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Jack bit his lip in consternation. “Dove, you can’t even boil water.”
I unhinged my jaw, pretending to be insulted. Technically, he was wrong. I boiled water all the time to make ramen noodles.
Jack held his hands up in retreat, taking a seat on the bar stool nearest me. He interlaced his fingers on the island, looking down at the pan with a wince.
“Have a little faith,” I reproached, tending to the hot pan. The edges of the omelet were dark brown. I didn’t know if that was good or bad, but figured it was time to flip it. I held the pan above the blue flame and tossed the eggy mess into the air. Half of the burned omelet splatted onto the kitchen floor.
“Ah fuck, Emma, this is torture!” Jack whined, fisting the hair at his temples. “Please, for the love of God, let me make the damn food. You’re going to poison us.”
I pursed my lips. Poison was a high probability. I hadn’t thought about that. It was dangerous to eat raw eggs, right? Or was that just the chicken itself?
“Fine.” I sighed, rolling my eyes like I was doing him a favor. I supposed I was.
Jack jumped out of his seat and circled the counter. He put his hands on my hips and guided me out of the kitchen, a stern look on his face that said I was not to help him in any way.
“You’ll have to teach me to cook someday,” I said, taking the stool he’d vacated.
Jack chuckled, throwing the smoking pan into the sink and grabbing a fresh one. Fia was licking the runny egg from the floor, but Jack tapped him aside with his foot. It was for the best—I didn’t want to be responsible for killing his cat.
“There are some things even I can’t do,” he replied, smiling sardonically as he prepared our meal. Before I could respond with a comeback, he changed the subject. “What are your plans for the day?”
I hadn’t known whether Jack would want to stay in with me today. Optimistic, I’d left my schedule open, not that I had much to do besides paperwork at the restaurant. But, upon his question, I realized he would be busy. Our one night of peace was over.
“Shannon and Charlotte are getting released from the hospital soon,” I reminded him, watching the muscles between his shoulder blades tense when I mentioned their names. “I should check in and make sure they’re doing okay. Then I have some stuff to finish at Roisin’s.”
“How’s that going, by the way?” He loaded a huge pile of eggs onto his own plate before dishing a smaller amount on mine. He knew there was no way I could match his appetite. For food, at least.
“You mean laundering your dirty money?” I teased as he set the mushroom omelet in front of me. It smelled better than anything I’d eaten since Santorini, which happened to be the last time I’d experienced my boyfriend’s cooking.
Jack hummed, choosing to stand and eat at the island so he could face me. “Why do I feel like I’m a terrible influence on you?”
“Because you are,” I joked. “No one else could get me to break the law but you.”
A shadow eclipsed his features as I finished my sentence. I straightened on the barstool, the food heavy in my throat while Jack’s jaw twitched in aggravation. But, as quickly as it had appeared, the strange darkness was gone, a soft smile taking its place. What the hell was that about?
“I’ve got quite the schedule today,” he continued, donning the mask that hid his emotions. “I won’t be home until one or so. Will you be in bed when I return?”
One in the morning? I was used to Jack keeping long and strange hours, but I hadn’t thought he’d be jumping back on the horse so soon. He clearly wasn’t wasting any time trying to find the Babau. The pain in my stomach worsened. It was selfish of me, but I hoped Jack wouldn’t make any progress. If he did, Nicoletti was bound to push my hand.
“You okay, dove?” Jack asked, his hand warming my forearm. He’d taken note of my distress.
“Just be safe, all right?” I peered up at him in earnest. I didn’t want him going out into the city with Don Luca’s pet assassin lurking around. Even if the don had informed the Babau that Jack and I were off-limits, nothing was certain.
Jack leaned forward, planting a kiss on my cheek. “I always am.”
“And yes,” I added, trying to hide my concern. “I will be in bed when you get home.”
Jack’s smile almost snapped my heart in two. There was relief in that grin—like he wasn’t positive I’d come back. As if there were any other place I’d rather be.
* * * *
After careful consideration, I decided to get my work at Roisin’s done before visiting Shannon. It would be easier to complete before the Saturday lunch rush arrived. If the restaurant was slammed—as it always was, especially on the weekends—I would be guilted into waiting tables. By my own conscience, of course. My fellow employees knew I’d taken over Shannon’s role as manager and didn’t bother me when the door was closed.
The work was easy once I got the hang of it. Placing food orders with local vendors, handling our liquor account and making the schedule were the simple things. It was the laundering I paid close attention to. If it was slower than usual, I had to be careful how much I added to a ticket. I tracked the guest list for the previous days and pored through every tab to see where things could be altered. Despite it being a background job, I took pride in my new responsibility. Jack and Trevor Gallagher were trusting me not to draw suspicion, and I wouldn’t fail.
Altering the books was also a great way to take my mind off things. I’d always received stellar grades in mathematics, but I was first and foremost a reader. Keeping track of tickets and their changes, then funneling the correct amount of money into the till took my concentration away from nefarious thoughts.
Around four, I rode the private elevator up to the penthouse. Kieran had stopped by Roisin’s to say hello an hour prior. He’d just been to see Shannon and Charlotte, so I knew they were home from the hospital. The doors opened and I entered into the foyer.
