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Weariness takes hold of me, and I let out a long breath.
“Go home and rest,” I tell him. “I’ll do the same. We’ll regroup this evening to decide on security.”
“You mean bodyguards?”
I nod. Though the idea of being guarded everywhere I go irks me, it might be necessary. “For my uncle as well.” I think back to my encounter with the assassin. “That woman wasn’t ordered to killme.”
“Your uncle was the target,” Gunn adds.
I nod. “But I’m not sure he’s aware of that.”
He frowns. “Why would they go after him and not you?”
“That’s a very good question. I suspect the only way we’ll know is to find out exactly who the Ferryman is.”
* * *
It’s morning by the time I pull up to the gate of Briar House. Though it’s electronic, it’s operated by one of my men in a small building on the property.
For the first time, I notice the lack of security around the house. It’s not that Tony didn’t maintain the appropriate number of contractors and soldiers. It’s that he didn’t add the current situation into the equation. And neither did I.
I’ll remedy that later today.
“Mr. Sinacore,” one of the guards greets when I park under the portico.
I nod and make to walk away but stop and turn back to him as a thought occurs to me. “Hansen.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ve been here a while, haven’t you?”
“A few years,” he confirms proudly. “Your father hired me.”
Yes, that’s what I thought. My father trusted him to guard the house while he slept. So did my brother.
“What time will you change posts?”
“In an hour,” he replies.
“I’d like you to come inside when you’re done. I have a new position to offer you.”
He inclines his head, then like a good little soldier, faces away from the house and begins to walk the perimeter, his eyes alert. I’m certain he will do nicely as one of my personal guards.
Right now, I have more pressing matters. Like the splitting headache I need to get rid of.
I step into the foyer, determined to find something for the pain, and almost mow Nan down. Reaching out, I catch her before she stumbles backward with her load of laundry.
“Luca, child, you scared the bejesus out of—” She cuts off when she gets a look at me. Gently, she cups my cheek as she winces. “Lord almighty, what the heck happened to you?”
“It’s nothing.”
“What do you mean it’s nothing? Your face is shredded!” She sets the basket down and attempts to grab my wrist. “Come with me. I’ll get you fixed up.”
“Nan.” I sigh. “I’m not a child anymore. You don’t have to fix anything. But if you could find me some aspirin or a hammer to knock me out, I’d be grateful.”
“I’ll bring you that and a first aid kit. Just because you grow a beard, you think you’re a man,” she mutters as she disappears.
I head to the study, and a few minutes later, she returns with a basket full of medicines.
