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“I have to go, but don’t tell him about this.” Dad hangs up, and then I look at my phone.

Shit, I’m out of time. I rush down the stairs, coming to a stop at the voices in the living room. Seamus must be back because he’s talking.

“No, Cal, I swear I saw him?—”

“He’s starting to be seen. Good. I want my hands on O’Sullivan. Put word out that he’s to be brought to me.” Callahan’s voice holds that dark and deadly tone that makes me shiver, makes me glad he’s not out to get me.

“I’ll help find him, Cal,” Declan says.

There’s a snarl, followed by a bark and something hits the wall. “Are you fucking insane, Dec? You keep the fuck away from any search. We’re luring him out, not starting a war. I don’t want a war with Paddy. I want him gone from this planet. By my hand.” There’s a pause. “You’re on Arnold duty.I’m taking my wife out for the afternoon. Tonight, I’ll be on the hunt.”

That sends icicles shooting down to my toes.

“You sure you wanna do that?” Seamus asks Callahan.

“He’ll protect her,” Torin says. “I’ll get started on the info you want.”

“Lucie’s safe with me. Aren’t you, Lucie Joy?”

I grit my teeth. Of course he knows I’m there. I step out from behind a column and into the living room, narrowly missing Clawzilla, who hisses and takes cover between Arnold’s feet.

“Who’s O’Sullivan?” I’ve asked this before and expect the same nonanswer as before, which is exactly what I get.

“We’re going out.” Callahan meets Torin’s gaze. “I want any haunts that might be viable.”

Callahan takes my bag, leaves it on the coat rack, and rushes me out and into a waiting town car with Clive behind the wheel.

He doesn’t tell me where we’re going, but it’s clear when we arrive in SoHo and head into a designer clothing store. Callahan’s all business as he picks things out and piles them up, then he slaps a credit card down on the counter. Once everything’s bagged and delivered to the car, he takes me to four more places and I follow, quietly fuming.

It isn’t that the shops don’t have gorgeous things with even more outrageous price tags than the ones I saw when I went out with Declan, it’s just…

Shoes, lingerie, bags, coats, casual wear, tops, and one—one—pair of pants, along with an array of beautiful dresses, and I’m like a passenger, a bystander.

No input. No say.

“What’s that face for, Lucie Joy?” he asks as he casually holds his credit card out for the excited shop girl.

I narrow my eyes at her because I think some of her excitement is coming from her close proximity to Callahan, whom she can’t have. He’s mine.

He smiles slow and comes close. “I asked a question,” he murmurs in my ear. “Why are you looking out of sorts?” He licks my ear and I swallow a small moan. “Although I know what the second face was for. Don’t worry, these eyes are just for you.”

I turn into him, slide a hand down from his waist to his crotch, and grip his cock. “That’s not my worry.”

“That’s for you, too.”

I let him go. And when she’s rung up the sale and packaged everything, Clive comes in to help Callahan take the rest to the car.

By the time we finish at the sixth shop, evening approaches. He keeps checking his watch as the places and streets start to empty.

Once we’re outside, I cross my arms and turn to him. “Why did you bring me if you were going to choose everything?”

“I’ve got taste, love.”

“One of those dresses was see-through.” I know it’s meant to be worn with a body stocking or something, but I don’t care.

He takes my hand, threads his fingers with mine, and says, “I never said I had good taste. Come on.”

Callahan drags me over to Wooster Street, not caring that Clive has to drive a block to follow us.