“So, the guards,” I start again, keeping my voice stern. “There will be anywhere from three to eight of them, depending on the day. Some stationed in the parking garage, others at the door to the building, and at least two at the elevator.”
I wait while she lets that sink in before continuing. “You’ll be given a code that’s unique to you. Don’t share it. If anything happens to suggest your code has been compromised, Scorpion will be in touch to give you a new one.”
“What might happen to compromise it?”
“We have a vast intel network. If something is happening, we hear it first.”
“A vast bribery network, you mean.”
“No one said anything about bribes. I’ve never bribed anyone in my life, Jane.”
But Ihaveleft sums of money wadded inside envelopes and shopping bags in many an ingenious place. We don’t call these bribes. More like shows of faith.I give you the cash; you do me a solid.Whether it is a politician, a cop, or even the mayor himself, we’ve had our fingers in everything over the last few years. It was necessary to build our influence.
“You can call it whatever you want,” she says flatly. “A bribe is still a bribe.”
I shrug. “Want another glass of wine?”
We have a flight attendant and I don’t technically need to be the one playing fetch for Isla, but I feel responsible for her.Besides, Gena knows better than to come into the cabin unless she’s requested. Like everyone else, the less she overhears, the better. She gets paid incredibly well to do her job and look the other way.
Isla looks down at the empty glass she’s holding. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
I remember from the reception and her night at the bar that she’s a lightweight, so I don’t push it. I need her to pay attention to what I’m telling her.
And I also can’t help but feel relieved that she’s starting to look more like herself. Now that I’ve been antagonizing her, some of the color has returned to her face. She’s still agitated, but the distraction seems to be helping.
“Fine, then. The rest of the rules. Keep to yourself. Don’t tell anyone where you are unless you’re on a call with 9-1-1 and they need to send an ambulance to get you.” I pause, mulling over that directive. “Actually, on second thought, don’t. You’ll be better off and much safer calling me, Scorpion, or Lucky.”
“I’m feeling positively warm and cozy already,” she drawls. “So, let me get this straight. I’m going to be a prisoner at my bestie’s penthouse for the next two weeks and kept under armed guard. No one can know where I am, and I can’t leave until Luna and Priest show back up from their honeymoon.”
“You can also leave if I accompany you.”
My revelation goes as predicted.
“Absolutely not.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not going to answer to you, Alessio.”
“You don’t have a choice. I’m responsible for you, and I’m also responsible for making sure that Luna and Priest have the best uninterrupted honeymoon of all time. That’s not going to happen if you do something stupid when you’re grabbing a cup of coffee around the corner.”
To be fair, it’s not like Priest told me that Isla couldn’t leave the penthouse without me. He just asked that she have an armed guard at all times. But I’m taking it one step further and making sure I’m around whenever she leaves the penthouse. Too much can go down, and it can happen in seconds. Then I’ve got a war on my hands.
“What if I don’t drink coffee?”
Always a fighter, this one.
“Sue me for the guess.”
“Actually, I’m more of a tea woman.”
“Figures.” I shrug. If my brothers could hear this shit, they’d laugh me out of the nearest plane window. We’re debating fucking hot morning beverages of choice, for God’s sake. “Doesn’t matter where you go. Wherever it is, I’m tagging along.”
“What if I stay in the penthouse for two weeks?”
“Suit yourself. I’ll still be checking in regularly, regardless.”
As soon as I say it, I’m tempted to kick myself. I don’t need to check in with her. Priest didn’t even ask me to. What the hell am I thinking? It doesn’t matter. I said what I said, and I can’t take it back.
We hit a patch of turbulence, and she goes pale again, her knuckles white as she grips the armrests. She’s definitely got a fear of flying, but she doesn’t want me to know about it.
Some foreign and totally unfamiliar part of me wants to comfort her. But I’m not about to do that. So I get up instead and fetch her another glass of wine before returning to our seats. I’m aware of my brothers watching me as I go, but they’re too smart to say anything to me. I’ll probably hear about this later.
