Chapter 5 #2
He stepped toward her, slid a hand under her already damp chin, and lifted her face. Her eyes were watering, and a lone tear slipped down her cheek.
She gulped in a breath and squeezed his elbow. “Did you see the look on that usher’s face when I ran by him?” Full-body laughter shook her, and she wiped another tear from her eye. “He was horrified! He couldn’t even get a word out. He just sputtered and waved his flashlight at me.”
Her delight was infectious, and amusement welled up from his gut. For a few seconds, they were both shaking and gripping their sides, roaring with laughter.
“We have to stop,” she said. “People are staring, and we’re getting soaked.”
She was right. The windbreaker he’d worn for the trip wasn’t waterproof, and cold rain was seeping through, dampening his arms. Plus, his hair was so closely cut that raindrops were sliding down his head and into the neckline of his shirt.
He reached out, pulled the umbrella from her wrist, popped it open, and slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her soft curves against his side. Her shoulder slid perfectly under his arm as if they were pieces of the jigsaw puzzles his father had liked so much.
“Let’s go get a drink,” he suggested.
He guided her through the damp streets, chatting and dodging puddles, his body moving without thought, like driving to work.
You did it so frequently that some days you left the house and then parked and didn’t remember the drive.
That same feeling struck him when he realized they were at McGillin’s.
Shit.
He hadn’t meant to bring her here.
“You okay?” she asked, rubbing his biceps.
He was not okay. They were at fucking McGillin’s.
He and Phillipe would come here whenever they needed a break. Half the time, Samantha would leave the kids with her mom and meet them. The three of them would spend the night drinking beer, eating wings, playing pool, and laughing their asses off.
Aleksei hadn’t set foot in the place since Phillipe was murdered.
Trapped grief pressed against his ribs, making his chest feel like it might burst. His heartbreak was fighting to get free, and for the first time in years, he wanted to let it out, wanted to lighten his burden, wanted to talk about his pain and loss. He wanted to share it with Rosemary.
She rubbed his arm again, and he pushed memory and heartache away. His feelings weren’t relevant. He had a job to do.
“Sorry. My mind wandered for a minute.”
She tugged the umbrella from his hand and splashed water toward him as she lowered it. Icy wet droplets bombarded his face.
“What was that for?” he demanded.
The exterior lights illuminated her teasing smile. “You looked sad. You needed a distraction.”
She was perceptive. Years of covert ops and undercover work had made his impassive mask a second skin, yet she’d seen his pain and acted to pull him back from that dangerous edge of guilt and despair.
This was only their second date, and already, she was reading him better than the bureau-assigned psychologist ever had.
He was going to have to be careful around her if he didn’t want to blow his cover.
He pushed open the door, and the sound of Noah Kahan singing about dialing drunk poured out.
A smile tugged at his lips, lightening his thoughts.
Some things never changed. You never knew what you’d hear at McGillin’s.
Sinatra, Nirvana, Post Malone, Morgan Wallen, Arrowsmith, The Cure, Dua Lipa, The Weekend.
It was a total crapshoot. Now, Noah Kahan was in the mix.
Rosemary sang along as they wound their way through the crowd. It was one more thing they had in common. They both hated Of Mice and Men and liked Noah Kahan. It was as good a place to start as any.
A burly man in a flannel shirt bumped into them and murmured apologies.
The place was packed. The crowd ran from college students to boomers, with everything in between, and way more off-duty cops than anyone other than the cops and bartenders realized.
When you did undercover work, no place was completely safe, but Moresco’s crew never strayed far from their south Philly stomping grounds, so for Phillipe and him, McGillin’s had felt like another planet.
A planet where they could relax and blow off steam.
Aleksei searched for the clearest path to the bar, and his gaze found the easy warmth of Samuel’s smile.
Samuel nodded at him and crooked a finger to call them forward, ignoring the sea of patrons jostling to order drinks.
Aleksei put his palm on the small of Rosemary’s back.
She’d slipped off her jacket, and the heat of her body warmed his cold hand.
He fought the desire to slide his fingers into the waistband of her dark jeans.
Instead, he kept his hand where it was and guided her to the side of the bar reserved for the waitstaff.
Samuel leaned across the bar and clenched his hand like a sailor pulling a shipmate into a lifeboat. “Hey, man. It’s good to see you. It’s been too long.”
It had been too long, and not long enough. Memories were deep here. Too deep for tonight. He couldn’t afford to be distracted when he was running the most important op of his life.
“Sorry I haven’t been back. I wanted to come, but I wasn’t ready. I didn’t even mean to come tonight. I just”—he shrugged—"ended up here.” He cocked his head to the side. “This is my friend, Rosemary.”
Samuel understood the words he hadn’t spoken. There would be no talk of Phillipe tonight.