“There she is!” He bestows that alarmingly white grin on me. “Lovely to see you again.”
He’s got a German accent and I narrow my eyes, he’s vaguely familiar…
“We met at your father’s-”
“Stepfather,” Nate corrects him.
“Your stepfather’s Christmas party,” he continues. “A year and a half ago. I’m Christoph Warner.”
He says it like it should mean something to me, but I met an endless stream of Gavin’s business buddies when he forced me to go to his company parties. “Nice to meet you, Christoph,” I say in German. “Do you know that he intends to kill us?”
This does not seem to upset him at all, throwing his head back and laughing heartily. “No, noLiebling,sweetheart.” He answers me in German, too. “Your brother will die, yes. But you and I will be married. It’s taken too much time to locate you. We shall wrap it all up tonight in a tidy package.”
Why this is the most hilarious revelation of the night, I do not know. But I start howling with laughter, holding up my left hand. “A little late for that, asshole.”
“You told me-”
“This is unexpected-”
“We had an agreement, you fool! You’re wasting my time!”
Gavin and Christoph are shouting while their bodyguards eye each other uneasily. I can see the sweat beading on Gavin's forehead as he tells Warner that he can get the marriage annulled, but this isn't soothing the German much. The banker guy just keeps sorting his papers, like this shit happens all the time.
“Who the fuck did you marry!” Gavin screams at me.
I give him my sweetest, most angelic smile because I am a spiteful bitch. “Ethan MacTavish. You know, the Scottish Demon, the man you sent out to kill me? He’s not going to be happy about this. Not at all.”
My so-called German fiancé seems affected by this information, at least. “She’s married to aMacTavish?You fucking idiot! Thedeal’s off. You wasted eighteen months of my time? I intend to take it back with a large financial settlement from you.”
Nate takes my left hand, squeezing it. “Is he nice?” he whispers.
“Who, honey?”
“Your Demon,” he says.
My eyes get wet and I blink furiously. “Yes, he’s wonderful. I think you’re going to like him a lot.”
Chapter Forty
In which we learn that violence can be extremely satisfying.
Ethan…
There’s always men who think if their guards surround them, they’re safe. Sometimes, they command enough loyalty that they are. But I suspect a prick like Gavin hired men whose only loyalty is to money. This sort are either easy to take out, or they value their worthless hides enough to disappear when the shooting starts.
“Who’s this Warner arsehole?” I whisper to Morrie. He was thrilled to come along since his only exciting moments tend to be takeaway and Call of Duty. He has the answer almost instantly.
“Ah, a German industrialist. Another arms dealer. He’s got his stubby little fingers in all the local conflicts in Africa. He’s notorious for supplying both sides. He’s been working with Masters for a couple of years.”
“It makes sense that the son of a whore would try to marry off Sloan to him for an alliance,” snorts Catriona. She’s an epic shot, better than most of the men in the clan. She was already seated on her da’s jet when the rest of us showed up, casually mentioning that she was handcuffed to her seat and she’d be coming unless we had the time to try to find the key.
My cousin did a great job of slipping the bug under the table by Gavin as she put out the room service meals. My wife showed her eight fingers, clever thing. Ten more armed men showed up and we have a front-row seat to the ensuing arguments. Cat’s got her hands over her mouth, eyes watering as she tries to choke back laughter when Sloan shows her ring and sneers, “I'm married to Ethan MacTavish, the Scottish Demon,” which sets off another round of screaming and fighting.
Michael nudges me. “I think she likes ya.”
There are seven of us circling the cabana, I have two men perched on top of the surrounding structures with sniper rifles and another back at the boat, guarding our retreat. Eighteen in there. Seven of us out here.
But we’re Scottish. So it’s a fair fight.
