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In the kitchen, I leaned against the cool granite of the kitchen island, my gaze fixed on the array of half-empty wine glasses and stack of dirty dishes. Carter had apparently managed to use every pan we owned in the pursuit of dinner.
The penthouse held the echo of laughter from the living room, where the rest of our unlikely family had migrated. In this moment, it was just Greyson and me, the tension between us hanging in the air.
“The housekeeper comes in tomorrow,” I said, shrugging.
Greyson shook his head. “And what precautions are you taking after having someone else in Kennedy’s home?”
I didn’t argue with him about whose house it was. The minute Kennedy walked into our home, it was hers.
“Velasco and Borovsky won’t stop until they get what they want,” Greyson stated flatly, his voice low and dangerous. “And theywantKennedy.”
“Borovsky is still holed up in the distillery?”
Greyson nodded.
“Is he hiding from you or someone else?”
“Word on the street is he and Velasco are on the outs. I’m really curious what put a crack in that friendship.”
“Maybe we should go ask him,” I suggested.
Greyson’s lips smirked in a faint smile of approval.
For all our differences, this protectiveness over Kennedy was a shared connection that neither of us could deny.
The shrill ring of a phone shattered the quiet understanding between us. Greyson drew his cell from his pocket with a swift motion, his expression morphing into one of steely anticipation. “Yes?”
He paced the confines of the kitchen with a predator’s stride as he listened. Every terse word he uttered tightened the coil of unease in my gut.
“When?” A pause. “No, don’t engage. Keep your eyes on him.” He glanced at me, his blue eyes flashing.
“Understood.” His hand squeezed the phone, knuckles whitening. With a decisive click, he ended the call and faced me, a predator ready to strike. “Velasco’s been spotted heading toward the distillery on the east side. Want to go…observe?”
My heart hammered against my ribs with sudden adrenaline. Greyson had the look of a man who intended to get his hands bloody tonight. But Kennedy would want to go with us if this were anything but a simple observation mission.
The urgency to protect Kennedy pulsed through me like an electric current. “Seems convenient. Could this be a trap?”
“It’s possible,” he conceded, his eyes hard as flint. “But it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
He paused, glancing toward the doorway. “Not Kennedy, though. She stays put.”
“Agreed.”
“Coming with me?” Greyson leaned against the island, his arms crossed over his chest, which pulled at his jacket and revealed the shape of the gun hidden beneath.
Rolling my shoulders back, I shot him a wry grin. “Oh, Greyson, we’re still BFF’s deep down. I wouldn’t miss it.”
When we stepped into the living room, the soft glow of the lamps cast a warm aura around Kennedy, who nestled comfortably between Jack and Carter on the plush leather couch. She was laughing at something Carter said. Jack’s hand moved in slow, soothing circles over her sock-clad feet, which were pulled into his lap. I felt an ache in my chest over how badly I wanted to join the three of them.
“Hey, guys,” I called out, feigning nonchalance. Just going ‘out’. No chance of violence. “Greyson and I have to step out for a bit. Just going to check on things at the distillery.”
Kennedy’s laughter faltered, her gaze snapping to mine with an intuitive sharpness that saw too much. “What’s going on?”
“Everything’s fine, Kennedy,” I reassured her. “We just want to get our own eyes on the place and make sure Velasco is there.”
She didn’t look entirely convinced, but she nodded, allowing us to maintain the façade of a harmless outing. “You’ll be careful?”
“Always am,” I promised. I leaned over the couch to press a hot, fierce kiss to her lips.
