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“Maybe you and Bianca should leave,” John suggested. “You could hunker down in the back of the Explorer and I’ll drive you someplace else.”
“I’m already thinking about that.”
“Any idea who it might be?”
“Yeah, I have a hunch. Bianca recognized the shooter. His name is Big Mike, he was one of Roland’s men, but we’ll discuss this in detail when you and Brad get back here,” Nick said as they left the room and headed to the front door. “Keep your eyes peeled when you leave. Let me know if you see that car anywhere, and if you do, try to get a good look at the driver.”
As John climbed into his SUV and drove through the gates, Nick suddenly remembered the mysterious sedan parked on the side of the road. Cursing under his breath for not paying it more attention, he strode into the kitchen and found Bianca at the kitchen table with a fresh pot of coffee and a plate of muffins.
“Hi,” she said, rising to her feet and walking up to him. “I heard you and John come in, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Thanks. We needed to talk,” Nick replied, hugging her tightly, finding himself swept up with the need to protect her at all costs. “How are you?”
Pulling back, she stared up at him, a Mona Lisa smile crossing her lips. “Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but in spite of everything, I’m better than I have been in a long time.”
His heart skipped. Something was happening between them, and it wasn’t just the hot sex. “Even though your ass is sore?”
She paused. “Maybe because my ass is sore,” she quipped with a wink.
“Good answer,” he said, placing his phone on the table and sitting down. “Now pour me some coffee, woman.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said with a giggle, then pressed her lips on his with a quick, but fervent kiss. “The muffins are delicious,” she remarked as she stepped back and poured the hot brew into his mug. “I don’t know where Cindy bought them, but I want to find out and order a truckload.”
“There’s a bakery near my office. I think we’d starve if it wasn’t there, and I swear they have the best coffee in L.A. When things are back to normal, I’ll take you.”
“I’d love that, but, uh, what happens now?” she asked, settling into a chair opposite him.
Picking up his mug, he took a drink, then looked at her intently. “Bianca, I can arrange for you to speak to your parents on a secure line.”
“Seriously?” she asked, her eyes widening.
“Seriously,” he repeated. “Would you like me to do that?”
“Of course, but how?”
“The how doesn’t matter,” he replied, picking up his phone.
“You mean I can talk to them right now?”
“That’s what I mean.”
“Shit. Do they know I’m okay?”
“Yes, Bianca, they know you’re okay.”
“You’ve spoken to them? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just did.”
“Holy crap. My heart is suddenly thumping.”
“Should I hold off for a minute?” he asked, pausing his finger just as he was about to place the call.
“No, no, but after I’ve spoken to them, you have to tell me how this happened.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Bianca, I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“Sorry, no, you don’t,” she replied, lowering her voice, “but I’d like it if you did.”
