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“I take it things are complicated with your parents.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” She shakes her head and takes another drink. “I know I shouldn’t talk about this. But I also found out today that my car got totaled by the fire department, which is great.”
“Could be a lawsuit there.”
“You want to do pro bono work?”
“Not really.”
She finishes her wine with a sigh. I realize she’s been sitting here for a little while, and I doubt that’s her first glass.
Fucking hell. But she doesn’t seem wasted, and this conversation can’t wait. I decide to press on, considering the outcome of this discussion will decide whether we get our throats cut by Irish gangsters in the middle of the night or not.
“I understand you have some questions about what happened back in Boston,” I prompt.
She snorts. It’d be cute, if it weren’t so undignified. “That’s putting it mildly. Who the fuck were those guys? Why did they pull out a freakinggunwhen I walked into the room? Talk about an overreaction.”
I rub my face. God, she’s talking loud. “They are the Crowley family. They’re an organization of—” I hesitate for a moment.
“They’re criminals. I figured that out when they were talking about selling meth.”
My eyes widen. “You heard?”
“They weren’t quiet.”
“Fucking shit.” I grunt and take a long drink from my whiskey. I think I need to get drunk too. “All right then. The Crowley family is a group of Irish criminals. They’re the biggest mob family on the East Coast.”
“And you want to be their lawyer?”
I tilt my head sideways. “Pretty much.”
She stares at me for a long moment, lips pursed. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy that wants to get in trouble.”
“I’m not. I’m the opposite of trouble. It’s why I’m a lawyer.”
“Working for mobsters seems likea lotof trouble. Especially the type of mobsters that whip out guns on random girls.”
I tense my jaw. “I told you not to come looking for me.”
“You didn’t mention the life-or-death stakes.”
“They were startled, that’s all. I promised them I’d be alone, and most sane people wouldn’t walk in on the Crowley family having a private meeting. They thought you were a threat.”
“I’mnot,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m just your stupid assistant.”
“They didn’t know that. Now here we are, in this mess together.”
She groans. “What did you tell them after I left?”
“That you’re my wife.” I hesitate, not sure if I should tell her this part or not, but shove forward anyway. “Orin invited us back to Boston next weekend.”
“Us?” she asks, blinking rapidly. “You mean me and you?”
“As in, me and my new, absurdly young wife.”
“I’m notthatyoung. You’re just an old man.”
“I’m thirty-five. That isn’t old.”
