Page 78 of Philly
“I’ve met them as an FBI agent, not as yourwife,” she replied, only stumbling a little on that word. She never expected to be anyone’s wife ever, let alone Gabriel’s. She wondered if she’d ever get used to saying it.
Gabriel’s smile went a long way to easing her anxiety. Or a bit of it. “Okay,” she said on an exhale. “Let’s do this.”
He chuckled as they exited the car. “It’s not going to be nearly as bad as you’re imagining,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her in for a chaste but lingering kiss.
“But it will be a little bad,” she mumbled as they walked to the door.
“More for me than you,” he answered. She glanced at him. “They aren’t going to like that they missed the wedding,” he clarified. “And I can assure you thatno onebet on me being the first of the Falcons to get hitched. There will be no winner of that bet.”
“There’s a bet on that?” she asked, but he opened the door and the answer took second—or fourth—fiddle to the current situation.
He held her left hand, covering the rings she’d slid on less than twelve hours earlier, and they stepped into the main lodge room of the clubhouse. Everyone looked over at their arrival—most were familiar faces, although some she knew of but hadn’t met. Several sat around the fireplace, including Charley, Juliana, and Lina, drinks in hand and their feet kicked up on the coffee table. Four Falcons played cards at a table. Scipio was on his phone, as he almost always was. Four more men played pool in the back corner, stopping their game when she and Gabriel entered.
The tableau reminded her of the day she’d stopped by a few weeks ago and they’d been having a barbecue. Only this time, she had Gabriel at her side.
Familiar tension crept into her body, and she could feel her defensive walls going up brick by brick.
But then Charley squealed, a very un-Charley-like thing to do in Callie’s experience, and pointed at Gabriel’s hand. “I won the bet. Iwon!”
A few expressionless faces zeroed in on the ring Gabriel wore, while a few others started to smile. Gabriel grinned like the Cheshire cat and lifted his hand. “You won, Charley,” he confirmed. Then, raising her hand, he flashed her rings for them to see as well. “We decided that some things in Vegas shouldn’t stay in Vegas. We got married this morning.”
She didn’t miss the wary looks some of the men gave them—Lovell, Superman, and Hawkeye the most obvious of the bunch—but she chose to focus on the smiles emerging. Not surprisingly, Mantis, Stone, and Viper were the first. Then Marley, Monk, and Dulcie, a man she’d not met, followed. She didn’t blame those who remained guarded. In a weird way, their reticence made her more comfortable. Their reactions felt real, and she’d rather real wariness than fake happiness.
Mantis approached first and embraced his brother in a hug, then wrapped his arms around her. Everyone else, even the hesitant ones and the ones she’d never met before, followed. Not surprisingly, Juliana demanded to see her ring. She dutifully held her hand out in a way she’d seen countless other women do, never thinking she’d be one of them. Even Charley complimented Gabriel on his pick. Lina glanced at it and smiled, but Callie suspected that if she and Viper ever married, their “engagement rings” might be new Harleys.
The last person to congratulate them was Dottie, the tips of her hair freshly dyed her signature purple. She didn’t bother to hide the tears in her eyes as she hugged them both, then chastised them for not telling her first so she could have a celebration ready.
Only Callie thought that if the amount of food and drink and dessert that appeared from the kitchen was Dottienotpreparing, it was a good thing they hadn’t told her. Otherwise, the club would be eating continuously for days.
Over the next half hour, drinks were poured, music came on, the game of pool picked back up, as did a rousing game of darts. She had no idea why the club kept enough bottles of Taittinger champagne on hand to keep their glasses full, but she wasn’t going to complain. Although, after one or two, several people switched to beer. Except for Gabriel, who switched to water after his second, telling her he’d drive so she could enjoy.
Eventually, they were pulled in separate directions, and she appreciated that a few of the men she’d not met before made a point to spend time with her. When three of them thanked her for what she’d done all those years ago, it dawned on her that their guardedness wasn’t personal. She was simply someone they didn’t know whom their brother had pledged to spend the rest of his life with. Although Einstein did suggest that she learn the art of the pause—that small space between a trigger and areaction—and how to use it so as not to hurteitherof them in the future. But even his gentle rebuke of her past behavior was tempered by his choice of words. He didn’t want either of them to get hurt now—heror Gabriel.
A few people asked about the case and, to the extent she could, she answered. Not in detail, but with enough information to ease their minds. Although halfway into her conversation with Mantis she realized Gabriel had failed to mention the tiny detail of getting shot. A fact Mantis did not like.
“A professional,” Mantis said, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes scanning the small nicks and marks on her cheek. They didn’t hurt anymore, and as long as she kept a little ointment on them, she didn’t feel the telltale tightening of healing skin. Her hands were a different story. They itched and stung at the same time. Ointment and the bandages helped, although she’d insisted on only wearing small ones, just big enough to cover the worst of the scrapes.
“Definitely a professional,” Gabriel answered, not bothered by the glower Mantis sent him. Charley reached out and wrapped her arm around Mantis’s waist.
“Nice try at distracting me, Charlotte. I’m still pissed he didn’t bother to tell me he wasshot,” Mantis said, sliding his arm over her shoulder and pulling her to his side.
“A scratch. Should I call and tell you when I drop a hammer on my toe, too?” Gabriel said.
“Not helping, Philly,” Charley muttered.
“It’s not the scratch I’m concerned with but the fact that he came after you at all,” Mantis replied.
“And got away,” Callie chimed in. As annoyed as Mantis was, she agreed with him on that point.
Mantis nodded. “It’s possible that whoever sent him—and we’re all assuming it was Aiden Nolan—will back off, knowing you’ll be on your guard now.”
“He may also be thinking he has bigger fish to fry,” Callie said. When Mantis cocked his head, she continued. “As far as Aiden knows, I’m no longer with the FBI and currently jobless. Killing us would have been expedient, but in his eyes, I have no authority, and there’s not much I can do to him. Now that there’s been a shooting, though…”
“The authorities—people whocando something about it—are involved again. And local law enforcement will be looking for a motive,” Mantis said with a nod.
“He doesn’t know what I’ve shared or who I’ve shared it with,” she said. “He’s going to be busy figuring that out. Figuring out who I’ve told what.”
“And it doesn’t make sense to risk coming after you again when it’s likely that the information you have won’t die with you,” Mantis said.
