In which unwelcome wedding guests never bring good gifts or good news.
Lachlan…
“Who the feck is that?”
Dougal’s looking up, and turning to follow his gaze, I see a helicopter heading for the estate.
I don’t like this, and my instincts are rarely wrong. “Are any of the guests cleared for a landing?”
He’s already on his way to the estate’s head of security. “Ian? Who’s on that chopper?”
Ian’s older, salt and pepper black hair and lines carved into his face from the pressure of keeping the MacTavish Clan safe. He’s got his hand cupping his earpiece. “What do you mean, they want to land? Get an ID.”
The helicopter’s close enough now that the wind from its rotors is beginning to stir up Ma’s elaborate flower arrangements, guests are holding down their hair and waiters are diving for the buffet table, trying to keep the lobster puffs and salmon tartare from flying away.
“Sir, the pilot says he has Juan Alonso aboard with a wedding gift, and he’s insisting he needs to land because of a fuel leak.” Ian looks just as skeptical as I am.
“That’s shite and we all know it,” Dougal mutters. “What do you want to do?”
Aria’s hand slips over my shoulder. “What’s going on?”
“Juan Alonso is here. He’s the heir of the Alonso Cartel,” I say, “he wants to land. He says he has a wedding gift for us.” Looking down, I frown at the sight of her white face. “What? Has he moved against the Kings?”
“He was pushing for a marriage with Elana. Uncle Bastard was trying to arrange it before… before. Why is he here? There was no official agreement.” Her fingers are digging into my arm. “Make him go away.”
Sheet music is flying off the musicians’ stands and my mother is charging toward us with death in her eyes.
“I’ll surround him with guns, but let’s allow him to land before he destroys our wedding,” I say, squeezing her hand. “Ian, send him to the helipad. Have at least twenty guards there before he touches down.”
“On it,” he says grimly, heading off at just under a run, barking instructions into his headset.
“There’s no reason for Alonso to be here unless he’s under the illusion that we’ll agree to this match,” Aria says, already looking around for her sister.
“What’s going on?” Zed steps up to my left.
“What do you know about the Alonso match your uncle was trying to set up for Elana?”
Zed looks so much like Aria, especially now when he’s clearly concerned, his eyes narrow and his jaw sharpens. “Nothing. Where the hell did this come from?”
Guiding them both away from the party, I catch him up as we head for the helipad.
“Uncle William never said a word to me!” he rages. “He had to know I’d never agree to it.”
The helicopter is already landing by the time we get to the back of the east garden, the rotors slowing as the pilot opens the door. Twenty-two of our guards are surrounding the helipad, guns already drawn.
I’ve met Pedro, the head of the Alonso Cartel before. He’s a madman who barely functions in polite society. The man getting out of the helicopter is a carbon copy, though thirty years younger. He’s wearing an expensive grey suit and an amused grin at the sight of our guards.
“Guns, guns, guns!” Juan laughs, spreading out his arms, “Such a welcome! It’s almost like being home again.”
“I don’t recall sending you an invitation to our wedding, Alonso,” I say. My gun’s a hot weight, resting in my shoulder holster and the urge to pull it on him is almost too much.
“Disappointing,” he says, striding forward. His hands are casually at his sides, but I know he’s keeping them loose and open to show he’s not intending to be a threat.
Yet.
“I was sure it was lost in the mail, since I’m Elana’s intended.” He grins at Aria and Zed, who don’t return it. “Though it is a shame that I didn’t know at the time that Aria here was an option. Your engagement was very sudden, wasn’t it?”
A growl rumbles through me before I can stop it, and his grin grows wider.
