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Roman didn’t apologize—he looked too pissed for that. But he did soften his voice. “When was the last time you saw him?”
Claire was quiet for a moment before replying, “A few weeks ago.”
“Weeks? Not months?” Abel challenged. “I asked you a few days ago if he was still giving you trouble. You told me no.”
“I didn’t think he was,” Claire defended herself.
“If you saw him weeks ago, it means he broke the terms of the restraining order. That constitutes giving you trouble, Claire,” Angela said gently.
Claire had filed for the protective order about a month into her stay at Omertà , despite Abel telling her not to. He wanted to handle Robert himself. But with Angela’s and Luca’s support, Claire had filed formal documents, and the courts had issued the documents. Claire hadn’t mentioned any problems with Robert since the order came into effect, but Angela was now second-guessing that. Had her friend been keeping secrets?
Claire rubbed the shoulder of her broken arm as if it pained her. “He was at the same coffee shop I went to. I didn’t speak to him. I left as soon as I saw he was in there. I don’t think he even saw me.”
Morrigan reassembled her gun, making eye contact with Claire. “Well, it looks like he sees you now. He’s trying to kill you.”
Claire rose from her seat carefully. “Will you all excuse me? I’m really sorry.”
Abel watched Claire flee, looking conflicted. “Go,” Roman ordered gruffly. “Make sure she’s okay.”
Abel didn’t need to be told twice, leaving without a word. Angela sat herself back down, finding it hard to believe the turn of events. “I was never the target. All this time worrying about my safety, all this angst, and it was never about me.”
Roman shook his head, looking tired all of a sudden. “It’s still about you, Angel. Godfrey is still the Foreman. And he’s still out there.”
He was right. And although not being deliberately mowed down was a good thing, it also added another layer of complexity. Claire was clearly in danger. It also meant one other thing. “Godfrey was telling the truth.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Forty-eight hours later, they had made little headway. Knowing Godfrey hadn’t targeted Angela was a relief, but it didn’t change anything. The man still needed to die.
Roman wasn’t used to losing. He wasn’t used to feeling impotent. He wasn’t used to being bested. It was taking its toll, his mood diminishing with every hour Godfrey remained at large. He had no idea how long Godfrey’s truce would last. Or even if he should believe the other man. Hell, he could be plotting to blow up the Omertà complex and was just stalling for time.
Roman groaned, dropping his head to his desk with a thump. Angel had managed to convince him to try to do some work. He certainly had plenty to do. There were a number of things that he needed to follow up on. The problem was that the people he would usually delegate to were as indisposed as he was. Pulling his inner circle away from the hunt to deal with trivial things like titanium-tipped bullets frustrated him. But he had done just that, sending Morrigan off to sort out the lost shipment. He’d also ordered Abel to find Claire’s bastard of an ex. Abel had needed little encouragement.
When a knock sounded on his door ten minutes later, he almost wept in relief. “Come in!” he shouted exuberantly.
Abel walked in. “Hello to you, too. I take it you missed me?”
“I’ve read the same line on this report five times, and I still couldn’t tell you what it says.” He threw the offending document onto his desk. “How did you fare?”
“He’s gone to ground,” Abel growled, his face darkening.
Roman cursed. “Are you serious? Another enemy is evading us? What the fuck is going on?”
“I know. I feel you,” Abel stated. “I took Claire to the police department along with Luca’s enhanced image. She wanted there to be a record of it. The restraining order is still in place, and now there’s a warrant out for his arrest. But I’ll get him before it’s going to matter.”
“You have all my resources at your disposal,” Roman promised his friend.
Abel dropped into the chair in front of Roman’s desk, rubbing his eyes. “Thanks, man.”
“Always.”
Abel slouched in the seat, staring up at the ceiling. “How about you?”
“Sal and a few others are out chasing down leads that Wayne gave us. Nothing as far as Godfrey’s location, though.” It was really fucking embarrassing to say that.
Abel groaned, not moving. “What about Angel? Where is she? Wasn’t she supposed to be back by now?”
Roman checked the time on his watch. “Her shift finished an hour ago, but she had an appointment to donate blood.”
