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“I’m sure they were watching. He wasn’t a threat.”
He grunted. “If you say so. What did he want?”
“Nothing.” I frowned, repeated, “Nothing.” I believed that. So why did it feel like a lie? “Is everything okay with Aidan?”
“As okay as it ever is in this fucking world we live in.”
A part of me wondered if Finn was depressed by his circumstances, but Finn was the kind of man who didn’t particularly have time to be depressed. He’d push through it because time was money, and money was his god.
“I heard you talking about Halloween.”
It was his turn to blink, then he laughed. “You wouldn’t make a great spy, sweetheart. Although, I was whispering, so you’d have the ears for it.” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Ghost guns, not ghosts.”
“Do I even want to know?”
“No, you don’t.”
Gently, I asked, “Have there been any repercussions about Sullivan and Walsh?”
He pressed a kiss to my throat, making me shiver in his hold as he answered, “Not so far.”
Distracted, I still had the wherewithal to query, “You’re not certain Senior will keep to his word?”
“No. I’m not.” He tugged at my bun. “Why did you put your hair up?”
Because I wasn’t an idiot, I knew he was trying to change the subject, and I rolled with it, seeing as this was our time together and business took up too much of that anyway.
“It was a mess.” I tapped the tip of his nose. “Give me more notice in the future.”
He cast me a sly glance. “How would that be a surprise?”
My lips quirked. “Well, a bun is the compromise.”
I smiled at the maître d’ as he approached us, and while he guided us to our table, I cast a glance around the restaurant, trying to see if I could find the stranger.
But I couldn’t.
Had he left?
And why did it bother me so much that he might have?
