Bailed Out (The Anna Albertini Files #2) - Rebecca Zanetti Page 0,112

lawyer, I’d hang up on her, however. That woman deserved jail time, and there was no way I’d defend her. Ever.

I sighed and moved the food around on my plate.

Pauley looked my way. “Has Aiden not called?”

“No.” Would he call? I’d had more than one bad thought about him being undercover again and not making contact for another ten years. The thought made everything inside me hurt like I’d been gutted like a trout. I must really look miserable for Pauley to guess what was wrong with me.

“That is too bad.” Today Pauley wore his customary white shirt and beige pants. Our table was toward the river in my folks’ backyard, set off slightly from the hustle and bustle, and beneath a sweeping tree that provided shade. There were three chairs, and different people joined us different days.

Tessa moved our way, fury in her eyes.

“Uh oh,” Pauley said, looking down at his chicken salad on a paper plate.

She stormed up. “I can not believe you did this to me.”

I opened my eyes really wide. “What? I didn’t invite him.” I looked over to where Nick Basanelli and his grandma ate at a long picnic table along with our Nonna Albertini. “Nonna and his Grams are old friends who play Bridge every week,” I said. “This is her doing.” Since Tessa would never mess with Nonna, I didn’t feel bad about throwing her under the bus.

Tessa faltered. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Contessa Fiona,” Nonna called out. “Come eat. I saved you a spot.” Right next to her and across from Nick.

I barely kept from smiling. It was difficult, but I did it.

Tessa rolled her eyes, plastered on a smile, and turned to walk toward the table.

“I do not know how, but I have no doubt you engineered that situation,” Pauley observed, eating his salad once again. “Tessa has a temper and likes getting revenge. You should remember that.”

“If she ends up happy, then she won’t want revenge,” I said reasonably. My gaze caught on Uncle Sean and Clark near a tree with a pad of paper stuck to it by an arrow. They diagrammed, sat back, discussed wildly, and then drew more on the paper. “I’d go save Clark, but he looks as engrossed as Uncle Sean.”

Pauley looked up. “They are planning next week’s tournament up in Sandpoint.”

I frowned. “How do you plan a golf tournament? You hit the ball and try to get it in the hole.”

Pauley turned back to his food, obviously finished with the conversation.

A slight twittering came from the kitchen, and then Aiden walked out onto the deck with Donna smiling at his side. My mom, the ultimate hostess, immediately stood to greet him. He held out a bouquet of flowers for her.

I gaped and my heart went all mushy. “Aiden brought my mom flowers.”

Pauley looked up. “Aiden brought your Irish mom Irish roses.”

Oh, I melted right then and there.

Mom and Donna escorted Aiden to the buffet table and started piling food on a plate. He looked over his shoulder at me, his eyes pleading for help, but I just smiled. Yeah, he should’ve called.

“You should rescue him,” Pauley advised.

“Ha. He’s a big and tough ATF Special Agent in Charge. He can handle it,” I said, liking how his ears turned red.

When they brought him over to my table, there was a promise of retribution in his eyes. Instead of giving me warning, it intrigued me and might’ve turned me on a little. “Welcome back,” I said.

“Thanks.” He took the third chair and accepted the napkin from my mom. “Thank you, Mrs. O’Shea.”

She patted his shoulder. “It’s Moira, Aiden. You know that.” She barely kept the hop out of her step as she walked across the grassy yard to her table.

“The flowers were a nice touch,” I said.

“Hi, Aiden,” Pauley said.

Aiden smiled. “Hi, Pauley. Heard you got a job at Anna’s firm. You sure you want that kind of danger?” He looked pointedly at the bandage poking out of my shirt from my shoulder wound.

Pauley smiled and put his napkin on his plate. “Probably not. Now I am going to play X-Box with Donna. Bye.” He stood and maneuvered his way back into the house.

My dad made it five minutes before coming over to shake Aiden’s hand. My dad was a miner, and a miner could break a hand with a shake. Aiden made it through without wincing, and by the end of the extra-long shake, there was respect shining in my dad’s eyes. He handed Aiden a beer, welcomed