The Enforcer - Kelli Callahan Page 0,10

why she did it. I mean, no one wants to feel weak or like they can’t go home.” She shrugs. “It’s how I felt when I was being targeted. I didn’t like the idea of being controlled, or that I would have to stay in hiding for God knows how long. That’s probably the most frustrating thing about it. Sitting and waiting.” She smiles at Noah. “I kind of gave you a hard time. Sorry about that.” She leans over and kisses him on the cheek.

Though Noah is a tough man by nature, it’s interesting to see the way he softens under Charlie’s gaze.

“Where is she now?” I ask, changing the subject as Charlie rises from the table to pull a pizza from the oven.

“I believe she’s still at the police station with Kenton,” Noah says, eyeing the pizza as it’s brought to the table.

“Was she hurt?” I ask, my words falling hollow.

“No, she wasn’t hurt, but Kenton is being stitched up,” Noah answers, reaching forward and taking a slice. He grimaces as he burns his fingers.

“That’s a shame,” I say, turning and looking at Charlie.

While I don’t like the idea of keeping company with cops; I know that if something happened to Chief Kenton Traverse, it would be a terrible loss for Charlie.

“Yes, I’m glad he’s doing okay. It just sounds like a couple of stitches,” she says. “I wanted to go and see him immediately, but he would have nothing of it, of course. Knowing him, he probably stitched himself up in the office.” She rolls her eyes and pours glasses of Coke.

“And they have no idea who did it?” I ask, irritated with how much I have to push for information as Noah bites down into the pizza.

“Not that I know of,” he says with a small frown. “I haven’t heard much, and I feel like a hit on the ex-wife of the mayor would make news for our kind.”

Noah sits quietly for a moment, and I wonder if he is struggling with being in the dark. No one likes being out of the loop, least of all the kingpin.

“So what are we gonna do about it?” I urge him on, hoping to inspire something within him. If we’re going to figure out what’s wrong, I need Noah in my corner.

“Well, I don’t know that it involves us,” he shrugs, taking another bite. “Charlie!” he yelps, scowling as a slap lands on his shoulder.

“Of course it does! How can you say that?” Charlie chides.

“What?” he asks, lines of frustration creasing his brow.

“How can you say that? How can you imply that you shouldn’t be involved in this? Someone shot at my father!” she says, rising from the table.

I have to admire her backbone. Few people speak to Noah like this. Perhaps that’s one of the benefits of being his girl. I muse on the idea, mildly entertained by the banter ensuing between them.

“I’m not saying I don’t care that your dad was shot up. Just that he’s a cop. He can cover his own back. Handle things himself,” he says, moving his chair closer to me and away from her. His eyes are wary of her hands and the spatula she just used on his shoulder.

“Noah,” she says carefully, her voice full of the frustration she is fighting to contain, “I need you to look into this for me. If someone’s after my dad, I won’t be able to rest until I know they’re behind bars.”

“I don’t think anyone’s after your dad,” he says, his voice calmer. “They’re probably after Diana, for God knows what reason.”

He’s always thoughtful.

“If they’re after Diana, then they’re after my dad because he will do anything to protect the innocent,” she sniffs as Noah glances quickly to the ceiling.

I wonder if he’s suppressing an eye roll.

“Are you saying I don’t care about the innocent?”

“I’m saying you care for a select few of the innocent.”

“Well, that’s better I guess,” he mumbles, taking a bite of pizza. “I care about you tonight,” he winks.

“No, come on,” she says.

“Alright, alright,” he says, dropping his pizza and walking to the kitchen for a napkin. “I’ll see what I can do. Though if I’m honest, Charlie, I’m a little concerned that we didn’t hear about this before it happened,” Noah says, glancing over at me.

“Leave it to Charlie to soften the heart of a drug lord,” I grin at her, appreciating her support.

“He’s reformed,” she says, turning away from me.

“Sorry, a reformed drug lord. Hell― leave it