“Let me clear my head and get back to you.”
The brothers exchanged a glance but Ash nodded. “Of course. Take whatever time you need.”
He reached into his breast pocket and produced something small, glinting dull gold under the candlelight. “I believe you were looking for this.”
It took a second for Jack to realize what it was. Daisy’s locket.
He took it from Ash, closing it in a protective but gentle fist. Tarnished and dented, the thin chain kinked in several places, the clasp bent but intact. It looked like nothing. A trinket from a pawn shop worth less than the drink in Hunter’s hand, yet somehow worth more than everything in this room.
“Where was it found?”
“South gardens. On the path, not far from where Welles had her pinned.”
Ash studied Jack with quiet curiosity but didn’t press. He never pressed. That was what made the youngest Volkov dangerous. He observed first and acted later.
“Thank you.” Jack tucked the locket into his breast pocket, feeling the slight weight settle against his chest. He glanced back at Daisy, still animated with her friend, bright and open in a way that made him love her that much more.
Would she look just as happy when he returned the locket? He wanted to find out. Didn’t want to wait, but also didn’t want to share that moment with so many strangers still lingering about.
He smiled as she laughed again with her friend. Let her have this.
“There’s also the matter of Hadrian Welles,” Hunter said, his voice gravel and glass. “Next step is your call.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “I’ll deal with him on my own time. Send him home.”
Hunter’s dark brow lifted. “Perhaps with a referral to a good dentist, da?” The ghost of a smile cracked on his scarred face.
Ash’s lips twitched. “He will not be flashing that arrogant smile any time soon.”
“Nyet,” Hunter grunted, the closest sound the man had to a laugh. “You want to explain why Peter Pangbourne is also locked in a holding room?”
Jack’s molars ground tight. He’d acted on jealous instinct, not protocol. Peter hadn’t broken any rules. Watching him put his hands on Daisy made Jack see red, but he hadn’t violated his contract.
Detaining him was personal, and the Volkovs knew it.
“Send him home.” The words tasted of rust. “Let him be his fiancée’s problem.”
Ash arched a brow but said nothing.
A burst of shrill laughter erupted across the hall as a tribute slammed into Daisy and her friend, her jubilant voice carrying above the remaining crowd with the subtlety of a foghorn.
“There you two are!” the tribute yelled in a brass American accent.
Daisy’s face split into a grin as the three of them huddled together, the American gesturing wildly, her crimson dress clinging to her frame through what appeared to be sheer force of personality.
“The cleanup will take a full day, at minimum,” Ash said, pulling Jack’s attention back. “The grounds are wrecked. Torches toppled. Two cabanas collapsed. The reflecting pool has a full tuxedo floating in it. And someone drove a golf cart into the south fountain.”
“The fountain’s marble,” Hunter muttered.
“Add it to my bill,” Jack said, gaze distracted by Daisy’s stunned face as the American rambled on then disappeared as quickly as she arrived.
Something in her expression shifted. Softer. More serious. She glanced in his direction and he quickly looked away before she caught him staring, pretending to be engrossed in whatever Ash was saying.
His capacity for people had a shallow floor, and he’d hit it. The only company he wanted was Daisy. But he didn’t want to come on too strong. Now that the hunt was over, she was free to come and go as she pleased.
What if she changed her mind about staying with him?
Paranoia crept in, quiet and insidious, threading through his ribs like wire tightening around bone.
