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That made Angela laugh, Salvatore joining in. The only people not to share in the laughter were Roman and Morrigan. And Abel, of course, who was currently camped out at the hospital with a few of their men. Roman knew why he wasn’t laughing. The fury. Looking at Morrigan’s tense frame, he knew she was much the same. But that wasn’t all. She blamed herself. It was shitty of him, but he kind of did too.
“Tell me again what happened,” he ground out, looking at his cousin.
“Roman...” Angela began.
“I was talking to Morrigan,” Roman said sharply. Too sharply, if Angela’s expression was anything to go by.
She stood up and walked over to him. “I know you’re worried, Roman. But speak to me like that again and you’ll be singing soprano. This wasn’t Morrigan’s fault.”
“She changed the plan. She stopped when she was supposed to bring you directly back here,” Roman challenged. He glared at Morrigan. “Right?”
Morrigan’s back was ruler straight, and her stare unblinking as she answered, “Right.”
“Wrong,” Angela corrected. “I’m the one who asked for the detour. Claire needed a ride. If you’re going to be angry at someone, be angry at me.”
“Morrigan agreed,” Roman shot back. “Which was stupid. A stupid assassin isn’t much good to me.”
“He’s right,” Morrigan said when Angela opened her mouth to argue. “It was stupid. And not something I would usually do. I’m sorry, Angela. I almost cost you your life.” She turned to Roman. “I’m sorry, Roman. I let you down.”
Roman found it hard to look into Morrigan’s hazel eyes because they looked damn sad. And sorrier than he had ever seen. A quick glance at the rest of the room, though, showed a different story. Luca, Salvatore, and Angela were looking at him as if he was the problem. As if he was the one who had fucked up. They looked annoyed with him. But what was more, they looked disappointed in him.
He turned away sharply, finding Smith and Wesson sitting next to Mario and Luigi. All four of them had judgement on their adorable fucking faces. “Oh, fuck off. The lot of you,” he told the animals. They continued to stare at him until he cracked. He spun back around. “Fine! I apologize, okay? Morrigan, it wasn’t your fault. Whoever driving the truck is to blame.”
But Morrigan shook her head. “No. You’re right. I—”
“Stop,” Angela ordered, marching over to Morrigan, who had removed herself from the group and was standing alone in the corner. “We’re not doing this. We’re not taking on the blame of someone else. And we’re not turning on each other. Capiche?”
When Morrigan remained silent, becoming broody, Roman groaned. “Damnit, Morrigan. Don’t pout. I said I’m sorry, okay? And I meant it. Angel is right.”
“As always,” Sal added from the side of his mouth, making Luca grin.
Roman glared at them both, ignoring Sal’s comment. “Now, please tell me again what happened. I need to understand.”
Morrigan took a deep breath, nodding once to Angela in thanks before responding, “It was definitely no accident. The car was gunning for her. And it took off right away. Not to mention that the driver was deliberately concealing their identity. The windows were heavily tinted, but I got close enough to see the driver. I’m betting on a dude based on the size, but I can’t be sure. They were wearing a balaclava, long sleeves, and gloves.”
“Why?” Salvatore spoke up. When all eyes turned to him, he continued, “Why would the driver disguise themselves? Godfrey clearly knows we’re looking for him. You haven’t exactly been subtle in your inquiries. Why hide?”
“Maybe he hired someone? Outsourced? And they didn’t want to be identified,” Luca offered, chewing on his fingernail in thought.
“Maybe,” Sal allowed.
“You don’t buy it?” Roman pressed. It was never wise to ignore Sal’s instincts.
Salvatore was silent for a moment, mulling over his thoughts. Eventually he shrugged. “Crazy people do crazy things, I guess.”
Roman agreed. “Luca? Anything on the truck?”
Luca opened up his tablet and began tapping away. Something he had been doing almost non-stop at the hospital as they waited for word on Claire before all returning to Omertà once she was in recovery about an hour ago. Roman had already promised she had a place to live as long as she wanted. But now, after saving Angel’s life, he would ensure she wanted for nothing. He owed her a debt. And he always paid his debts.
“The pickup was reported as stolen by the owner this morning. The guy owns a gym over on Clifford Road. No connections to Godfrey that I could find, no criminal history. He seems legit,” Luca reported. “Looks like the driver stole the car with the express purpose of using it to run Angel over.”
When Angel shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, Roman went to her and pulled her into an embrace. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, breathing in her fresh scent.
Angela nodded, burrowing into his chest, but remaining silent. The events of the day were catching up to her, and Roman wanted to hurry things along. “What else?” he demanded.
“It was dumped,” Luca replied. “Down by the docks. The cops found it and it has been impounded.”
Roman grunted at that. A good deal of their time in the waiting room at the hospital had been fielding questions from the cops. And they hadn’t been cops that were in Roman’s pockets. Thankfully, they had a nun as an eyewitness, leaving no doubt that Claire and Angela were victims. At the moment, it was being treated as random. Perhaps even a drunk driver. Roman had done nothing to dissuade the police from their incorrect conclusions.
