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TWO
BACK IN THE ARCHIVES that afternoon, putting together the McDade family tree complicated her attempts to rid Ire from her mind. Tough not to think about the guy when reading his name every twenty seconds.
Should she tell him about her conversation with Evander in the deli? Should she not? Ire assumed she was in Stag for protection. Fine, yes, true. That didn’t mean her path ever had to cross his. Yet, somehow, not only had she got the McDades involved in her mess, but she’d ended up holding the detonator between the two factions.
Okay, so the families wouldn’t be breaking bread anytime soon; that wasn’t on her, but there was a tentative peace between the McDades and the Manzanis. Each had their own territories, their own strengths. They stayed away from each other’s business as much as possible. By all outward appearances anyway.
How many news reports had she read that day? Hundreds? Thousands? However many it was, by the time she left the Chronicler building, it was dark out, and she didn’t feel any wiser.
“Started to think you’d ditched us again,” Daly said, opening her door. “Stag?”
“Home.”
Before she could get in, he pushed the door to block her way. “Boss is expecting you.”
And that was part of the deal.
“I’m hungry,” she said. “And I’d bet he doesn’t want me showing up without taking a shower and changing my clothes.”
“An hour, max.,” he said, determined, widening the ingress again.
“Did he say something?” she asked. “If he’s giving you shit, just tell him the truth. I’m working. I have to do my job.”
“This started as watching Manzani’s mark.”
“I don’t—”
“Watching the boss’s woman is a different gig. A whole different ballgame.”
She smiled. “Yeah, but it’s not—” Did Daly know? He had to know the relationship wasn’t real. Didn’t he? Hmm, best ask Connel and get some clarity on who knew what. And even if it wasn’t real and Daly knew that, others didn’t. Did being Ire McDade’s woman put her in a different kind of jeopardy? “I’ll talk to him.”
“You don’t want to do that.”
“I don’t?”
He shook his head and gestured inside. “Fifty-nine minutes.”
Okay, right, he wanted to get moving. Now she did too. She and Ire needed to have a conversation.
***
THE EMBROIDERED NARROW straps of her red dress descended into a plunge that revealed her cleavage. It was just lucky she had a thing for buying dresses and that both her work and family lives required her to attend so many functions.
Haste. Yes, she was supposed to be quick. Still, things took as long as they took. More than an hour passed while she cooked, showered, and prettied herself for Stag. Her routine was the same as always… wasn’t it? She definitely lingered over hair and makeup, and even did her nails. Either she cared about impressing him or she was delaying the inevitable.
Both were probably true.
By the time the car pulled up to Stag, necessity drove her on. She got out with purpose in her step. How often was that purpose played through to the end? Never. Each time, Ire pulled the rug out from under her. Being around him got her dizzy. Getting close… too close.
It wouldn’t happen again. She’d have a drink, screw her head on straight, and complete her objective.
The guys at the foot of the stairs to the office moved aside, but her trajectory remained the same. Going straight past them, she strode on into the club. Something about the music grounded her. This was what she remembered, what the club provided. Oblivion. Anonymity.
Everyone needed to forget their lives sometimes. Forget who they were and everything going on around them. How could her life have become such a hot mess?
She ordered a drink and sat at the bar, pretending nothing was different. Like she could just sit there, protected by the shell around her.
“Let me get that for you.”
