Tristan
My dad calls me right as I finish up a meeting with a potential client.
“Hi,” I say, heading out of an upscale bistro that the customer wanted to meet at. Their contract calls for several high-profile events this coming fall and will bring in a lot of revenue.
“Hi,” Dad says, and from the whack of his knife, I assume he’s in the kitchen. It’s around three o'clock, which is his preferred snack time. “I’m calling to inform you I’ve put the house on the market.”
“Dad.” I take a deep breath. “Are you sure?”
“You know I am. The question is, are you still going to be stubborn and not take me up on my offer?”
“Dad, you just retired a year ago. Don’t you want your own space instead of crashing at your sister’s? I’ve survived in this city, renting. I can keep on surviving.”
There’s another whack of the knife. “So you’re still going to be stubborn.”
“No, it’s not that.” I weave through pedestrian traffic, debating about heading to the bridal boutique. It’s my professional duty to check in on Isolde. I guess Lennie’s going through with the wedding despite already marrying Elijah. “I want to make sure you’re truly okay with this.”
My father makes a noise under his breath, illustrating his offense. “I know what I’m okay with. I want this for you, Tristan.”
My eyes close briefly, the phone hot against my ear. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I’m not imagining his surprise at my sudden acceptance.
“I. . . I asked Isolde to move in with me,” I admit, sharing details about my life in a way I haven’t with my father in a long time.
I’ve been looking for places the past week.
Finding the perfect spot is hard in this city, but I’m not presenting a single spot to Isolde until it passes my vigorous checklist. I know her apartment means a lot to her.
She values her independence, and she hates change.
I not only need to find the perfect replacement but also present it to her at the right time.
There’s no noise from the other side. He’s stopped making whatever snack he was creating.
“I’ll give you your mother’s ring the next time you come over.”
“What, Dad, no!”
“Is it not the style anymore?” The ring Dad gave my mom is humble, but the sentimental value is high. But it’s also a whole other thing.
“We’re not getting married.” I check my wristwatch, accepting that I’m walking toward the boutique whether I like it or not.
“But you’re moving in together.”
I don’t want to call my dad old-fashioned, but he catches on.
“You want to provide shelter for this woman, but you don’t want to marry her?” he questions.
My fingers tighten around the phone. “That’s not it.”
Not in the slightest, as I realize what we’re discussing. My future with Isolde doesn’t end with the two of us in a new place.
“It’s early.” I cross the street.
“Luis told me you two have known each other a long time.”
“As friends, Dad.” And even that’s debatable because at the time I thought she annoyed me.
“Okay, but now she’s your girlfriend.”
I bite my tongue. Technically, nothing has been discussed. I’m not about to tell my dad about our arrangement.
Because honestly, it’s beyond sex now anyway. I asked her to move in with me, and that’s not a step I take lightly. No sex in the world could make me lose my mind that much.
I want to live with her. To be around her.
There’s not a woman I’d rather discuss guns with. But I also enjoy the silent moments. When we’re reading in the evenings. I’ll watch her walk around in a giant T-shirt all day, her legs on display.
“Dad, living together is the next right step,” I say.
He makes another noise under his breath.
“Chalk it up to a generational thing.” It’s the only olive branch I’ve got.
“Honestly, I’m disappointed.”
Dad doesn’t know how his words hit me. That I carry around guilt and fear that I am a massive disappointment to my father. But then he continues.
“Isolde shouldn’t put up with this.”
“What?”
“She shouldn’t put up with it.”
“Do you mean. . . me?” I frown, crossing at another light.
“She’s a woman of incredible strength. I saw it the other night. How she listens and how serious her eyes are.”
I smile as I listen to my dad speak about my girl.
“She could have anyone she wanted,” Dad continues. “She doesn’t need to move in with a man who doesn’t respect her enough to want to marry her.”
“Dad, we are not getting married.” A breath tears out of me before I add, “Yet."
I have never half-assed anything in my life. Something animalistic rears in my head at the thought of Isolde wearing a ring I put on her finger.
She’s mine.
The noise Dad makes under his breath is a touch more approving. “I’ll let you know about the house. The realtor expects several offers.”
“Thanks, Dad. I love you.”
“Same, Tristan, same.”
There’s something lighter in my step after getting off the phone with him. During the years I worked for the Irish and then as the Ghost, I’d stopped talking about so many things with my dad. I realize how much I’ve missed him.
Call it a sign from God, but I pass a cathedral and debate going in to light a candle. I could light one for my mom, knowing she’d love that.
Instead I answer when Luis calls, not expecting his crush of words. “There’s been an attempt on Blue, gunshot wound, we’re taking her to a safe house now. I’ve already called Tyler.”
