Page 104 of His Fury

“I’m making it clear”—I leaned in slightly—“she’smine. And anyone who forgets thatwillpay.”

A beat of silence.

Angelo’s expression hardened slightly. “Understood.”

He poured himself a drink and raised it in my direction. “You’ve got nerve, McCabe. A ledger? Copies of information that could harm my employer. And a woman?” He licked his teeth. “If she’s your weak spot, you'd better lock that shit down.”

“She’s not a weak spot. But Iamhere to lock it down.”

Angelo downed his straight vodka in one gulp. “I’ll talk to the boss,” he said. “Tell me what you’re bringing to the table for these...transgressions.”

“Fifty million.”

Angelo’s eyes gleamed with what appeared to be approval. “And?”

“All traces of the ledger will be removed. I’ll take over Delaney’s loan shark business, giving a fifteen percent cut to Ferraro. I will get Delaney’s business under control, and when it’s ready to be off-loaded, I will find the best replacement.”

“And if Mr. Ferraro says you are best placed to keep it?”

“I will respectfully decline.”

Angelo smiled. “I’ll take it to the table.”

I nodded and left the warehouse. I walked back to the car with Rye watching me closely but saying nothing as I got in.

He drove us back to Gracemont, and only after the outskirts of Chicago were far behind us did he turn to me. “Are you going to keep me hanging like a fish on a fucking hook?”

“I requested assistance to resolve the leverage issue.” I gazed out the window. “I made my offer, and he’s presenting it at the table.”

“And?”

“I told them that Isla is off-limits.”

Rye muttered a curse under his breath. “And what did he say?”

“Much of what you say—she’s a weak spot.”

Rye grunted but said nothing more. I didn’t either because I already knew.

She wasn’t my weak spot.

She was my line in the sand.

CHAPTER 25

ISLA

When I opened my eyes,his side of the bed was still warm.

His scent lingered in the sheets, heady and grounding and somehow laced with tension that I could still feel in my bones. He’d come home in the early hours of the morning.

Quiet. Controlled.

I hadn’t been sleeping, waiting for his return, and my eyes opened the second he stepped into the room. I’d seen the storm in his eyes. I’d watched him as he took his boots off at the dresser, shrugging off his jacket.

“You did something,” I said quietly as he approached the bed. Even when he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close, there’d been something unspoken in the way he held me. “Everything okay?”

“It’s handled.”

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