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Hawk met his eyes. “If you think of it like a job, it is.”
“Was it simple with Laurel?” The question, said with more bite than Logan intended, escaped his lips before he had a chance to check it. He was one of the few people who could speak honestly with Hawk without risking a broken bone — or a broken face — but he still tried not to poke the bear.
Force of habit after a lifetime as friends.
He was surprised by Hawk’s steady gaze, surprised not to see the flare of anger in his best friend’s eyes.
A lot had changed in the past few months.
“Sure,” Hawk said. “In the beginning. Later… not so much, which is why I understand what you’re going through, to some degree anyway.”
Logan appreciated the qualification. Letting emotions interfere with a job was never a good idea, but his history with Ella was long and complicated.
Still, Hawk was right: Logan couldn’t send one of the men to set up security for Ella and her son Emilio.
He wouldn’t.
They had been living separate lives for two decades, but he needed to know Ella and her son were okay. Needed to know they were out in the world, safe and alive and happy.
Logan lifted the beer to his lips. “Guess I’m going to Chicago.”
3
Gabriella read the last line of the chapter and looked down, watching the steady rise and fall of Leo’s breath, his small chest expanding and contracting under his favorite dinosaur pajamas.
He was finally asleep, and she closed the worn copy of Charlotte’s Web — they’d read it three times in the past year — and set it on the nightstand. It was her favorite part about getting home before bedtime, the one thing that could lure her away from an exciting case and the job she loved.
Here in Leo’s room — the soft light glowing from his airplane lamp, the multicolored fish swimming across his walls and ceiling as the mini-projector on his dresser spun — the rest of the world seemed small and insignificant.
Leo didn’t care about Yakov Vitsin. He didn’t care if Gabriella won or lost in court. He didn’t care if his dad became mayor or if it looked bad to have a cruiser parked across the street, keeping an eye on the house.
He just wanted to read about a pig and a spider who were friends, and Gabriella relished the soft weight of him in her arms, his hair still damp and smelling like eucalyptus-scented baby shampoo.
It put everything in perspective, but tonight it also amplified the fear that had been twisting under her skin.
Being a lawyer wasn’t supposed to be dangerous, and for the vast majority of attorneys in the country, it wasn’t. But Gabriella was picking a fight with Yakov Vitsin, and by association, the entire Chicago bratva, currently led by Viktor Baranov.
She wasn’t a novice. She’d clerked on a RICO case back when she’d been in law school, and she’d been within striking distance of several mafia cases in the years since.
A conviction — any conviction — was bad news for an organization that relied on secrecy and loyalty. Convictions got other soldiers in the organization thinking about their futures.
It got them talking.
All of which meant it was in Baranov’s interest to ensure Vitsin didn’t go to jail, and right now, Gabriella was one of the primary instruments of that eventuality.
She kissed Leo’s head and slid carefully out of bed.
“Mommy…” he mumbled as she stood. He rolled over on his side, his dark curls licking the back of his neck, unfairly long lashes casting shadows on his still baby-soft cheeks.
She stroked his hair. “Shhhh… it’s okay. Mommy’s here. Go to sleep.”
He sighed and sank deeper into the pillow.
She stepped softly from the room and closed the door halfway behind her. Leo didn’t like to sleep with the door closed.
She inhaled deeply, then exhaled as she walked down the upstairs hall, feet bare under the leggings she’d changed into when she got home.
She descended the stairs and stopped by the front door to make sure the alarm was armed. Then she walked to the living room and stood to the side of the windows, looking out onto the street, relieved to see the cruiser still there.
