Cain glanced at the door when Lou and Emma walked back in. Her wife appeared angry, which was a change from when she’d excused herself to the restroom. “Did they run out of hand soap or something?” she asked, putting her arm around Emma’s waist.

Her question made Dallas laugh. “You do look like you’ve lost your good humor,” Dallas said.

“I ran into our favorite FBI agent in the bathroom and lost my cool over what happened with Hannah,” Emma said, accepting a glass of wine from one of the waiters.

“Whoa.” Remi put her hand up. “What happened with Hannah?” Remi was as overprotective of their children as she and Emma were. That had doubled when they’d named Remi and Dallas godparents to Hannah and Billy.

Cain told them about the talk they’d had with Hannah and what the little girl had admitted.

“That’s terrible,” Dallas said. “Using a child to do something is one thing, but trying to teach her to lie to you and Cain is unforgivable.”

“Cain told Hannah that and made her feel better about not admitting what happened right away. It makes me angry when I think about how much time that little girl spent in our home and what else she might’ve left behind.” Emma toyed with her fork.

“The boys are good about checking for things that need to be fumigated, lass, so don’t worry about that.” She rubbed Emma’s side and kissed her temple when Vincent asked everyone to sit down. “Try to let it go for now, and we’ll talk about it later.”

Emma nodded. “Sorry, I told you to cool it before we left the house, and it’s me who loses her shit when I see that bitch in the bathroom. And before you say anything, Shelby is no better than the rest of them. I don’t care what her excuses are. There should be a limit to how far you go even when it’s something you want so badly you’re willing to sell your soul to get it.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you, but right now let’s enjoy our night.” Cain stood from her chair, taking a moment to observe Marianna Jatibon. Ramon’s wife had come a long way in accepting what Dallas meant to her only daughter and seemed to genuinely enjoy her company. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

She went through a back door and headed down to the private room under the restaurant that was swept daily for bugs to keep prying ears out. This was the council her grandfather had set up years before—a way to iron out any details or head off any problems they were having with joint ventures, and a means to offer help to whoever needed it with minimal blowback.