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Was she staring? His eyesweregreen. A darker green than she’d ever seen. Was it real? Maybe not. Could be contacts. In the low light, it was difficult to tell. He raised the glass to her. Was he…? Was she supposed to…?
With heat enveloping the dizziness in her head, she needed an anchor, or, at minimum, some relief. Taking the glass, she drank, probably more than she should have. It burned all the way down, but at least the sensation concentrated her focus.
She didn’t see McDade turn his head until he spoke.
“Hock and Snuff.”
The glass descended from her lips.
“Want Daly?” Curtain Guy asked.
“Yeah,” McDade said, taking the glass and returning to his desk.
“Miss McLeod.” And now she was Miss McLeod? Respect? That was Curtain Guy, gesturing at her, holding an arm toward the door. “Come this way.”
McDade’s concentration was on his phone. Good. She wanted to be forgotten. Better forgotten than in the basement. Though, that could’ve been a good story… if she’d made it out alive.
No, remember, one mafia family on her ass was enough.
THREE
THEY’RE STILL THERE.
Peeking through the living room blinds was supposed to put her mind at ease. They weren’t supposed to still be there. McDade’s thugs. Parked at the curb.
At being escorted from Stag the previous night, she’d expected the goons to toss her into the gutter. Instead, Curtain Guy poured her into the back of a decked-out Bentley with more expensive liquor in an apparently custom-made cubby.
She didn’t touch it. She tried not to touch anything. Her head was still spinning when the car stopped outside her building.
How had they known where she lived? What else did they know? Dwelling on paranoia wouldn’t end well. She went to bed sure the universe would’ve reset itself by morning.
Yet there she was, peeking out of her own blinds, looking at the car outside. Had they been there all night?
She had no choice except to go out. Steeple, her boss, was expecting her. Monday morning meant staff meeting. Steeple didn’t need to know anymore than her father or brother. Vex would get over it. He always did eventually, until the next time rolled around.
Locking her apartment, she went downstairs, holding her head high. By the time she opened the communal door, a guy was propped against the car, arms folded. Tall, cute, and smiling in a dangerous, “I could snap any second” kind of way.
“Miss McLeod,” he said, boosting off the front fender to open the rear door.
“What are you doing?” she asked, righting the strap of her purse on her arm. “Have you been out here all night?”
“No!” he said, smiling again. “The guys kept watch while I got some zees. You’re in good hands, Miss McLeod.”
“What is going on here?” she asked. “Are you stalking me?”
Like she didn’t have enough trouble with that.
His smile vanished and he slammed the door to advance on her, getting up close. She held her ground. She always held her ground.
“You’re under McDade protection, Miss McLeod. Me and my brothers are under orders to put ourselves between you and trouble. You keep that in mind. You’ve got the power to start a war. If you do, make sure it’s one we can win, else you’ll be the one paying for it too.” His smile was slow, then he backed off to open the door and gestured inside again. “Miss McLeod.”
Shit. Well, she wasn’t going to wrestle him in the street. It was a ride to work. If she kept her nose clean, everything would be fine.
Stepping forward, she put a hand on the top of the door and paused to look over it at him.
“What’s your name?”
“Daly,” he said. “You have nothing to worry about, Miss McLeod. We’re here to keep you safe.”
