Page 159 of Restless Hawke

“Not shocked.”

“You think they’ve made up by now?”

He snorts. “I’m sure they have.”

“Where’s Jack?”

“She didn’t want to come tonight. Said she was tired and not feeling well.”

I glance over at Allegra, who’s watching the new dancer intently, completely unbothered by the fact that the song has sentimental meaning to us. “I’m sorry Jack isn’t feeling well. Did she go see Mom or Pope?”

Isaac shakes his head. “Nah. If she isn’t feeling better by tomorrow, I’ll have Mom come take a look at her, though. It’s probably nothing, just overly tired.”

“Has Gio been sleeping well?”

He snorts and accepts the beer Tommy brings him, tilting the bottle in thanks before he takes a swig of it. “Not really, but Vivi is old enough to go in and try to comfort him if he wakes up crying. Most nights, by the time we get in there, he’s already back asleep.”

“She’s a good big sister.”

Pride brightens his gaze, and he grins. “The best.” He leans around me, suddenly looking much more serious. “Hey, Allegra?”

She gets pulled from her viewing and turns to him. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

Something about the tone of his voice sets me on edge, and I protectively wrap an arm around her as she leans across me so she can hear him over the music.

“Yeah?”

“Well, I just got a call at the office a little while ago about somebody named Michael McDonald. Does that ring a bell?”

I feel her immediately stiffen, and her eyes go to that dark, steely gray they always do when she’s afraid.

“Why?”

Isaac catches on immediately. “One of our contacts said his name popped up on an international flight, and apparently, he’s on a list of known associates of your father. We’re monitoring any sort of movement for obvious reasons, especially with the opening of the second tower in a week.”

Suddenly, Allegra’s not the only one nervous.

I keep my arm wrapped around her, hoping she can’t feel how tense I’ve suddenly gotten. “Who is he?”

She swallows thickly. “Um, a guy who used to work for my dad.”

“How long ago?”

Shrugging, she chews on her bottom lip. “A couple of years, I guess?”

“What do you mean by ‘used to?’”

“Well, I haven’t heard anyone mention him in probably a year and a half. I assumed he either moved on or…”

She doesn’t finish the sentence.

But we both get the picture.

If he did anything to disappoint or piss off Satriano, he’s probably sleeping with the fishes right now.

Isaac drums his fingers against his beer bottle. “How well did you know him?”