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I swallow hard and walk into the living room right as the study door opens, then sharply closes. Callahan suddenly appears dressed all in black and my knees wobble at the sight of him.

Fuck my life.

“I’ll be back later tonight.”

“What are you?—?”

But he’s gone before my question hits the air and the front door slams.

“Asshole,” I mutter.

Declan wanders in a few minutes later. “I’m going to play this awesome new alien zombie game if you want to join.”

“No, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” he says, shrugging.

And he disappears, too.

With a sigh, I call Dad.

“Oh good, Lucia, you finally called back. Meet me for lunch at Capato on West Fifty-Ninth. I’ll send Mikey to pick you up.”

Before I can say a word, he hangs up.

I look down the hall, my shoulders slumped, the sound of zombie screams and gunshots piercing the air. I quickly slide on a pair of shoes and scoop up my handbag before quietly letting myself out of the house to wait for Mikey.

Dad must have had him waiting nearby because he pulls up as soon as I near the curb. I get in and we head uptown.

I keep looking out the back window to see if there’s another car following, but it’s too difficult to tell. The roads are jammed with cars, buses, and cabs.

When we arrive at the restaurant, Mikey rushes around the car to open my door. We don’t exchange any words, but his smile is genuine, and for some reason, it makes me want to hug him. It also makes me wonder if he helped Viv get away.

On second thought, probably not. Crossing my father is a little like crossing Callahan. It’s a freaking dangerous thing to do.

Dad’s waiting in the back. He sees me walk inside, stands, and hugs me as I greet him.

It shocks me a little.

Dad must want something because he’s never affectionate with me and certainly not in public. So I sit. And wait.

“I ordered a salad for you.”

I press my lips together, but the words of annoyance bubble out anyway. “I don’t want a salad. I want the filet mignon and truffle shoestring fries.”

“No one wants a fat girl, and if this doesn’t work out, I’ll be marrying you off a second time. So watch your figure.”

I glare at my father but resist the urge to address his comments that burn my blood. And most definitelynotin the good way. “You wanted something?”

“We’ll eat first.”

“Dad… Cal doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Good.”

Now I frown. “Good? You made a deal with him. I don’t think you should cross him. And… I have to ask.” I take a breath. “Do you know someone named Paddy? Are you doing deals with the Russians now? Even I know that’s a bad move.”

His features darken as if a storm cloud eclipses his head. “That isn’t any of your business. But,” he says, leaning closer, his eyes narrowing, “what do you know about this?”