Free Oxblood by AnnaLisa Grant Page B

soon as I find Gil, I’ll be sending him home, too,” Ian said matter-of-factly.
    â€œI already told you that I’m not leaving without him,” I replied defiantly.
    â€œAnd I already told you that you’re not staying.”
    â€œWhat was Gil doing for you that you granted him permission to stay?” I countered.
    â€œTrust me, I would have sent him home in a flash had he been honest about having a family.” Ian’s voice turned hard and almost angry.
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” I asked, confused.
    â€œIn my line of work, there can be no family or friends to whom you matter, because your death can’t matter.” Seeing the pained look on my face, Ian leaned back in his chair and calmed his tone. “I’m sorry. That was . . . That was brash.”
    Ian continued with a softer approach. “When I asked Gil if he had anyone to go home to, he said no.”
    Gil was passionate beyond reason about law. He would go days without sleep during a research streak. He once dug through 130 years’ worth of archives to find a precedent that would convict a defendant—for a case study . It didn’t shock me that he denied my existence. Gil could be so single-minded and goal-oriented that the rest of the world disappeared. And based on what Ian said, it was clear that Gil had gotten himself into something pretty deep.
    â€œIt doesn’t matter,” I began.
    â€œIt does matter! Do you know how many people would love to have someone to go home to?” Ian’s reply was passionate.
    â€œThen help me. Help me find him and bring him home,” I pleaded. “What was Gil doing that could get him killed? And what is it that you do ? Please, Ian. It’s your turn to explain. I need answers.”
    Ian watched me for a moment, considering his options. I stared back at him, willing him to make up his mind and let me help find Gil. He bit his lip and ran his fingers through his hair.
    â€œI don’t know if you can handle this, Victoria. I wasn’t sure Gil could, either, but he was already in deep and there was nothing I could do.” He sighed. “I want to help you. I just don’t know if—”
    â€œShut up,” I snapped. Ian creased his brow in surprise and confusion at my cutting him off. I rested my cheek in my hand and pulled my hair down from the ponytail it had been in, letting my long hair fall to shield me from the rest of the restaurant. “The guy at my nine o’clock has been at my twelve and one since we got here. He keeps moving closer and hasn’t had a bite to eat,” I whispered.
    Ian’s eyes got bright and a surprised expression came over him. He probably thought I was overreacting and nervous, finding everyone suspicious. But then the faintest smile appeared on his face.
    â€œI take back what I just said.” The smile on his face widened, confusing me.
    â€œI don’t understand,” I replied.
    Ian turned toward the guy and motioned for him to come. He nodded and pulled up a chair at the end of our table. “Victoria, this is Damon Pazzia. Damon, this is Gil’s sister, Victoria.”
    â€œ Piacere di conoscerti ,” Damon said as he took my hand and kissed it. If there was a poster boy for the classic Italian male, it was Damon. He had dark hair and eyes and rich olive skin. He was just like Rudolf Valentino in all those old movies my mom used to watch.
    â€œHe’s very pleased to meet you,” Ian laughed.
    â€œI can see that. Does he speak English?” I asked.
    â€œHe does. He likes to lead with the Italian, though, don’t you, Damon?”
    â€œThe ladies, they like the Italian,” he answered with a smoldering look. “Wait. She is Gil’s sister? Gil has a sister?”
    â€œYes,” Ian answered.
    â€œThat is not good,” Damon said in his Italian accent, his eyes turning dark.
    â€œNo. Why don’t you go back and see if