Page 122 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“I can reach out,” Casper said. “See if I hear anything.”

“I’m gonna do the same,” Gray replied. He looked at me. “You talked to your sisters today?”

“This mornin’,” I confirmed. “They’re fine.”

“Good.”

“You think this might have somethin’ to do with Richie?” I asked. We’d stopped having the house watched almost a month ago. Things had been all quiet on that front.

“Could be,” Gray said. “Probably not. Club’s got a few irons in the fire that we’re monitorin’. Could be somethin’ else. Could be nothin’.”

“Trust your gut, kid,” Grease ordered, pointing at me with his coffee mug. “Best advice anyone ever gave me. Saved my ass more than a few times.”

“Mygut’s saved your ass more than a few times,” Casper corrected.

“That too.” Grease saluted him.

“It’s probably nothin’,” I said again. “Myla’s tryin’ to take her girls out tonight and they’re all fired up to go without protection—”

Both the older men laughed.

“That’s probably all it is.”

“You gonna let her?” Casper asked curiously.

“NobodyletsMyla do shit,” I replied. “She does whatever the fuck she wants. But, no. I’m gonna see if Bas will go with ’em.”

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Grease said with a chuckle. “Christ, I’m glad that shit is behind me.”

“Speak for yourself,” Casper replied. “My woman’s still fuckin’ crazy.”

“You’ve already got a plan for that,” Gray pointed out. “That’s not what’s fuckin’ with ya.”

“I was raised in a house where our mother came home plastered and picked fights with my older sister on the regular,” I replied. “I wasn’t jokin’ when I said it was probably nothin’. If shit’s goin’ good, I’m waitin’ on the other shoe to drop.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve got a finely honed sense of impending trouble,” Casper corrected. “Not a bad thing to have.”

“I’ll make some calls,” Gray told me. “Keep an eye out.”

“Always,” I said as he walked away.

“Get used to livin’ with that sense of doom,” Casper warned. “Trust me on this—Myla won’t mellow with age.”

“Fantastic,” I muttered.

The rest of the day dragged by. I ended up leaving an hour early—which made me feel like a chump—because there wasn’t anything for me to do. I stopped on the way home to grab Saoirse a gift card to a shop she liked in town and made it home just in time to find Noel sweeping off the front porch.

“What the hell are you doin’?” I asked. “You realize that people are gonna be draggin’ shit all over that in a couple of hours, right?”

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t clean it now,” she replied primly.

“It’s a family birthday party,” I said, taking the broom from her hands. “The porch looks fine.”

“It’s the first time I’m hosting,” she said as she followed me inside. “We always have parties over at Tommy and Heather’s.”

“The house looks great,” I replied. I wasn’t lying. She’d swept and mopped and dusted and who the fuck knew what else, and the house smelled like lemon cleaner and whatever the candle was that I could see burning on the kitchen island. “Aoife’s bringin’ the food, right?”

“That’s what she said,” Noel confirmed with a nod. “I told her we’d get drinks. You picked them up last night, right?”

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