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“Is it bad?” Liam asked. “Do I need to go down there?”
I wanted to shout no. He wasn’t allowed to put himself in danger at all, ever. Gabe answered him before I could say anything. “Nah, it’s not that bad. I got a towel from one of the staff. I’ll bring myself to you to get patched up.”
“I’m with Gabe now,” Dante said.
Now that we knew he was safe, the team started bitching at Gabe.
“Jesus Christ, Gabe!” Pete said. “Can’t you go on one op without getting hurt?”
“Maybe we should labelyousoft and squishy,” Liam snarked.
“Listen, you,” Gabe shot back, “I might just join your little D&D game so I can smite your squishy self.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Liam retorted. “Fireball is my friend.”
“Ok, this sounds good,” Pete said. “I want in.”
“Sounds like our first game with Liam is going to be a riot,” Andrea said.
For the first time since I put my team together, I felt isolated from them. I wasn’t sure how I could fix this rift between us. I had to get out of my own way somehow.
I kept going toward where Gabe and Dante would be coming out of the kitchen, trying to push aside my hurt feelings. They had no place in a professional operation. “On my way toward you, Gabe. What’s your location?”
“Exiting the kitchen now. Heading to the conference room.”
“Copy that,” I said. “I’ll meet you outside the door.”
“Andrea and Pete, what’s your status?”
“Standby, Sarge,” she said quietly. A couple of seconds later, she came back. “The bride’s mother saw us leaving and wanted to know what was happening. Now she’s all upset. I’m trying to calm her down.”
“All right. You’re good at calming people down. Do what you do best. Let me know if you need backup.”
“Roger that, Sarge. And thanks.”
I hurried toward the conference room because I didn’t want Richie McAsshole in the room with Michael and Liam without me putting the fear of God in him. I got there just as Gabe and Dante were dragging him down the hallway. He was still yelling and cursing them out, which I mostly ignored until I heard the N-word come out of his mouth when he was addressing Dante.
I strode over to him and grabbed the front of his shirt in my fist. “Shut your filthy mouth right now.”
“Don’t you know who I am?” he snarled.
“Oh, I know who you are, Charles Edward Wainwright the Third. I also know you’re violating a civil restraining order that requires you to stay away from Miss Fairfield… Oh, wait, that’sMrs. Kelseynow, isn’t it?”
“No! She was supposed to marry me! Not that lowlife nobody!”
“And yet she did marry him,” I said. “You, on the other hand, are going to go up on charges of assault with a deadly weapon. And believe me, wewillpress charges, wewillfollow through, and we willnotbe scared off by Daddy’s money.”
Charles sputtered and took a breath for another rant. That died like a deflating balloon when four New York City police officers arrived. He tried to look pathetic and said, “Thank goodness you’re here, officers. This thug assaulted me, and he won’t let me go.”
One of the officers knew me from other security jobs we’d done in the City. He narrowed his eyes at Charles and said, “What do you have, Marco?”
“Charles here violated a restraining order and then attacked my teammate, Gabriel Warner, with a knife.” I pointed at Gabe, who was holding a bloody towel against his upper arm.
“Do you want to press charges, Mr. Warner?” the officer asked.
“Yes, I do,” Gabe replied.
“Do you need medical attention?”
