Kaz must overhear us, because he gives a small nod and steps forward.
“Let’s get in the car, Elana. It’s freezing out here.”
She shoots him a glare worthy of the name Volkov, and he raises his eyebrows, slowly backing away.
I’m next to experience her look as she says, “I stay with you.”
“All right.” I agree, pulling her closer to me. “But you’ll be taking a hot bath when we get back to the hotel.”
“O’Brien is coming,” Alexander says stepping up to my side. Kaz and Ivan move into position beside Elana. Front lines of a silent war.
“My condolences.” Cole offers his hand.
“Thank you.” I nod with the handshake.
“He will be missed.”
Elana snorts but tries to cover it with a cough. Cole’s gaze flicks to her.
“He’s been out of the business for a long time, but he left his mark on the world.” He tries to explain.
Elana wiggles her arm beneath mine, and squeezes. I understand what she’s saying, she’s telling me that the only mark that matters to her is me. I’m his legacy.
Cole raises his brow a little, like he’s expecting me to put her in her place with the dark glares she’s shooting at him. But he doesn’t know her. There is no putting her in any place she doesn’t want to be in.
It’s one of the things I love most about her.
And also the most frustrating.
“Since you’re all in town, we should sit down. Discuss things.” He turns his attention to Alexander now.
“We are flying out in the morning,” Alexander answers, ignoring the fact we control when the family jet takes off.
“Tonight, then. My club. Bring your wives; they can enjoy the music while we talk upstairs.” He eyes Elana for a second. “Fiancées, too.” He smiles, like he’s being clever.
“I’m not sure we can,” she answers, and I squeeze her. A silent message to stay out of the conversation. Alexander will handle this. We’ve already navigated our way out of one mess she made in Boston; I won’t be responsible for letting her make another.
“Tonight is fine,” Alexander says.
“Good.” He nods, then addresses me. “Again, my condolences.”
Elana grunts after he walks away, a small trail of men following him.
“He’s only sorry that he didn’t get to do it himself,” she mutters.
“Elana,” I warn under my breath. The crowd is filled with the Irish, and we don’t need any more of her insults getting to their ears.
After everyone has left, Elana sighs. “I’m sorry I said what I said about Cole. It wasn’t his fault Seamus had a heart attack.”
“No. It’s not,” I say, keeping my eyes on the casket, trying to summon up the level of grief a father’s death should evoke. But all I can manage is an easing of the anger and hatred I’ve held on to for him since my childhood.
“I guess it’s a good thing he went into town for supplies. Who knows how long it would have been before anyone found him in that bunker of his,” she continues.
The grave workers wait for my gesture, then begin to lower the casket into the ground. A light flurry of snow begins to fall. A shiver works through Elana and into me.
“Let’s go.”
“Are you sure?” She hesitates. “When my mom died…Alexander had to tear me away from the gravesite. I didn’t want to leave her. I was much younger then, but what I mean is if you want to stay, we can.”