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“Yes, Officer Garcia. How can I assist you this fine morning?”
Bridge was lounging in his seat across from me, his brown robes pooling around him and his booted feet on the edge of the desk. His gaze never left mine, scrutinizing my every move. We grew up in a world of organized crime, and most of the time, one wrong move, one wrong word, and it was game over. But Bridge’s scrutiny was different—there was an unspoken challenge, a constant reminder of the dangers we’d left behind. The guy never forgot anything, but he was loyal, and we’d been through enough shit that I trusted him with my life.
Logan stood by the window, staring at the front yard. He wasn’t his usual perky self all morning, lost deep in thought.
“Katerina Harper... how is she settling in?” Officer Garcia’s question pulled me into our conversation.
“She’s doing well and has already found herself a friend.” I tried to keep my voice steady, calm. “Katerina will be fine at the institute.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line before she asked, “Can I speak with her?”
Stiffening in my seat, I cleared my throat. “I think she might be at breakfast right now.” I glanced at the clock. “But I’ll get her to call you in ten to fifteen minutes, if that’s alright?”
“Okay, that would be great. Thank you, Father.” Then she hung up.
“Fuck.” I slammed the handle onto the phone receiver and grit my teeth.
Bridge was on me like a hawk, leaning forward, hands on the desk.
“What the fuck was that about? What did the cop want?” Fear slipped through the cracks of his usually stoic expression.
“Just checking up on Katerina and wanting to talk with her.”
“Mason, you’re shitting us, right?” Logan was at my side, his brow furrowed with concern. His gaze was locked on me, searching for answers. “We can’t have a damn cop sniffing around here.”
“Just chill the fuck out, both of you.” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, dread coiling tighter in my gut. “It’s normal procedure for her to check on the girl since she brought her to the institute.”
Logan cursed under his breath.
“The girl’s bad news.” Bridge’s lips pinched, his arms folded across his chest. “Sure, she’s hot to stare at, but not worth our lives. We’ve been fine for eight weeks, and now we’ve got the damn cops calling us. No one else brought this shit to our doorstep.”
Bridge’s words hung heavy in the air. I could practically feel the walls of the office closing in on me.
Logan, in contrast, pulled himself back to a calm composure. “Cool your fucking jets,” he snapped at Bridge, his voice a low growl. “If we send the girl away now, it’ll raise more questions. Mason’s right. Just let the cop hear for herself that Kat’s fine, and she’ll leave us alone.”
“And what if she mentions ‘Father Mason’ instead of ‘Father Michael’ to the officer?” Bridge’s eyes blazed, his attention flicking back and forth between Logan and me.
Tension tightened around my chest, squeezing the life out of my lungs. When Logan opened his mouth to continue his assault, I held up a hand to stop him.
“Don’t overthink this. It’s just a chat, nothing more. I’ll stay in the room while she’s talking to Officer Garcia and listen to what goes down.”
Bridge huffed, his gaze intensifying on me.
“Bridge,” I said, my voice cutting through the silence, “Make yourself busy and go get Katerina.”
Once he stormed out, the silence hung heavy between us. Logan drummed his fingers against the wooden surface of the desk, his gaze distant.
“Something on your mind, Logan?” I asked firmly.
He shrugged. “Nah, all good.”
The lie hung in the air. Logan was a street-smart guy who grew up in the bad part of New Orleans. Underneath his hardened exterior, I knew there was a heart that cared. I could also tell when something bothered him.
“You seem distracted,” I pushed. “Are you missing the chaos back home?”
Logan lifted his head. “I ain’t missing a damn thing or any of those bastards back there.”
The silence returned. My thoughts wandered to the evening with Katerina. She was breathtaking, and I’d seen the way Logan stared at her over dinner. The whole damn room noticed.
