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“Let me tell you what I know when I think of Kami,” he interrupted. “For seventeen years, I have had the privilege of watching her grow from an awkward and shy child into an intelligent, dedicated, beautiful woman. For seventeen years, she’s been a daughter to your mother, a sister to your siblings and a loyal friend to you. The Trevils and Deluches, two of the city’s most dangerous and ruthless families adore her. They trust her and so do I. Explicitly. But let me tell you what else,” he unfolded his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “When a woman waits for you when she has no reason to, when she is loved so completely by your family, when she has proven herself time and again that she belongs in your world with you, the only person standing in your way is you.”
It was impossible to keep my resolve when he was shattering everything I was holding on to.
“It’s more complicated than that,” I murmured, recognizing the weakness in my words even as I spoke them. “I may not always be here. Who will protect her when I’m … when something happens? When there’s another Volkov? Another threat?”
He at least seemed to consider that.
He studied the ripples at the bottom of his nearly empty glass, letting the amber liquid slosh against the crystal sides.
“Who protected her when you weren’t here before?” he said at last, eyes lifting to meet mine, a calm danger behind the stare.
I started to shake my head. “I don’t—”
“I did,” he countered evenly. “Your mother did. Your sister, Kas, Sasha.” He placed his glass down on the coffee table and pushed to his feet. “Kami is the most protected woman in the city. She has an entire army behind her. She will never not be protected.”
The conversation with my father looped endlessly through my mind as I waited for the car to pull up to the address Abilene’s people had forwarded to me. The diner was located clear across the city near the suburbs, settling just before the city limits ended. It was a long enough drive that I had too much time to think and not enough distractions. Several times, I had to stop myself from dialing Kami just to hear her voice.
It had been a fucking week, and I was going through withdrawal. Hard. I missed her. I missed her smell and the way she fit into me. I missed just having her there. Hell, I missed the sound of her turning the pages on a book. It was most likelythat very reason why I felt my father’s words so deeply, why they’d managed to poke holes into my shield. The possibility that he could be right terrified me. The thought that maybe … just maybe I could…
I set it aside.
I had to get my thoughts in order if I was going to face Abilene. She was my main focus and the battle I had to win. After that, I would figure out the rest.
The sun warmed my face as I exited the car and made my way to the single-story structure shaped like any other house on the block. The only difference was the giant, colored sign above the door declaring the place a family establishment since 1906.
“Want me to come in with you, boss?” Terrance eyed the building as he held open the car door for me.
It was probably a reckless move, not bringing backup with me. No situation was a completely safe one and backstabbing happened frequently, but if Abilene wanted to betray me, it would happen regardless.
I waved away Terrance’s offer to come in with me and started the climb up the wooden steps.
The soft drawl of jazz greeted me at the threshold laced with the warm scent of fried tomatoes and herbs stirred by the slow rotation of the fan overhead. Dozens of tables sat clustered throughout the place, their chairs turned over top, but there wasn’t a soul in sight.
“Hello?” I called.
A heartbeat passed before I heard, “Back here!”
I moved slowly, but with calm purpose around the counter and into the kitchen.
Abilene Beaumont, a short, stout woman with steely gray curls and face permanently fixed somewhere between fifty-five and sixty peered up at me over the rim of a steaming pot. Her gray eyes matched the water bubbling inside. She had a woodenspoon clasped in a white-knuckled grip, idly stirring the chunks of pasta floating to the surface.
“Darius,” she said and motioned me closer with her free hand. “Are you hungry?”
I wasn’t, but I offered her a smile. “How can I not be? It smells delicious.”
It wasn’t a lie. Whatever sauce was simmering on the next element was making my stomach whine.
“Good. The plates are over there.” She gestured to a small stack of plates with cutlery on one of the steel counters. “Go ahead and set them up on the table and I’ll drain this.”
The table she indicated was a wooden, uneven slab of wood in the corner of the kitchen. It made no difference to me as I draped my coat over the back of a chair and set to work setting two spots.
Neither of us spoke until we were seated on opposite sides.
“Cheese?” she offered, holding up a bowl of freshly grated parmesan.
I accepted and watched as she sprinkled a handful on my spaghetti. Her fingers were dusted on her floral apron.
“Eat!” she urged with a wave of her hand.
