disappointment with a bright smile. “They’re wondering if you’re carrying. Or if you’re my lawyer.”
Daniel glanced around, noting the absence of conversation nearby, and the presence of speculation. “It’s the suit.” He shifted slightly, enough to let his jacket gape open and prove to the other diners that he wasn’t armed. “I came straight from work.”
“Even though you didn’t want to.”
“I shouldn’t be here, and neither should you.” He’d tried to explain that to her on the phone, but she’d been insistent. Since he knew firsthand just how stubborn she could be, he’d given in to the inevitable. That didn’t mean they had to be there any longer than necessary.
“We’re perfectly safe here,” she said.
“You’ve been away for a long time.”
“I still consider this my home, even though I wanted more.”
And she’d gotten it. Married into it, rather briefly as she’d been widowed less than two years in. She’d decided to stay in that other world at first, and then she hadn’t really had a choice . . .
“You’re thinking of Bobby, aren’t you?” She closed the menu, placing it just so on the table. “I could tell by the pity.”
“It’s not pity, it’s regret. If I’d handled the situation differently, he never would have gotten a shot at me to begin with.”
“You didn’t have a choice. Neither did I. Bobby chose, and the rest of us had to react accordingly.”
Not quite true, Daniel thought. He’d stumbled upon Bobby Flynn dealing to the neighborhood kids. He should have backed off, he should have let local law enforcement handle the situation. Instead he’d blundered in, determined to save at least a couple of youngsters from drug addiction. All he’d done was get himself shot and help Bobby Flynn graduate from small-time dealing to attempted murder. He’d ruined his own career, and ultimately he’d gotten Bobby killed.
“So . . . You haven’t asked me why I was so determined to keep our date tonight.” Patrice waited a beat, smiling at his reaction. “Your virtue is safe from me.”
“My virtue is long gone.”
“That’s even better.”
Okay, now he was beginning to get uncomfortable. “You were about to explain why we’re here.”
“You already met him,” she said.
Daniel followed her gaze to the bar, where Joe Flynn was standing a group of men to a round of beers.
“He’s moving to unite the mob,” Patrice said, leaning forward to keep her voice down. “I thought you’d want to know, considering what happened the other night.”
“Flynn said as much to me a few minutes ago,” Daniel told her, “but I don’t see what it has to do with the other night.”
“Taking out an assistant U.S. attorney would buy a lot of street credibility.”
“Owning one would be better, especially one who used to be an FBI agent. That’s if he can even pull off a coup like uniting the mob, which I doubt.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Patrice said, sitting back in her seat. “He’s making big promises. Some of the families are listening.”
“Shit,” Daniel said and would have apologized if he hadn’t said it under his breath.
“He’s talking about stepping into the void that’ll be left when you put Tony Sappresi in jail.”
This time Daniel kept his one-syllable reaction to himself. “I’m sure the Mafia has already decided how they’re going to fill that void.” Which, if Flynn got what he wanted, meant Boston was going to suffer a crime wave that would make the eighties seem like a grade-school dodge ball tournament. Most of the casualties would come from the ranks of organized crime, but a whole lot of innocent citizens could get caught in the line of fire.
“Isn’t that the woman from the other night?”
“Huh?” Daniel focused on Patrice’s face again, then twisted around to see what she was looking at. And there, peering in the front window of the pub, was Vivi. “Yeah,” he said, facing forward again, even
Daniel glanced around, noting the absence of conversation nearby, and the presence of speculation. “It’s the suit.” He shifted slightly, enough to let his jacket gape open and prove to the other diners that he wasn’t armed. “I came straight from work.”
“Even though you didn’t want to.”
“I shouldn’t be here, and neither should you.” He’d tried to explain that to her on the phone, but she’d been insistent. Since he knew firsthand just how stubborn she could be, he’d given in to the inevitable. That didn’t mean they had to be there any longer than necessary.
“We’re perfectly safe here,” she said.
“You’ve been away for a long time.”
“I still consider this my home, even though I wanted more.”
And she’d gotten it. Married into it, rather briefly as she’d been widowed less than two years in. She’d decided to stay in that other world at first, and then she hadn’t really had a choice . . .
“You’re thinking of Bobby, aren’t you?” She closed the menu, placing it just so on the table. “I could tell by the pity.”
“It’s not pity, it’s regret. If I’d handled the situation differently, he never would have gotten a shot at me to begin with.”
“You didn’t have a choice. Neither did I. Bobby chose, and the rest of us had to react accordingly.”
Not quite true, Daniel thought. He’d stumbled upon Bobby Flynn dealing to the neighborhood kids. He should have backed off, he should have let local law enforcement handle the situation. Instead he’d blundered in, determined to save at least a couple of youngsters from drug addiction. All he’d done was get himself shot and help Bobby Flynn graduate from small-time dealing to attempted murder. He’d ruined his own career, and ultimately he’d gotten Bobby killed.
“So . . . You haven’t asked me why I was so determined to keep our date tonight.” Patrice waited a beat, smiling at his reaction. “Your virtue is safe from me.”
“My virtue is long gone.”
“That’s even better.”
Okay, now he was beginning to get uncomfortable. “You were about to explain why we’re here.”
“You already met him,” she said.
Daniel followed her gaze to the bar, where Joe Flynn was standing a group of men to a round of beers.
“He’s moving to unite the mob,” Patrice said, leaning forward to keep her voice down. “I thought you’d want to know, considering what happened the other night.”
“Flynn said as much to me a few minutes ago,” Daniel told her, “but I don’t see what it has to do with the other night.”
“Taking out an assistant U.S. attorney would buy a lot of street credibility.”
“Owning one would be better, especially one who used to be an FBI agent. That’s if he can even pull off a coup like uniting the mob, which I doubt.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Patrice said, sitting back in her seat. “He’s making big promises. Some of the families are listening.”
“Shit,” Daniel said and would have apologized if he hadn’t said it under his breath.
“He’s talking about stepping into the void that’ll be left when you put Tony Sappresi in jail.”
This time Daniel kept his one-syllable reaction to himself. “I’m sure the Mafia has already decided how they’re going to fill that void.” Which, if Flynn got what he wanted, meant Boston was going to suffer a crime wave that would make the eighties seem like a grade-school dodge ball tournament. Most of the casualties would come from the ranks of organized crime, but a whole lot of innocent citizens could get caught in the line of fire.
“Isn’t that the woman from the other night?”
“Huh?” Daniel focused on Patrice’s face again, then twisted around to see what she was looking at. And there, peering in the front window of the pub, was Vivi. “Yeah,” he said, facing forward again, even
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