“I think that’s a good idea,” Liam said. “I don’t think Claire should be alone. Not until your boss pulls his head out of his ass and shuts Rutledge down.”

“I was always the smartest man in the office,” Gunnar said.

“And, like Mr. Quinn, ever so humble.”

“Mr. Quinn should get going,” Liam said, rising. “I want to go see my grandmother.” He clapped Gunnar on the back. “You did the right thing. Hopefully, Containment will recognize that. If not, they’re idiots.”

Gunnar nodded. “Appreciate it.”

Liam gestured toward the door, motioned for me to follow. The night was still, humid, quiet. The memorial songs had all been sung.

“I want to check on Eleanor,” he said. “Just in case. I have some favors I can call in for extra security, and I think it’s time to do that. I want to make sure she’s protected.”

“Favors?”

He blew out a breath. “I’ll have to ask Solomon.”

I winced. “There’s no other way?”

“Not after tonight. And his price will be high. But there’s no avoiding it.” He glanced back at Gunnar. “He’ll be all right?”

I nodded. “I think so. He’ll adjust, or the Commandant will come to his senses when Rutledge causes more trouble. That seems pretty inevitable.” And that reminded me. “Be careful in Devil’s Isle. He could still have friends.”

His gaze softened. “Are you worrying about me now?”

I let my gaze linger. “I know you can take care of yourself. But I might have heavy furniture that needs lifting. So it’s always good to have muscle around.”

He grunted a laugh. “Hilarious as always.”

“I’m trying,” I murmured as he walked away. Because I wasn’t sure what else to do.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The smell of rich coffee wafted upstairs. I came down in a robe, my hair pulled into a bun, to find Gunnar and Liam sitting at the store table. They held mismatched mugs, and there was a carafe in the middle of the table. I paused on the stairs, waiting until I’d composed myself.

“Bonjour, Claire,” Gunnar said. “Liam is teaching me some Cajun French.”

“Oh, good. Now both of you can mutter under your breath in a language I don’t speak.” I pointed at the carafe. “Is that coffee?”

“The real deal,” Gunnar said. “Courtesy of Mr. Quinn.”

“Thought we could all use it,” Liam said.

So he thought he could woo me with coffee. I poured coffee, held the warm mug in my hands, and closed my eyes to enjoy the steam that drifted up. I took a drink. It was hot, strong, black. I felt better almost immediately.

All right, it was a good play. “God, I miss coffee.”

“You sell coffee.” Gunnar pointed to it. “It’s over there.”

“Since we don’t get it very often, I didn’t want to get used to it. And besides—it’s never as good as when someone brings it to you.”

I looked at Gunnar. “You seem to be feeling better.”

“I did what I could,” he said. “I’m not going to sit around because they aren’t handling it well. I’ll give them time to investigate, and then I’ll make my case. I’ve got a friend, a colleague, who I’ve asked to keep me updated.”

“Good,” I said, and glanced at Liam. “How’s your grandmother?”

“Fine. No incidents.”

I looked at Gunnar. “And Tadji? Her mother?”

“Good. No incidents for them, either. Bigger picture, I don’t know what that means. Maybe that Rutledge is retooling. Hopefully, that he’ll give us a little time before he moves again.”