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Everyone nodded, then Morrigan spoke up. “And after we talk, we can kill them?”
Morrigan asked it so hopefully that Angela couldn’t help laughing, despite the circumstances. “No, you bloodthirsty wench. Don’t kill them. Okay?”
“Um, no. That is not okay.” Luca was the one to respond. “They don’t deserve to live, Angel.”
There was a hard, cold look on his face that she had never seen before. It made him look much more like his big brother. “I agree with you,” she assured him. “But you do. You all do.”
Luca shook his head. “I’m not following.”
“I said my father has connections,” Angela reminded him.
Luca huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Who cares? The man gazing at you adoringly has connections, too.”
“I know you researched my family. You all did,” Angela said, looking around the table. “You must know who my father is. You must know the types of connections he has.”
“I do know,” Morrigan admitted. “But again, who cares?”
“I care,” Angela said forcefully. “Murdering a senator and his wife could take your life away. No. I won’t allow it.”
“You can’t tell me what to do. I can kill whoever I want to,” Morrigan retorted.
Angela threw her hands up in the air, totally exasperated. “Would you listen to yourself? You sound like a child.”
Morrigan sniffed, slightly raising her chin. “Don’t care. It’s time to get stabby.”
Angela looked at Roman for help, but he was clearly on Team Death. A quick glance around the table revealed similar expressions of violent tendencies. She was on her own. “No, Morrigan. It is not stabby time.” She shook her head, rubbing her eyes. “I can’t believe I just said that. I can’t believe this is my life.” She turned to Roman, who looked resigned now. As if he had already accepted the inevitability of the madness. “How did this happen?”
He picked up her hand, bringing it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, murmuring, “Welcome to my world, mio angelo.”
Angela sighed, loving the hell out of her man—and his world—before turning to her friend. “Morrigan...”
“Do you really think those wide, glistening green eyes and that earnest expression on your pretty face are going to work on me?” Morrigan whipped the words at her, her mouth morphing into a sneer. “I’ve killed more people than there are days of the year, Doc. Try again.”
Angela said nothing. Instead, she reached out, taking Morrigan’s hands in her own and holding them tightly. “Morrigan...”
Morrigan’s eyes widened, and she tried to pull her hands free. Angela held on tighter, staring her down. “What is that? What are you doing?” Morrigan demanded.
“I’m asking you, as your friend, not to kill my miserable parents. Please? In the name of friendship?” Angela pleaded with her eyes, doing her best impersonation of Mario when he wanted a treat.
“In the name of friendship? What are we, My Little Ponies?” Morrigan yanked her hands free. She pushed her chair back and jumped up, the chair hitting the floor with a bang in her haste. “Get fucked, Angel.”
Angela remained calm. And she didn’t change her expression. “For me? Please?”
“Shit, damn, fuck-whistle!” Morrigan exclaimed, yanking on her hair. She paced around the table for a moment before yelling, “Aargh! Fine. For you. I’ll do this for you, Angel.”
Angela immediately lost her pathetic expression. “Great. Thank you.”
Morrigan narrowed her eyes and jabbed a finger at her. “Oh, you’re good.”
“Thank you,” Angela simply repeated.
“You know, acting skills like that could come in handy,” Sal mused, wriggling his eyebrows comically at her.
Angela shook her head. “I think I’ll stick to being a surgeon.”
Morrigan sat back in her chair, reaching for her plate once more. “Okay. So we question your parents, leaving them alive.”
“And well,” Angela cut in.
