Finishing the last of my drink, I head for the bar to make another one. Looking out the window as I sip it this time, I can see their reflections. Serious, maybe a wee bit concerned. But they’re fighting their eagerness for a powerful new ally. “Have you contacted Collin already?”
“We believe the first move should come from you as her husband. He’ll be highly motivated to help us find Richard Armstrong and crush this new threat,” Cormac says.
Briefly, I hate them both. “You are absolutely sure of this?” I set my glass down a little too hard, watching a crack streak through the thick crystal.
“Aye. there’s no doubt.” Cormac holds up a folder with an 8x11 photo at the top of a pile of paperwork.
Collin Harris bears a striking resemblance to his granddaughter, the shape of his face, and they both have distinctive blue eyes, flecked with gold. This feels like a betrayal. Luna will immediately believe that I hurried her into this marriage for the potential alliance.
“Give me some time to get closer to Luna and earn her trust,” I say, wanting to bargain for a few days without this discovery hanging over our heads.
“I understand why you’re hesitant,” Da says. “I know this could strain your marriage, though it might strengthen it, too. But we have bigger issues at play. The bidding for this nerve gas formula is attracting some huge players in the crime world. Several of them will not hesitate to use this gas without concerning themselves with how many thousands of innocents they’ll kill.”
“We have several other families on alert,” Cormac continues, “The Corporation in London, the Doyle Mob in Belfast. Maksim Morozov contacted me from St. Petersburg. He’s concerned that a rival Bratva out of Moscow is bidding for the formula.”
Unreasonably, I’m furious with Georges. Fecking little suck-up. Overachieving walloper. “I’m going to stab Georges - your techgenius- in the throat next time I see him, fair warning.”
Cracking my neck, I head for the lift without the courtesy of a goodbye.
Walloper - Scottish slang for a complete idiot
Chapter Twenty-Three
In which Kai and Luna are “For the Arts.”
Luna…
Kai is already gone when I wake up.
No note. Angus and Ian smile and shrug helplessly when I ask them if they know the whereabouts of my new spouse.
Irritably, I cook a ham and cheese omelet and French toast, making up plates for my two guards. They tried to refuse the first time I made them a meal, but I argued - successfully -that if they were tasked with the most boring job on the planet, watching me, they should at least be fed.
“Do you really not know where he is, or are you just not telling me?” I ask Angus, who is the more easily swayed of the two.
“Mrs. MacTavish-”
“Don’t call me that. My name is Luna.”
“I dinna know where the Boss is, but if I did, I’d still tell ya I dinna. This is standard protocol.” He looks apologetic as he says this, but I’m still pissed off.
“Even MacTavishwivesdon’t have a right to know?” Folding my arms, I hold his gaze. I’ve done too many stare-downs to blink first.
Angus’ expression goes from firm to vaguely guilty to acutely uncomfortable. When he finally opens his mouth and I think I’ve got him, he stuffs in an entire slice of French toast, chewing vigorously.
“This is such bullshit!” I stomp through Kai’s palatial townhouse. There’s nothing to clean, every surface is polished and shining. I’ve already cleared up the breakfast rubble.
Remembering his mention of a rooftop garden, I lope up to the third floor, looking for a roof access. The door is bolted shut with another one of his high-tech scanner things. “Seriously?” I shout to the ceiling, “Where the hell am I going to go?”
“Why are you so upset?”
Kai is leaning against the railing, eyeing me with a frown.
“Ohmygod!” I slump against the wall, my hand on my chest, willing my heart to slow down. “Why do youdothat? You have to stop sneaking around or you’re going to give me a stroke. No worries about Armstrong murdering me, you’ll do it yourself with your unnatural stalking skills.”
There’s a brief flash of something over Kai’s expressionless face when I call him a stalker, though it’s gone again in an instant. “Ian says you’re looking for me?”
“Yeah, I know you’re out there, living your best villainous life, but I’m not used to sitting around. I need todosomething.”
