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But if anything, the man rushing through the door and shoving Myra and her baby behind him is no prince. Instead, he’s a big bad wolf, a mess of shaggy blond hair windblown from the frantic ride, cheeks rough with weeks of growth, and an oil-stained tank top and jeans atop black engineer boots.
He doesn’t look at Myra, his eyes fixed on me.
“You okay?” he says over his shoulder.
Her response has just a touch of vinegar, but she’s quiet at least. “I’m fine. Mr. Angeline has been polite . . . mostly.”
I lift my eyebrows at that, considering I’ve been more than polite under the circumstances. Her man’s defensively hard look would be scary if I were anyone other than who I am. Behind Robert, I can see Gavin coming up the walkway, but I shake my head once, stopping him. No need for that yet.
“Please sit,” I say, choosing to let the steam out of the pot before the situation boils over needlessly, though ordering a man around in his own home is rather cocky of me. I lean back, taking a small delight that my chair is apparently ‘his chair’, watching as he sinks to the couch.
“Go on and take the baby to the bedroom, Myra,” he says.
She takes a step toward the hall, following his instructions wordlessly, but I hold up a hand, stopping her. “That won’t be necessary. I believe you both should hear this . . . since it concerns the entire family. Please sit.”
She pulls the baby tighter to her body, her eyes flashing to Zallow, and he scoots to the side, keeping himself between me and her as she sits beside him.
I take a deep breath, letting a long sigh out into the room.
“There are times when melodrama takes over the world. This is one of those times, I suspect. This feels like a rather significant build-up to what is really just a mere conversation. Mr. Zallow, I am Dominick Angeline. I suspect that means something to you. I simply wanted to stop by and introduce myself, seeing as how you’ve moved into East Robinsville so suddenly. And without my permission.”
His eyes narrow as he takes me in, still trying to decide whether I’m here to harm his blossoming family. Still, he sees that I haven’t moved in any threatening way.
“My apologies, Sir. My move-in was unexpected.” He glances at the baby and then back at me. “And unrelated to any work or affiliations I may have.”
His words are careful and crisp, like the military man I know him to be, but also ones of intelligence and manners. I re-evaluate him as he speaks. He might look a little wild, but there are brains behind that outer mask. I wonder if the discrepancy is intentional, meant to confuse others and lead them to underestimate him.
I won’t make that mistake. I can see the cunning light in his eyes and recognize a man who could be either a valuable ally or a deadly opponent.
I rub at my chin as though I’m thinking, but I already know my play here, what will give me the upper hand. “Perhaps you’ll let me tell you a story?”
He swallows once, an involuntary tell, but nods his chin. I lean forward, uncrossing my legs and planting my elbows on my knees, looking Zallow directly in his eyes.
“Once upon a time, there was a king. He was known as the Bastard King, not because of his birth but because he ruled his kingdom with an unyielding grip. He kept his subjects safe from threats outside their borders.” I glance pointedly out the window and then back to the family before me. “But also from dangers within. To do so, he kept a tight rein on everything and everyone who lived in his kingdom. He knows all. Names, addresses, familial ties, allegiances, strengths, weaknesses . . . everything that made even those who loved him admit privately that yes, he was a bit of a bastard. He didn’t like engaging in violence but knew it was a tool, a necessary evil, if you will. But more commonly, his showing up for a friendly chat to someone’s home would be considered a sign of respect or a warning if they had mis-stepped in some way. Only after ignoring a warning would he lose his . . . patient nature.”
“Some, I’m sure, have tried to take advantage of that king,” Zallow says in reply, and I nod. “Yet he stayed solidly on the throne.”
“Because he only warned once,” I reply. “Then he crushed his opponents mercilessly. I’m sure you understand. If someone from East Robinsville, say, one of Pete’s boys, decided to set up shop next to your clubhouse in Johnstown, you’d have something to say about that. Correct?”
Zallow scoffs lightly. “Damn straight, we would.”
