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Angela laughed; she couldn’t help it. Morrigan huffed at her, but poor Colt and Sterling received a murderous glare for their badly concealed chuckles. When a throat cleared from behind her, Angela looked to find Finn still there. His ice-blue eyes were locked on Morrigan. “I’m sorry, I’m being rude,” Angela said, moving to the side. “Morrigan, let me introduce you to—”
“Nope. I don’t want to be introduced to anyone,” Morrigan flung back.
“I apologize,” Angela said to a wide-eyed Finn. “I’d like to say she’s not always like this, but I’d be lying.”
“I don’t mind,” Finn assured her. He smiled winningly at Morrigan and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Finley. I—”
Morrigan looked at his outstretched hand as if it was smudged with shit. “I’m not touching that. And I don’t care.” She turned to Angela. “I’m staying for the day. Don’t leave without me again.” Then she marched over to Colt and Sterling and began talking to them rapidly.
Angela and Finn watched as the two men cringed, shrinking away from the angry assassin. By the time Morrigan was satisfied with her tongue lashing, poor Sterling looked like he was about to cry. Angela was going to have to buy him some of his favorite chocolate.
“Wow,” Finn breathed, still staring at Morrigan. “I think I’m in love.”
Angela looked at Finn, finding infatuation on his face. Oh dear, she thought to herself. “Listen, Finn, I really don’t recommend...”
But Finn held up his right hand, silencing her. “Nope. You won’t change my mind. That’s my future wife right there,” he insisted with a happy little sigh.
Angela groaned. “Oh, Finn...”
“You don’t believe me. That’s okay.” Finn patted Angela’s forearm kindly. “I’ll convince you.”
“It’s not me you need to convince,” Angela muttered, knowing how many weapons Morrigan had stashed beneath her clothes despite hospital security and protocols.
“That’s the fun part,” Finn answered with a boyish grin.
Angela wasn’t sure exactly how old he was, but he had a decidedly baby face. He had symmetrical dimples, dark brown hair, eyes the color of blue lace agate, and he clearly worked out. He had been a nurse at the hospital for fifteen years, so he had to be in his mid-thirties at least. “I didn’t know you had a death wish,” she said in response.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “It’s always the quiet ones.”
Angela snorted. “So I’ve heard.”
She went on to complete the remainder of her shift, with two bodyguards and one assassin following her around. They weren’t permitted in the operating room, of course, nor in with the patients. She had to protect patient privacy and confidentiality. But they were always right outside the door. When it came time for her to leave, all it took was a look from Morrigan to have Colt and Sterling follow behind the assassin’s car. There was no question about who would be driving.
“I really am sorry I left without you this morning. I didn’t think you would care,” Angela offered into the stilted silence of the car.
“Yeah, well, you thought wrong,” Morrigan muttered irritably. “I do care. And so will Roman when I tell him.”
Angela’s mouth fell open. “You’re planning to snitch on me?”
“That’s what you get,” Morrigan replied, unphased.
Angela frowned. She knew Roman was struggling with her working, even though they had come to an agreement. But she knew he was even more upset with her staying at her apartment the night before last. He had stayed with her, of course, but not until they’d narrowly bypassed an argument. She knew he was worried about her. She was worried about herself, as well as him and all those she cared about. But giving up her independence was not going to happen. Especially when there had been no sign of the Foreman since he’d left Omertà.
“Well, do you know what snitches get?” Angela asked rhetorically. “Stitches. Snitches get stitches.”
Morrigan’s expression was unimpressed. “Really?”
“You should know more about that than me. Aren’t the mafia sensitive to snitches?” Angela inquired with a smile.
“I prefer the term rat,” Morrigan replied. “And, yes, very sensitive. But we aren’t technically the mafia anymore. Even though Roman will never really escape being an heir,” she added.
“So, you have no issue with anyone ratting on you?” Angela highly doubted it.
Morrigan sent her an incredulous look. “Are you shitting me? If anyone ratted me out, I’d take them out. But we aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about the friggin’ love of Roman’s life.”
Angela hunched her shoulders. “Wow, way to make me feel guilty.”
“I’m an expert at it,” Morrigan admitted with a quick grin before she turned serious once again. “But it’s a fact.”
