He raised an eyebrow. “Just what are you meaning by that, darling?”
“Commit crimes six days of the week, go to church, repent, and call it a wash?”
She’d said it in a half-joking tone, but Carlyle didn’t smile. “You think a lad doesn’t worry about his soul, just on account of being in the Life?” he asked quietly.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” she said. Then she paused. “Well, maybe it is. I don’t know. I guess I don’t quite see how you can go to church, doing… what you do.”
“You told me I was a good man, once upon a time,” he said.
“Yeah,” she said. “But…”
He waited.
Erin laughed ruefully. “Okay, you’re right. I’m prejudiced. And maybe I’m feeling a little weird, because I haven’t gone to church in a while.”
“You could come to Mass with me.”
“This is a funny line of conversation from a guy who’s hoping to get his girl in bed with him,” she said.
Then he did laugh. “That’s something I’m not meaning to say at Confession.”
“Aren’t you supposed to confess all your sins?”
“Aye, but I’ll not lie to my priest, nor to God. I can only confess them if I’m repentant. I don’t regret a moment of time I’ve spent with you, Erin.”
She kissed him. “I bet you could talk your way out of Purgatory if you had to.”
“Maybe,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “I’ve talked my way out of rooms where I knew at least one lad meant to kill me. And those lads were a sight less forgiving than the Almighty. It’s a fine skill, and one you’d do well to cultivate. You don’t know when your life may depend on your ability to talk a gangster around to your point of view.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “Hang out with guys like that.”
“You’d be surprised what you can do, when you’ve no other choice. And on that subject, I’ve spoken with Liam.”
Erin sat up again. “You set up a meeting?”
“Aye. Not at the Corner, I fear. Mr. McIntyre is otherwise occupied tomorrow, but he’s agreed to clear up a bit of time. He’ll be at the Amsterdam Billiards Club over on Eleventh Street, expecting you at eleven.”
“You think he’s got anything useful for me?”
“We’ll not know until we talk to him.”
“You’re planning on being there?”
“If you’ll have me. Liam’s a mite twitchy, as you well know, and he’s not accustomed to talking to coppers under social circumstances. I’m thinking I can steady him down a bit.”
“Should I meet you there?”
“I’m thinking that’s best.”
“How romantic,” she said. “Inviting your girl to go hang out with a drug dealer the next morning.”
“It’s hardly my idea of fun either,” he said. “But it’s business. However, I did say business could wait for morning.” He drew her in close.
Erin set aside her thoughts on the case and surrendered to the moment. Here and now, she was with the man she loved. That was good enough for her. Carlyle was right. Tomorrow could take care of itself.
Chapter 5
Erin woke to the harsh buzz of her alarm. She reflexively rolled over and stabbed a finger onto the snooze button. Beside her, Carlyle stirred slightly but didn’t wake up. He was an alert, perceptive man, but he wasn’t a morning person. She eased her way out from under the sheets and slipped into her running clothes. As she pulled on her sweats, she glanced back at the man sleeping in her bed.
It was crazy, she knew it. He shouldn’t be there. She shouldn’t have let him into her life, let alone her bedroom. But she couldn’t help smiling at him. His face, so alert and watchful when he was awake, was relaxed. He looked younger when he was sleeping, more at peace with himself. And the fact that he trusted her enough to fall asleep in her apartment touched her. He lived in a damned reinforced fortress with armed men protecting him, but he let his guard down for her.
Erin shook her head. “Come on, boy,” she whispered to Rolf, jingling his leash. He was already on his paws, ready and willing, the indignity of his bath forgiven.
She and her partner left her apartment building and started jogging, angling through the park across the street. A slim young man in a dark gray coat was standing by a park bench. He nodded politely as she passed him.
Erin skidded to a halt as recognition hit her. “Ian?”
“Ma’am.”
She instinctively checked his hands. They were in his pockets, which could be because it was a brisk March morning, or he could be holding a pistol. Ian Thompson was one of Carlyle’s guys, a bodyguard and driver. He was also a former Marine Scout Sniper and, according to Carlyle, the single most dangerous man in New York City.
He certainly didn’t look dangerous. He was smaller than average, face neutral, manners flawless. He carried a sort of stillness with him. But Erin had been a cop for twelve years, and something about Ian set off all her street warning signals. He was a little too still, and under that stillness was tension, like a high-voltage cable.
It couldn’t possibly be a coincidence that he was here, while his boss was sleeping inside. But he’d also protected Erin in the past, and had never been anything but polite. She honestly didn’t know what to make of him, but couldn’t help liking him a little.
“Just in the neighborhood?” she asked.
“Working, ma’am.”
She gave him a look. “You haven’t been out here all night, have you?”
Ian shrugged.
“It’s thirty degrees,” she said.
“After a while you don’t notice the cold. It helps keep you awake, if you keep moving. I’ve been out on worse nights.”
“You could get picked up for loitering.”
“I move around.”
“That’s a little creepy.”
“No excuse, ma’am. Sorry for disturbing you.” He turned and walked away from her, along the sidewalk in front of her building.
Erin shook her head again. Carlyle trusted Ian
