my apartment, my phone starts going off like she has some telepathic radar that I’m alone and she can invade.
On my way over.
Oh, hell no. My thumbs are flying on the screen before I can even think.
Not now. Sleep. We’ll catch up later. ‘K?
She doesn’t respond, so I say a quick prayer that she’s given her tacit agreement and head to my bathroom and rinse off with a quick shower before putting on sweats and a tank top.
Plopping on the couch, I stare into space, trying to process everything that’s going on in my life, hoping that sleep will visit if I stay still enough.
Bam, bam. Pause two three. Bam, bam, bam.
Motherfucker.
She didn’t.
When the pattern repeats, I get off the couch with a huff, ripping the door open.
“Not now, Claire. I said later.”
My sister stands there, not even bothering to look chagrined or remorseful at ignoring my request. “Don’t even start with me. You go to dinner with a mobster on the FBI’s most wanted list, disappear with no contact for the night, and then try to blow me off when you get home. Sleep later, bitch.”
Without another word, and giving zero shits who might have heard her, she shoves her way inside.
Her partner, Matt, follows along behind her, not quite like a trailing puppy, but he at least shrugs apologetically before settling in on my couch to watch the show.
They’re both dressed for work, not quite casual, not quite formal, but somewhere in between. Claire’s in slacks, a slim-fit button-up, and flat boots, and Matt’s in khakis and a polo.
No shit.
He looks like he’s here to fix my computer, and Claire looks like she’s here to string me up by my toes, though that has more to do with the look on her face than her wardrobe.
“So tell me everything.”
I sigh, going into the kitchen. “Coffee?”
The offer is to both of them, but it’s mostly because if I’m going to get into this with Claire, I need reinforcements. And maybe a paring knife.
Matt smiles, but Claire snorts. “Get on with it. Work and talk.”
She’s bossy, just like she’s always been. That’s what big sisters do. I have a flashback of Nathan and Caleb fighting and try to imagine Claire and me having a big knock-down, drag-out fight these days.
Looking at her, I can’t imagine it. For one, she’d kick my ass and never break a sweat. My sis is a machine, a fully-trained FBI agent who could probably kill three men with a fucking pencil if she tried.
Me . . . well, as I pour three mugs of coffee, setting one down for Matt on the coffee table, I’ve handed out pretty much my deadliest weapon. With a small smile, graciousness pounded in my habits by my mom, I step back. “Enjoy.”
I hand Claire’s to her, but she sets hers down on the table without even taking a sniff. I wish she’d kept it in her hands because at least if she was holding hot coffee, she couldn’t get after me too much.
That white blouse isn’t made for coffee, that’s for sure.
Not that I think she’s going to fight with me like the guys did, but she’s been known to gesture a bit too much to prove a point. And I’m expecting her to have several points to prove during this conversation.
I take a sip, letting the burning caffeine wake me up and prepare me for what I need to tell her. “Okay, so dinner with Nikolai last night. We went to Romano’s and were surprised that Nikolai brought a date, Maritziana. She’s one of the other hostesses. They seem to have hit it off. Dinner conversation was more about Nathan and me. Nik seemed to get a kick out of taunting us.”
I frown, knowing that’s not really helpful to her anyway.
“And what about their deal? What they’d say about that? Do you know what Nathan’s up to? Because I’m damn sure it’s not about spreading Daddy Stone’s ashes.”
She looks to Matt, who nods his agreement with her assessment. He’s quiet but watching shrewdly, carefully taking in every word I say.
I shake my head, glad that so, far we’re sticking to dinner. The hard part’s later, I’m sure. “I didn’t hear any of that. They talked business when Maritziana and I went to the ladies’ room. I don’t know, though Caleb said something about ‘Dad’s mess’ this morning.”
Shiiiiiit.
I definitely didn’t mean to say that.
Not surprisingly, Claire gloms onto it like a dog with a juicy steak. “This morning? Is