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“I am bad, and I’m no cop,” I fire back. “Don’t have me there, unless you’re prepared for bloodshed.”
Mason has been quiet, his gaze moving between us, as Triston bangs the table. “I know you’re capable of controlling yourself, Kill. I refuse to believe you can’t.”
I grit my teeth together, curling my lip. “My control is not the problem. It’s his. He put his hands on her twice and I won’t let that slide. Ask me again, Triston, and we’re going to have a problem.”
Mason clears his throat. “I am very grateful for the way you’ve handled yourself, Killian.”
I look at the other man, expecting to find him smirking, or at least to know that he’s patronizing me, but complete sincerity fills his gaze. I blink in surprise.
“The fact that you held off on killing Preston, gathering scores of intel on the Russians, and then managed to make Preston’s death appear accidental, have both been advantageous to us.”
I give a quick jerk of my chin to acknowledge his compliment.
“But I would just like to add that taking your time with Alexander will also be to our benefit.”
My fist clenches against my thigh. “I don’t?—”
“I need to divide the Russians and the Italians again, and I can’t do that if you attack now. You’ll have your chance once we’ve made them enough promises that they cease their collaboration. Then we’ll drop the bomb on both of them—separately.”
I see his point. It’s an excellent strategy, but Alexander threatened my woman. I know we’ve put some protective measures around Chloe, but I won’t really breath easily until I know Alexander is no longer a player in our world.
But before I can argue the point, my phone rings, Rush’s name coming up on the screen.
“Yeah?” I pick up before the phone has completed one full ring.
“I fucked up.”
“What happened?” I’m out of my chair and striding toward the door, ignoring the concerned stares from both Mason and Triston.
“Killian?” Triston calls after me, but I ignore him, as I leave the conference room and start down the hall. He can fire me if he doesn’t like it.
“I think it’s bad,” Rushton half whispers.
“What’s bad?” I grit into the phone.
“I told Chloe that you whacked Preston.”
I stop dead in the middle of the hall. “What the fuck did you just say?”
Triston runs into my back. Fucker must have followed me. I turn to give him a snarling glare. He’s close enough that he must hear Rush’s next words. “We were talking about you, and I mentioned that she’s been good for you except for…”
“Rush,” I snap, scrubbing a hand down my face. “How did she react?”
“She locked herself in your master bathroom.”
“Fuck!” I yell, my voice echoing down the hallway.
“What happened?” Triston asks, his voice dropping low.
But I don’t answer. This sick dread fills my chest. How will Chloe react to what she’s learned?
“I’m sorry, Killian. I was trying to tell her that you seemed more animated than you’ve been in years, but then I fucked up and told her about your?—”
I hang up the phone as I see Triston’s gaze narrow, his nostrils flaring. And a new worry fills my chest. Chloe knowing about some of the illegal shit we do is a problem.
Turning away without a word, I stride down the hall. Talking has never been my strong suit, and I don’t try now.
Triston follows. “What does Chloe know? What did Rush say?”