Tyler beats me to the safe house in Queens.
Standing next to him is an Irish bastard I thought I’d never see again.
“What the fuck?” I fist my hand in Ian Hayes's shirt, pushing him into the back of the couch.
“Woah, woah, woah, cuz.” Luis appears at my side, trying to tug me away from the Irish guy.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, aware of the adrenaline coursing through me since I answered Luis’s phone call. I don’t particularly care if it makes me look like an asshole in front of Ian.
Ian raises his arms in surrender. I let go, and he crashes back into the sofa, letting out an aggrieved sigh.
He speaks in his typical slow drawl. Unless he’s drunk on his ass in a pub and singing a song, all his movements are lazy.
“What the hell happened?” I round on my cousin, grabbing his shirt this time.
Terror flashes across his face, and I let go. He steps back, placing a hand directly over the spot I just grabbed him.
“Isolde’s fine,” Tyler says, inserting himself between me and my cousin. “One gunshot wound, through and through. No major damage to any organs.”
“What else?” I don’t need Tyler to sugarcoat it right now.
Tyler’s mouth opens and closes like he’s debating what he wants to say. “A broken nose. It looks worse than it is.”
“Who the fuck broke her nose?”
Tyler shoots me a look, eyeing the door he just came out of. Pangs of nerves run down me, and I steady my breathing. Isolde doesn’t need a fire-breathing dragon right now. When I step into that room, she needs peace and healing.
Peace and healing.
My fists clench, every nerve ending in me crackling, as I stifle the urge to throttle everything around me.
There’s a snap. A click. Ian plays with a lighter in his hand. “Guy walks up to her in an alleyway. She went willingly with him.”
I frown at Luis.
“I get a text from Blue saying she spotted a target and was going to make a move,” Luis explains. “It seemed off, so I went outside, and that’s when I found Ian.”
I blink, remembering Ian and Luis have met before. I kept my cousin as far away from the Irish as possible, but there was one drunken night.
“Why was she outside alone?” I ask my cousin. “And why the fuck were you around?” I ask Ian.
“Oh, I needed to speak to her,” he replies, like that accurately supplies any information whatsoever.
“She needed a second,” Luis says.
“What?”
Fire flickers from Ian’s lighter. If he tries to light up in here, I’m going to kill him.
“All I saw was this tall, ugly fucker walking up to her,” Ian says. “She got in the car willingly.”
“I managed to get in the car and follow,” Luis says.
“And you came along?” I ask Ian.
“I told you I needed to talk to her,” he replies.
“We hit the highway, headed toward an airfield.” Luis pauses, his face glitching. He glances at Tyler. And Ian. Anywhere but me. “I-I’m sorry. We didn’t get there—”
The fire inside me is killed by the cold sheet of terror. “What happened?”
“She took him out herself,” Ian says. “After he tried to strangle her.”
He got close enough to strangle her.
Tyler clears his throat. I hadn’t noticed him inch closer to me. “You’ll notice bruising on her neck. It’ll probably be sore. A lot of her will be sore,” he adds a second later, clapping my shoulder. “But she’s okay.”
“You don’t believe that,” the pessimist in me says.
A cautious expression clouds his face. “I’d be remiss as a doctor if I didn’t advise you to get her to a hospital. This isn’t like the bullet grazing.”
I choose to focus on work. “What do we know about the guy? What else?”
Clothes rumpled, face exhausted, Luis leans up against a wall. “I called Antonio to move the body. I talked to Leon.”
Luis shrugs his shoulders, not defending his actions. I nod, telling him it’s okay. I’m not mad about owing Leon a favor this once.
“We all agreed not to involve Elias,” Luis says, tugging a string in my heart. Another right call by my cousin. Elias is young, and he doesn’t need to be pulled too far into the shadows just yet.
“Good, okay.” I rub my forehead, keeping my voice calm so Luis understands I’m not going to chew him out again.
“There’s the issue of the plane,” he adds.
My neck cracks as I roll it around.
“There wasn’t a pilot,” Luis says. “And the airfield was empty. But. . .”
I get his point. Moving a body is one thing, but what the fuck do we do with a private airplane ready and waiting to go?
I glance at Tyler, who shrugs, at a loss too.
“You’re sure there was no pilot?” I ask.
“No, but there was a pair of handcuffs,” Ian says, indicating he had a mosey through the plane. “I’d say the guy knew how to fly and planned on keeping her locked up.”
“Any ideas?” I ask them, needing to know who this fucker is. I turn to Tyler. “A triggerman with their pilot’s license?”