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“In the eyes of the law he is,” I reminded him. “I don’t know what game he’s playing, but we need to keep an eye on him.”

“Do you think he knows?”

“No, he wouldn’t have been as cordial as he was. But time is running out, and we need to find fuckin’ Kelley and put him in the ground.”

“Ronan has feelers out. And I spoke to the tech guy in Sal’s kid’s club. Navigator or some shit. Why they can’t just use their names, I’ll never understand. Anyway, they’re having trouble locating Warren. He’s Kelley’s cousin.”

“This shit is getting old.”

“No, we’re getting fuckin’ old.” I laughed at Cian’s response and looked at Freyja again. She had the power to make me feel young, or fucking old as dirt. Time would tell which it would be.

“I gotta get back. Send me the information as soon as you have it.”

“Will do.”

This time, I disconnected the call without a goodbye. Placing the phone in my jacket pocket, I walked back to the table. Freyja’s smile when I returned melted away all the shit that was running through my head.

Sal’s warning, Maxim’s riddles, Kelley and Tyran’s betrayal. All of it was gone. All that was left was her.

“Sorry about that. I don’t normally make calls when I’m having dinner with a beautiful woman.”

“It’s not a problem. Though I do need to ask who Miss Kelley is? I don’t want to know her connection to Mr. Federov, only her connection to you.”

I smiled at the hint of jealousy I was picking up on. “Miss Kelley is my boss’ niece. Her and her mother were living in the city and recently moved back home.”

“And where is home?” she asked, her eyes locked onto mine.

“Boston.”

“Do you like living in Boston?”

“The only place I’ve ever known and the only place I’ll ever live.”

“I feel a little that way about New York City, but I am open to wherever the universe takes me.”

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my jacket. “I’m sorry,” I apologized, but opened the message anyway. I needed the information about this woman before we left the restaurant.

Skimming over the email, it told me everything I needed to know about Freyja Malpas. The oldest daughter of Woodlawn and Stephanie Malpas. She was thirty-four years old, thank God. Two younger sisters, Athena and Phoebe, as well as a younger brother, Dimeter.

Dimeter Malpas and Phoebe’s husband Shaw Dalton were both patched members of the Sons of Hell Motorcycle Club in Rosewood, Virginia.

Goddamn bikers were everywhere.

At least this club appeared to be on the up and up. Not that it mattered to me. I was in the Irish Mob. But if I was getting involved with a woman connected to a club, I wanted to know what kind of club they were.

I closed the email and put the phone back in my pocket.

“Did I pass?”

“I’m sorry?” I replied, my brow pulling in confusion.

“I assume the phone call and the email were to have me checked out. It’s ok. I’m not offended.”

“You aren’t?” I found that difficult to believe.

Freyja laughed. “Not at all. Before dinner tonight, my sister wanted to call my brother and have him look into you.”

“And did you?”