Page 55 of August

“It’s a start,” August said. “Finding some dirt would be best.”

Taschen smirked, crinkling the scar at the side of his face. “I’m sure I can find something.” He stood and stretched. “But I need to stop by the office. I might need Dana’s help with something.”

“Why don’t you eat first?” Gigi stacked another sandwich on a pile of them and nudged a board filled with cured meats, cheeses, pickles, beets, olives, and crackers in his direction.

“Looks awesome.” Taschen scooped up a chicken salad sandwich and bit into it. “Damn, that’s good.”

Gigi grinned and handed August a plate. He accepted and began filling it while Rami stretched across the counter and made his own. Toth and Ghost came over for food, too, and minutes later they were all scarfing down Gigi’s snacks. August wanted to roll his eyes at the idiots moaning over their mouthfuls.

Fifteen minutes later Toth, Rami, and Taschen left, promising to get dirt on the Radcliffes and to see if they could find any surveillance footage of Todd coming and going from the island. Ghost stayed behind, quiet and pensive and making August’s pulse spike.

When Gigi disappeared into the bedroom, August swung his attention to the brooding newcomer, who struck August as a prick. “What?” August asked, not about to mince words.

Ghost’s brows twitched together.

“You’re still here. Seems like you’ve got something to say.”

Ghost plucked an olive from the small dish on the charcuterie board and popped it into his mouth. “I do.” His gaze flicked toward the bedroom, seemingly to make sure they were alone. “I don’t think you know what you’re up against.”

Annoyance poked August’s temples, but he tilted his head back and laughed. “Dude. If anyone knows what they’re getting into, it’s me. I dealt with this cartel months ago. They don’t scare me. We just need to get them in the right spot, that’s all.”

Ghost spread his long fingers on the white countertop. “I’m not talking about the cartel.”

August crossed his arms over his chest. “Who then?”

Ghost stood. The guy was built. Again, August got a weird vibe. The dude had a separation from the here and now that made August’s skin itchy. Ghost’s eyes—smoky and ominous—matched his name.

“The Radcliffes. Something tells me you need to be damn sure you want to bark up that tree. You might be facing people far more dangerous than the cartel.” He sidled around August and made his way to the door. “I’ll do some more digging on Todd. Hit at you later.”

Ghost left, and August stared at the closed door. Angst formed in the pit of his stomach.

He turned to find Gigi leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her slight frame and her hazel eyes fogged with worry. “I hope he’s not right.”

August locked his jaw. He couldn’t promise anything. Couldn’t assure her. And goddammit, he hated that more than the frightened look on her face.

Protectiveness surged inside him. Come at me. All of you bastards. Try to take what’s mine and I’ll kill you.

***

The smell of chicken slowly cooking in tangy tomato sauce and spices permeated the kitchen. Tikka masala was one of Gigi’s favorites and she hadn’t had it since making it for August two years ago.

Fresh naan bread was wrapped in foil on the counter, and she was waiting for the rice to finish on the stove. A rice cooker was one of the many appliances this place lacked, but one she could do without.

She’d also whipped up a batch of double-chocolate brownies and had just popped them in the oven. August was in his bedroom with the door open, and she’d heard him speaking on the phone a couple of times since everyone left.

Trying to track down Todd.

Now that the condo was quiet, her thoughts blared. Having everyone there had been intense, but the silence was harder. Fear crept in like smoke snaking its way under a closed door. Thick and dark. Suffocating.

And if she opened the door, she’d be swallowed by blackness. Her lungs would be filled with the toxic clouds until her last breath was squeezed from her chest and—

She pressed a hand to her thumping heart, forcing a deep sigh from her lips. Easy. August was close. They had help. The cartel couldn’t reach her. Not here and not now unless they were batshit enough to drive down to Seattle’s core and shoot up a thirty-story upper-class apartment building.

Unlikely. She swallowed and forced herself to check on their dinner. Then she took out plates and filled them with their sides. As long as her hands were moving, she’d stay calm.

After filling two glasses with water, she gathered utensils and the naan bread then set the table and called August into the kitchen.

He walked into the room with a hand on his stomach and his gaze skimming the lay out then moving to her. “Smells amazing. It was torture sitting in there waiting.” Warmth reached his eyes, and he approached and wrapped his hand around her waist. “Sit,” he said, leading her to the table. “You’ve been busy all day.”

---