Della made her way through his galley-style kitchen, running her fingers along the counter. “Don't give me that,” she said after a moment. “We both know you're very well connected among the Keepers. You ask, and that girlfriend of yours will oblige.”
“Still, I can't just send her off alone.”
In the blink of an eye, Della rounded on him with her arms crossed, her teeth bared in a snarl. “Then go with her!” she said. “God, Harry, do I have to think of everything tonight?”
Biting his lip, Harry let his head hang. He ran fingers through his thick black hair. “And what about Claire?” he inquired. “How's she going to get by when her father is so far away that she won't see him for months at a time?”
“Leave Claire to me.”
“Della…”
“I'm serious, Harry.”
Words found their way into his though
