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“It is—”
“It is my wife’s birthday,” came a much louder voice, belonging to a portly, gray-bearded, yet balding man, grinning as he came up to us.
“Séan Dorgan MacQuillan,” I said, recognizing the old man, looking to the much younger woman now at his side. “I thought your wife was dead.”
“I thought yours was, too,” he shot back, and I chuckled, nodding, though I did not say more, outstretching my hand to where Calliope sat.
“Calliope, this is Bullnecked Dorgan. He and my father were friends,” I introduced them.
“Not good enough friends, apparently, if he can throw a birthday party and not send us an invite. Mr. MacQuillan, I’m hurt.” Calliope pouted, and I looked at his wife.
The more I looked at her, the more I even wondered if she was of age to be married to anyone.
“Mrs. MacQuillan, happy birthday. If we had known, we would have brought you a gift… Actually, Ethan, what do you say we pay for everyone’s meal? I feel rude coming in like this.”
Lie any harder, my love, and your whole body may combust, I thought as I looked at her.
“Oh no, I could not have that.” Dorgan laughed. “Your embarrassment cannot match mine, Mrs. Callahan, for the misunderstanding. We sent an invite weeks ago to the first—”
Calliope’s eyes narrowed at him, and because he was acquainted with our family, he chose his words even more carefully. “We sent
an invite but so much has happened in the city since then, such a little thing as a birthday must have gotten lost in the mix.”
“That must be it,” I replied coldly, shifting my gaze to him. “So, there is no need for embarrassment. Enjoy your breakfast. My wife simply wished for pancakes.”
“Hopefully, we will all meet sometime later. Happy birthday again,” Calliope stated, her attention now on our coffee that had arrived. With that, Mr. MacQuillan left our table to go back to their guests.
It took a moment for everyone to leave us alone. Even though the muttering and slight laughter returned, I was sure they were watching us both carefully.
“They are not guilty of anything,” Calliope whispered to me in Italian as she buttered her bagel. “At least, nothing severe. Dorgan did send you an invite to his wedding, which was last night, and this breakfast, but, I’m sure you know who did not pay attention to those details. With what happened last night, I assume many of them thought you would be at home licking your wounds. So, seeing you out and about, perfectly fine, with a brand-new woman, of course, was a bit stunning for them. Now they all have to change their morning gossip.”
“Step three, distract me from the night before?” I asked her, lifting my coffee to my lips.
“No. Step three, never show anyone when you bleed,” she replied.
“That sounds more like a rule than a part of a plan.”
“Aren’t rules just guidelines for plans?”
“And Vinnie? I thought he was supposed to be a new guard, not a new businessman?”
“Why can’t he be both?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.
“Because one is a full-time job as it is.”
“Old school is nice, but it is not the only school,” she replied. “Dino and Italo will be personal bodyguards. Vinnie’s specialty is more…covert. He is from this city, but just like me, hasn’t known much of it. If you wanted to right now, just give him the order, and he’d kill every last one of those ingrates watching us.” Her eyes were iced over. Her whole body was stiff, her face emotionless. “Not here, of course, whatever he put in their food, they would feel later, at home, on the way, the next day…maybe a week later. As a rising, rich businessman in the city, he would be in all the same circles we are.”
A bodyguard that did not look like a bodyguard.
“How creative,” I replied when our pancakes came out. I was not that hungry, but, the woman across from me nearly pounced on them.
I opened my mouth to say something, but she shot me another glare. So, I kept quiet and drank my coffee, trying to relax. But of course, Calliope’s plans for the day were ever unfolding. Dino entered the restaurant, his dark hair slicked back. And as if we had some previous understanding as boss and employee, he walked toward me. Nodding to me before nodding to Calliope, who pretended she had little interest in whatever he had to say. He simply gave me a phone.
Taking it without fanfare, I turned it on to see the footage. Miguel Munha, pacing frantically back and forth in a house, two women bound and gagged behind him. All of them wearing some type of device. I glanced from him to the woman now happily eating her pancakes, with her legs crossed and her whole body relaxed as if she owned the place—in a way, she did. But that wasn’t all. There were other houses, at least a dozen to be exact, with other people also gagged, also bound, also with vests on. Women, children, men, it didn’t matter. They were all frantically trapped within their homes, scared out of their minds.
“I do not know why you asked for half of it to be burned,” Calliope spoke up gently as her gray eyes met mine. “I do know you have people in certain places, who should be able to take certain things back for you. Unfortunately, I do not know those people. So, I will have to leave that to you and provide a good enough distraction to give you time to get you what is yours back.”
I did my best not to smile. She was right. I did plan to get the drugs back. I just did not have a proper distraction. “I thought you wanted the police to take him in alive.”
