The guards exchanged quick glances but said nothing.
Last night I'd vetted Kenji's inner circle like I was screening Cabinet members. This morning, I had armed escorts reporting my movements to his Chief of Operations.
The absurdity of it hit me fresh.
Weeks ago, I'd been in New York, not broke, but not rich either pitching book proposals and happy that at least one editor thought the Japan story would be a good idea.
That publishing house approval had been the most momentous thing of the year.
Now so much had changed.
Two beeps came from the guard’s watch, then Reo's voice came in, rough and groggy. "Where is the Tiger going?"
The guard looked at me, clearly unsure how to answer.
I smiled. "I want to get some items out of my office and then I want to make tea."
He repeated my words into the watch verbatim.
Reo's response came with what sounded like a sigh. "Tell her we have people to do that."
I grinned at the guard. "Tell him he sounds exhausted and I'm perfectly safe. He can go back to sleep."
The guard delivered the message. His mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile.
Another pause.
Then, Reo responded, "Tell the Tiger thank you for her concern and that I expect a report of her returning to the Dragon within the hour."
Uh. . .okay.
I blinked.
Dude just gave me a curfew to be back in Kenji's arms.
I was a grown ass woman, but I understood. Kenji would be possessive about where I was, especially with a spy on the island.
And Reo—loyal, efficient Reo—was probably operating on two hours of sleep and doing his best to manage both the Dragon's obsessive need to know my location and his own need to collapse.
"Understood," I nodded.
The three of them fell into step around me as I made my way through the mansion—one slightly ahead, two flanking.
Professional.
Unobtrusive.
The kind of protection that looked casual but was absolutely lethal.
Alright. Time to check messages.
I pulled out my phone as we walked, checking my missed calls.
Oh shit.
Four from Grandma.
Four from Deja, my natural hair stylist.
