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She nodded. “Breakfast. I’m thinking pancakes.”
“Works for me.”
In the kitchen, Bailey was prepping the coffee machine in her pjs. “Morning,” she mumbled. “Who wants coffee?”
He and his devil placed their orders before Havana got to work on breakfast. He didn’t know what it said about him that he found it unexpectedly hot to watch her cook. Her movements were quick, efficient, purposeful. There were rarely any wasted movements with Havana; she didn’t fidget, tap her foot, or even get distracted by her playful shit-talk with Bailey.
Soon enough, she was setting a stack of pancakes on the table. The three of them immediately dug in.
Tate sipped at his coffee, his eyes on Havana. Now seemed as good a time as any to broach the matter playing on his mind. “I’m going to ask a few things of you that you’re probably not going to like.”
“You want to step up the security measures around me,” she guessed, trickling syrup over her pancakes. She didn’t say it with annoyance, which seemed like a good sign. Alphas generally didn’t react well to having others surround them with protection, him included—it was reflexive, really, but he needed her to push past that.
“Firstly, I don’t want you going anywhere alone, no matter how short the journey will be,” said Tate. “You can kick ass, yes, but no one is invincible. If you hadn’t had Aspen and my enforcers with you yesterday, we might not be sitting here now.” And that fucked with his head far too much.
She ran her tongue over the edges of her teeth. “I can agree to that,” she said, begrudgingly.
Some of the tension seeped from Tate’s shoulders. “Secondly, I’d like you to either ride with Deke and Isaiah or borrow one of my pride’s vehicles until this is over.” Oh, now that made her go still. “They all have bulletproof glass,” he quickly added.
“They do?” asked Bailey.
“My father dabbles in organized crime,” he reminded the mamba, “so he has enemies.” Tate looked back at Havana. “Maybe asking this of you is me being overcautious, but it’s also sensible. It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”
Bailey flicked her a look. “Bullet in the throat,” she muttered beneath her breath.
Havana sighed, her shoulders drooping. She couldn’t deny that it made good sense. But she really, really wanted to, because it galled every alpha instinct that she had to have someone try to wrap her up in cotton wool. “I’ll borrow one of your pride’s cars.” She had no reason to distrust his enforcers, but she didn’t know them well enough to be comfortable with them chauffeuring her around.
Tate gave a slow nod. “Lastly, Deke and Isaiah are no longer simply going to follow you in their car. They’ll also shadow you on foot and stick close at all times, whether you’re at work, in a store, or—”
“That’s not really necessary.”
“Yeah, it is. Because while they’re outside whatever building you’re in, they can’t be sure if you’re safe inside.”
Well … true. But she didn’t like the thought of two near-strangers tailing her every moment of the day.
“Gideon was cocky yesterday when he called,” Tate reminded her. “You can imagine what he felt when he realized his plan had failed. He’s going to want to rectify his mistake. Let’s not give him the room to do so.”
“Bullet to the throat,” Bailey again muttered quietly.
Havana ground her teeth. He was right. She knew he was. And if Alphas as powerful as Tate had guards when they were out in public, there was no reason for her to bristle so much over having two enforcers hanging around her. “Fine.” She’d expected Tate to look all smug that he’d gotten his way, but he only looked relieved.
He squeezed her hand. “I know it’s not easy for you to accept that level of protection, especially when you barely know my cats.”
In truth, if it hadn’t been for the drive-by yesterday, she might not have been so cooperative. “I don’t fancy having another brush with death.”
Once they’d eaten their breakfast and stacked the dishwasher, Tate headed into the bedroom to check in with Luke and his enforcers via phone.
Bailey sidled closer to her. “So … I can see that Tate’s happy you two are mates. You don’t seem quite so content. What’s wrong?”
“I’m not unhappy,” said Havana. “I’m just annoyed that I can’t sense the bond.”
“Like he said, you will in time. Just so you know, I’m fucking thrilled for you.”
“Well, thanks. Now go get dressed so we’re not late for work.”
“I won’t be late.” Bailey had just reached the kitchen doorway when someone knocked—no, pounded—on the front door. The mamba sighed. “Aspen’s apparently in a mood.”
“Then please don’t poke at her.”
“I can’t help it,” said Bailey, heading for the door.
Havana only rolled her eyes and took another sip of her coffee. She heard the creak of hinges.
