. I was so starving that I was ready to eat the plate along with the food.
One of Ash’s eyebrows arched as he reached for the bacon and held it in front of my mouth. “Bite it, or I’ll bite you.”
“That’s—”
He shoved the bacon in my mouth the minute my lips parted. It was crispy and hot against my tongue. How did I not know he cooked? Oh right, because he’d only ever kissed me, almost had sex with me, yelled at me, and then traumatized me.
I literally knew nothing else about him other than he had anger issues and liked to kill God’s creatures.
“So?” He rocked back on his feet, his smile triumphant. “How’s it taste?”
I chewed and then shrugged. “Not sure yet.” I opened my mouth and pointed.
He actually smiled, not a smug I’m going to terrorize you later smile, but one that felt genuine, that had warmth spreading from my head all the way down to my toes as he moved closer, the plate still between us, grabbed another piece and held it in front of my mouth.
I leaned in and bit down, only to have him replace his fingers with his mouth as he tugged the bacon toward him.
One more centimeter, and we’d be kissing.
It was another mind game.
A trick.
But it was also bacon, so I held on for dear life.
Never thought I’d be playing chicken with Ash in the kitchen using bacon as our weapon, but then again, the mafia was a strange, strange world, so why not?
He inched his mouth forward, his eyes locked on mine in amusement like he knew I was starting to sweat.
I gave a hard tug with my teeth and his lips pressed against mine briefly before I jerked my head away, taking most of the bacon with me in triumph.
“Winner, winner, bacon dinner?” He didn’t take his eyes off my mouth.
I kept chewing. “Are you sure you’re not on something?”
He snorted and rolled his eyes, taking the plate with him and setting it on the breakfast bar.
I will not stare at his ass in those trousers.
I will not stare at his biceps in that ridiculous Eagle Elite sweater vest.
I will not imagine eating bacon off his eight pack.
“Why are your eyes closed?” Ash asked a few seconds later.