Page 21 of Dangerous Promises

I purse my lips in annoyance. No, it's not exactly true, but it was surely a team effort. Freddie's mouth goes tight as he tries not to laugh.

Anton brushes past it. "That's not his main base. If he has that many people there I hate to think how many he has at his disposal."

"Victor was planning to team up with Chet so he could use his army," Freddie reminds him. "He thought his own people plus Chet's would be enough to take us out. There must have been a reason he was so confident."

"And he's had almost a year to grow since then," I whisper.

Silence follows as my uncle sinks into quiet contemplation. Freddie patiently watches, while my eyes dart between the two of them to try and work out what it is we're supposed to do from here.

"Well... what do we do?" I ask.

"I don't know," Anton admits. "We may not have enough resources to fight Chet on our own anymore. The best we might do is bunker down and..."

"And?" I ask.

They look at each other before they're willing to look at me.

"We defend ourselves for as long as we can," Freddie answers, sadness drifting through the words.

It's an answer that ends the conversation, and leaves me with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach that I know won't shake easily.

I've made it my routine to eat breakfast in my dad's bedroom since he's come back home. I make him a coffee and bring him a slice of toast. It sits untouched and eventually ends up in the trash. But still, I like pretending there's some normalcy that has returned to my life.

There may not be a day that I ever get to sit across from my father at a breakfast table again. This may be the best that we can have together. So I'll make the toast and the coffee and let it go cold and stale and try not to think about my father wasting away in that bed.

Every day that passes that he doesn't wake up, the less likely it becomes that he ever will.

I get lost in that dreadful thought just as the kettle starts to scream. I jump out of my head and begin to pour coffee for each of us.

"Sage," a sickly sweet voice says.

I shutter my eyes and purse my lips, trying not to groan, recognizing the voice without even having to turn around.

"Angie," I greet, though not with any warmth.

"For me?" she says, hand outstretched for the second coffee I'm holding.

I tug it out of her reach. "Um, no," I say, rolling my eyes.

She gives me a devilish smile and slowly retracts her hand.

I make sure my uncle or Freddie aren't lurking nearby before tightening my jaw and speaking. "You weren't supposed to come here, you know."

Angie smiles on a silent laugh, white teeth peeking through her red lips. "I can't exactly ship the kinds of things that you ask for can I now, Miss DeMarco?"

From her purse, she retrieves a parcel wrapped in a brown paper. I snatch it greedily and shove it under my arm, hoping she will get the hell out of here before my uncle suspects that I'm doing anything nefarious again.

"Why are you even here so much lately?" I ask, narrowing my eyes as I take a sip of coffee.

"Some of that is your business. Some of it isn't," she says, all with her signature smile as she throws her hair over her shoulder. Her eyes spring with delight. "But you certainly need a lot of things from me."

I stare blankly at her before succumbing.

"Yes, I appreciate you getting me to Alexei last night. And this package. And… all the other stuff." I take a bigger sip, allowing the liquid to burn my throat. Angie smiles again in amusement.

I have to wonder why everyone keeps looking at me like I'm a particularly entertaining sideshow.

I know she's a dangerous woman. I also know I forget that sometimes. I follow behind her as she exits the kitchen and heads into the front hall, heels clicking over the checkered tile.