"This is... significant." Weston drums his fingers on his chest. "It could help us make real headway in tracking down those bastards."
"Which is why I engaged a private detective to run with it." I widen my stance.
"The same one who's checking up on Victoria?" Weston straightens.
"About that...." I roll my shoulders. "There’s a connection between her and the Mafia."
"No." Arpad frowns.
"Yep," A headache drums at my temples. "She was sent with Rhodes for the explicit purpose getting close to us."
"And…?" Weston growls.
"And," I glance around the men, "that’s all I know so far.”
Sinclair swears. Damian lowers his chin.
Weston and Arpad watch me with varying expressions of incredulity.
"Clearly, you need a better investigator," Arpad growls.
"You happen to know her, by the way." I tilt my head.
Arpad stiffens, "Is it...? It can't be..."
"Karina," I nod. "Weston recommended her, and she's a trusted friend of Jace's."
He swears under his breath, "A bloody nuisance is what she is."
I lower my chin, "She's trustworthy. That's what matters."
"You’re evading the issue at hand again." Weston moves toward me. "If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re worried that you are in over your head."
I toss my phone at Sinner who snatches it up from the air.
I turn to Weston, "Pick up the gloves if you dare, Doc." I beckon at him. "Happy to go another round."
"You know I don't fight with my hands," Weston frowns. "I need to protect them."
"Maybe you're afraid I'd beat you?" I step back into the ring.
"I'm a surgeon, man." He blinks. "It's not a bloody excuse. And I can whip your arse with my hands tied behind my back."
"Oh?" I bounce on the balls of my feet, "Less talking, more fighting."
"Oh, I’ll be doing more than that, you bloody twit." Weston steps into the ring, "I’m going to dislocate your jaw, finish what Arpad started." He folds his arms behind his back. "And without using my fists."
"Living dangerously, Doc?" I smirk.
He bends his head and rushes me.
I duck, then sweep his legs out from under him. He goes down, rolls, then springs up and rushes me. I evade him, dance over to the other side. "Come on, Doc. Show me what you’ve got."
Weston growls, takes a step forward, when a whistle pierces the air.
I jerk my head around. "Edward?"
The Father crosses the floor to the ring, then jumps up onto the platform. "Getting a little tired of refereeing the brawls between you boys." He frowns. "What are you guys, ten?"
"Hold on." I crack my neck, "Not my fault the wanker here decided to challenge me."
"Bet you were the one to push him into throwing the first hit, when you know that, as a surgeon, he holds back from getting involved in fights of any kind," Edward retorts.
"Yeah," I blow out a breath.
"And Weston, you should know better than indulging this spoilt brat here."
"Spoilt brat…?" I scowl. "Hold on there."
Edward glares at me and I firm my lips.
Of the Seven of us, Edward is the one who’d gone all the way to the dark side…then found light… Hell, if he turns any more pious, I’ll hear angels singing whenever he walks in, which isn’t to say I don’t see the halo around his head right now. My point being... Oh, yeah, when the Father speaks, all of us Seven, and many of our friends and associates, listen.
"Sorry," I hold up a hand.
"Not me you should be apologizing to."
"Right." I turn to Weston, "Apologies and all that, no offense meant."
Weston drags his fingers through his hair, "None taken, you piece of shit."
"Twat," I smirk.
"Jerkhole," he grins.
"Get a room, you two," Arpad spreads his arms along the ropes.
"Nah," Weston lowers his chin, "What would Victoria say to that?"
"None of your business," I turn on him.
"Shit, you were right, Arpad." He shakes his head, "The boy's in love."
"I’m not, you twerps." I crack my neck, "I am going to say this only once, so you all had better listen up.
"Of course, it had to happen to Saint next," Sinclair teases.
I glower at him.
He raises his hands, "Go on, Saint, what’s your plan then?"
I scan the faces of the others. My friends…as close as I’ll get to having brothers…not that there’s any blood connection between us… Well, if you don’t count the blood that was spilt during the time we’d been kidnapped and held together. The longest days of my life… And when you go through an experience like that together… Well, it changes you. It unites you in ways you don’t need to always elaborate with words.
It is for my friends—the dipshits I often love to hate—and also for myself, that I need to go through with the fake wedding.
Also, I need an excuse to keep the woman, who has unearthed feelings I’d thought dead since the incident, near me.
"My plan’s simple. Keep her close, and the Mafia will follow."
Weston tilts his head, "You don’t need to marry her for that."
"It’s simpler that way.”
"How?"
"It’s foolproof in the short term. Victoria, I happen to find out, is old-fashioned enough that she'll respect the wedding vows."
"That’s why she’d marry you so quickly after burying her first husband?"
I growl.
Weston doesn’t back down, "Go on, tell us your reasoning, Saint Killian."
"Don’t use that bloody name"
"It is your middle name, isn’t it?"
"Among others."
"Well, then?"
"I should be able to coerce her into tying the knot sooner than not."
"Meanwhile, you get information about the Mafia from her?"
"Exactly," I prop my hands on my hips.
Weston smirks, "And during this time, of course, you make full use of your marital privileges?"
"Hey," I frown, "don’t go there."
Weston blinks, "Wow, possessive about her too."
"What’s it to you?" I lower my chin.
He turns to Sinclair, "Sound familiar to you?"
Sinclair chuckles, "All too much, and you know the funniest part of this?"
"No, tell me," Weston jokes.
"He has no idea that he’s already well and truly fucked."
"Hook, line and sinker," Weston rubs his hands together.
"Hey, I’m here, you wankers," I growl.
"Barely," Arpad snickers. "Your
