Page 92 of Restless Hawke

Evidenced by my current inability to even watch the show outside with any hint of joy.

Bishop observes me from her seat across the table from me. “Are you going to be like this the whole trip?”

Fingering my glass, I scowl at her. “You didn’t have to come with me.”

She raises a brow. “To Vegas or to dinner?”

“Either.”

She snorts and swirls her fruity drink before she takes a sip and tosses her long braids over her bare shoulder, exposed in the silvery thin-strapped dress that hugs her toned body. “Yeah, right. Like anyone, including me, was going to let you leave town again without an escort.”

Tonight, she doesn’t look like she’s working as my bodyguard. She’s ready to go out on the town, even though she knows full well I never do the night before a tournament.

A nice dinner.

Perhaps a few drinks.

Then to bed early so I’m prepared for what will meet me at the table.

I pull my glass to my lips and take a long drink. “You mean a fuckingbabysitter.”

She grins. “Same thing, isn’t it?” Leaning back slightly in her chair, she tips her drink toward me. “And maybe if you hadn’t run last time, you wouldn’t need one.”

Smartass.

I scowl at her and return to watching the water show. At leastitcan’t talk back and point out very accurate facts that I don’t want to be reminded of. Like that Satriano got to me so easily less than a week ago when I should have been untouchable—something Gabe, Saint, and Bishop have been looking into almost non-stop since.

“Did you or your dad ever figure out how Satriano got into my building?”

It’s a low blow, a dig at her ability to actuallydothis job, and she knows it. But Bishop doesn’t ruffle easily—if at all.

She lets it roll off her back. “No…which is why we changed the code for the elevator in your building and your condo. The best guess from the tech guy, as of when I talked to Dad earlier today, was that Satriano somehow hacked the digital system, got in through the back door, and used a skeleton code to get up.”

That’s comforting.

I’m about to tell her as much when Bishop issues a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned…”

The surprise in Bishop’s voice draws my attention from the window and toward her, but she isn’t looking at me.

She’s watching the front of the restaurant, and I follow her gaze.

My heart stops for a second, then begins to beat rapidly as Allegra approaches, weaving her way through the tables and around waitresses and waiters, the slit in her slinky red dress revealing her entire leg with each step.

Good God…

I down the rest of my drink and motion to our waiter for another one as she reaches us, but she doesn’t look at me.

She focuses on Bishop, offering her a genuine smile—or at least I think it is. It’s almost impossible to tell ifanythingis genuine with this woman. “Bishop, it’s nice to see you again.”

Bishop raises her brows slowly at Allegra, then glances over at me. She may not have any idea what really happened between us earlier this week, but given my foul mood before we came—and now—she must have a pretty good guess. “Is it?”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Allegra finally allows her gaze to slide to mine. “But I figured you’d be here the night before the tournament, and I hoped we could talk.”

It’s my turn to raise a brow at her. “Talk?”

There are so many things I would love to say to this woman, that Iwouldhave if she hadn’t disappeared from my arms, my bed, my condo, my fucking city like a damn thief in the night.

Even with my people trying to locate her, they didn’t have any luck.