Bloody Heart (Brutal Birthright #4) - Sophie Lark Page 0,52

said, ‘Yes please—slowly, with a pickaxe.’ But it was all in good fun, your honor. The fact that he slipped and fell on a pickaxe later that night was completely coincidental . . .”

We head down to the cafe on the ground floor of her building. It’s a clean, bright space, with pastries delivered fresh three times a day. They get the orders out in minutes—an absolute must for all the lawyers on the clock. Riona’s firm shares the building with several other law groups, so everybody in here looks busy, grumpy, and ready to file an injunction if they didn’t get the right amount of foam on their latte.

I order a sandwich, Riona a coffee and croissant. When I try to pay for both orders, she cuts across me with her credit card at the ready.

“I’ve got to treat you,” she says matter-of-factly, “because I’m trying to butter you up.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s nothing terrible . . .”

“I bet.”

I follow her over to the nearest open table. She sits across from me, folding her hands in front of her in the way I know means she’s about to make her pitch.

“My brother’s speaking at a rally,” Riona says. “It’s for the Freedom Foundation. I want you to handle security for the event. You’d be working with the mayor’s team.”

“Okay . . .” I say, wondering what the favor is, exactly. “I’m not some kind of security expert though . . .”

“I know,” Riona says. “I just want someone from our own family there. The team they hired is going to be focused on the mayor, primarily, and the speaker as well. I want somebody keeping an eye on Callum.”

Callum is her big brother, the one married to Aida. I’ve got almost as much motivation to keep him safe as Riona does. Which is why I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The barista comes over with Riona’s croissant and my sandwich. I take a big bite of my BLT. Riona leaves her food untouched, wanting to finish our conversation before she eats.

“It’s on Saturday,” she says. “You’d be overseeing the set-up and supervising the event. The mayor wants to make sure we’re careful, because the speaker has received several death threats over the last few months.”

“Who is it?” I ask bluntly.

Riona doesn’t beat around the bush. “Yafeu Solomon,” she says.

I set down my sandwich. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You don’t have to talk to him,” Riona says. “He probably won’t even see you.”

Riona is aware of my former interactions with the Solomon family. Other than my siblings, she’s one of the only people who knows.

I sit silent, thinking.

If it were anybody else asking me, I’d just tell them no. I have no interest in being around Yafeu Solomon, and especially not in protecting him. In fact, if I saw some assassin rushing him with a knife, I’d be tempted to simply step aside.

But I do owe Riona a favor.

That’s why she’s asking. A good lawyer never asks a question where they don’t already know the answer.

I sigh. “Who do I contact from the mayor’s office?”

Riona lets herself smile, just for a second, pleased that she successfully roped me in.

“His name’s John Peterson,” she says, texting me his number. “He’s already expecting your call.”

I almost want to laugh. “Of course he is.”

“You know I like to have my ducks lined up,” Riona says. She checks her watch. “I better get back upstairs.”

“You didn’t eat.”

“I’ll take it with me.”

She picks up the croissant in a napkin, keeping her fingers clean, then takes a quick sip of her coffee.

“Thank you, Dante,” she says.

“How many more favors do I owe you ‘till we’re square?”

She laughs. “I don’t know—what’s twenty-five years to life worth?”

“I guess at least one or two more.”

She gives me a little wave and heads back toward the elevators.

I stay put so I can finish my sandwich. No sense letting good food go to waste.

23

Simone

Driving around downtown Chicago sets my nerves on edge.

I don’t know if the city changed, or if my memories are off. In my mind, the city had a kind of late afternoon golden glow—all the glass in the high rises illuminated like a sunset. I remembered the lake and the river, clean and blue, and the gorgeous Art Deco architecture in between.

Now a bunch of the luxury shops along the Magnificent Mile have been boarded up, probably because of the riots and protests over the summer, and the whole city looks dingier and dirtier