Aunt Frieda paced from the kitchen to the living room’s picture window. She planted her hands on her hips, scanned the drive and the two men standing guard outside the carriage house door and harrumphed. “Where the hell are they?”

Well, at least Cassie wasn’t the only one fighting impatience. “No clue.” She checked her phone again, the only text on the display the one Kir had sent an hour ago that simply said They’re safe. Working out details. Be home soon.

Of course, it’d taken three hours of absolute, tension-riddled silence before they’d gotten that much. At least now they knew everyone would be coming home, which should have made the waiting a little easier. But after four years of working jobs where she was always in the know, being in the dark sucked.

She snatched the remote off the coffee table and thumbed through the local stations for any breaking stories.

Ellen DeGeneres.

Dr. Phil.

Jeopardy.

Judge Judy.

Zero news.

Not the most surprising outcome. You had to have something pretty major happen before you interrupted regular programming. Even with impending hurricanes, people didn’t much appreciate it if you robbed them of their routine.

She punched up her old station. Only five more minutes and the regular five o’clock newscast would start.

Frieda dropped onto the cushion next to her. “Surely, they’ll have something about it on the lineup.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Cassie upped the volume just enough to follow Ellen’s closing remarks, but not so much it would overpower her phone’s ringer. “After what Via said to the execs, they might be gun-shy about covering anything to do with Sergei.”

She handed off the remote to Frieda and took her own turn glaring out the front window. If she had a dollar for every time she’d been tempted to pick up the phone and demand information from Kir, she’d be able to fund the launch of her business without any outside help. Seriously. How hard was it for a guy to pick up the phone and knock out just a few more details? Maybe at least an ETA?

This is what I do, Cassie. Trust me to handle it. Wait for me where I know you’re safe.

Doing the dangerous stuff wasn’t all he did. She knew from the discussions they’d shared since moving into the carriage house that he was more of an overseeing manager these days than an enforcer. A by-product of the type of family Sergei was determined to create.

But he was also capable of actions no ordinary man would ever take on. Had gone well beyond the shades of gray some might dabble in and had welcomed the dark.

Most of the time he masked it. Presented himself as an affable and carefree bachelor with a penchant for fashion and more money than he knew what to do with. But every now and then, the hard edges he’d honed him bled through, and her heart ached at the past that had shaped him. So, if he wanted her to sit and twiddle her thumbs so he could focus, then she’d by God sit, twiddle her thumbs and wait.