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I nodded. “She’ll be there at five.”
“Great. We should make it by four-thirty.”
“Do we take it as a positive or a negative that you want to meet the people you love before we take off on this Herculean trial?” Cin inquired.
Narrowing my eyes at her, I retorted, “Shut up.”
“I mean, if we’re about to meet our Maker,” she continued, “how come I don’t get to see my mom and dad?”
“Are you even talking to them?”
“No.”
“What’s the problem then?”
“I’d have liked to be asked.”
“You’ll never die, Cin. We’ll face an apocalypse first and you’ll be the star of the nextI Am Legendbut the BAMF version.”
She preened. “I will accept this form of apology.”
“It’s not an apology,” I countered with a sniff. “Plus, I don’t think we’re going to die. I just haven’t seen Kat in too long and Conor needs to catch up with his brothers.”
“I don’t,” he informed me. “They’re just going to grill you.”
Cin hooted. “More likeshewill grillthem.”
My lips curved as I reached for his hand and entwined my fingers in his grip. “You do know that isn’t going to happen, don’t you?”
Conor’s eyes collided with mine. “Why do you think I want a front-row seat?”
It was beyond hot that he knew what I was capable of and it turned him on.
“I’d like to meet with The Whistler anyway.” Cin interrupted our prolonged stare with a cluck of her tongue.
“How do you know him again?”
“It’s alongstory and we definitely don’t have time for it right now.”
A couple hours later, still none the wiser about how Dead To Me knew The Whistler well enough that she wanted to meet up—seriously, she hated everyone, and meeting people was her idea of torture—I stared at an overly large brownstone that, in this city, was ugly as fuck yet had a value of thirty million. Or maybe more.
NYC made no sense.
“When did they move into this place?” I asked Conor as he rested a hand on my back and guided me toward the door.
The last I knew, Aoife and Finn lived in one of the Acuig penthouses.
“A few weeks after Da died.”
I grimaced. “Oh.”
His lips twitched. “Oh. You always look like I’ve caught you with your hand in the cookie jar when I mention that.”
“Atonement. Remember?”
“It’d be easier to get that in a tattoo. Instantaneous results,” Cin chimed in.
“That’s not the point, Cin,” Conor chided.
