Close Cover (Masters and Mercenaries #16)(30)

Remy actually felt himself flush. “He did not need to know that.”

“Was it a good pizza?” Tag asked.

She shrugged. “I didn’t eat much of it. I jumped him pretty fast.”

“Maybe you’re the one I should be talking to,” Tag replied, obviously relishing the gossip he would share the minute he got into the office. Hell, he wouldn’t wait that long. He’d call Charlotte the minute he walked out the door. “Sub, you have to feed your Dom. He gets cranky and starts speaking French and shit when he’s hangry. When he starts speaking French, I get nauseous because it’s way too French.”

“Did you get me the info I asked about?” He hadn’t asked at all, but Lisa needed to think his interest in this case had coincided with his interest in her.

“I sent you the file Hutch worked up late last night. You owe him a big bag of Red Vines.” Tag looked over at Lisa, who flipped a pancake onto a plate. “That’s the secret to a truly successful business. You’ve got to find employees willing to work for food. Hutch is all about the candy and Boomer is happy as long as there’s a plate of something in front of him. Julian Lodge taught me that. The whole first year when he was funding McKay-Taggart he refused to pay us in anything but Chilean sea bass. The rich are weird, Lisa. Stay away from them.”

She grinned as though she truly loved Tag’s antics. “I don’t think that will be a problem. Honestly, I’m not that into rich guys. I know I’m supposed to be all about the billionaire, but give me a blue-collar boy any day.”

“Or a redneck because that’s what Remy’s blue collar is hiding,” Tag said.

He’d been so wrong about her because she simply grinned, her cheeks flushed, and it wasn’t all because she was cooking. He winked her way and then tried to get Tag back on task. “You said Hutch found something?”

“There’s nothing to find,” Lisa said, holding out a plate. “The case is practically dead. Now, Sir, what’s our protocol on which massive predator I throw meat at first? My Dom or our guest?”

“Unlike our guest, we’re a perfectly civilized couple. Guests first, and you’re wrong. He did find something. That’s precisely why he’s here,” he replied even as she set the plate in front of Tag.

The big guy looked up and the sarcasm fled for a moment. “Thank you, Lisa. This looks delicious. Remy’s right. Hutch and Michael are working on a comprehensive file on the actual court case, but we already have some underground intel that makes me nervous. I have information that a man named Francesco Biondo is in town. Does that name ring a bell?”

She shook her head as she made a second plate and passed it to Remy. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“He’s an Italian national, known as The Blond in certain circles,” Big Tag said between bites.

Remy’s appetite fled in an instant. McKay-Taggart kept files on anyone Interpol flagged. And some Interpol didn’t even know about. “Are you talking about the assassin?”

“I am.” Big Tag sat back. “He’s known for his professionalism and his skill. His weapon of choice is a long-range rifle, but he’s used close-up tactics as well. The good news is Lisa doesn’t have a car for him to rig to explode. He’s an expert at that, too. Now we don’t know that he’s here for Lisa, but I find it interesting timing.”

She stopped and stared. “Why would someone assassinate me? The trial isn’t even going on. I doubt it will. They lost their best evidence. The prosecutor told me he didn’t think he would retry.”

“I think you’re their best evidence,” Taggart said quietly. “You can still testify.”

“But without the books to back me up, it’s my word against his,” she pointed out.

He saw exactly where Taggart was going and wished the boss would stay out of his damn business. He had this handled. “That’s true. That must be why the prosecutor is taking his time figuring out if he’s going to file the case again.”

“The fact that he doesn’t file the case now doesn’t mean Vallon’s off the hook. As long as you’re out here and willing to testify, this will hang over his head for years,” Taggart explained.

Lisa nodded. “I know, and I know what you think I should do. You want me to go into some kind of witness protection, but I’m not giving up my life, Ian.”

“You’ve already given up Sanctum,” Remy pointed out.

“That wasn’t about Vallon potentially offing me to keep me quiet. That was about pride. I can’t get myself there anymore. Next time, you should put the club next to a handy rail station,” she replied.

Taggart shuddered. “That would be horrible. Those things are human cattle movers. Have you smelled one in the middle of August? My point is you should come back. The last thing you need right now is to be isolated. That does nothing but help out the people who might try to hurt you. Someone will pick you up and take you home. I assure you no one will mind.”

“I’ll take her.” He didn’t like Taggart trying to arrange things for his sub. Not that they’d signed a contract yet, but they would. And he already had plans to keep her safe. Two nights a week at Sanctum would be two nights where nothing bad could happen to her. He was going to fix the other nights, too.