Away from the sharp eyes and ears of his brother, Liam shot Jamie a questioning look. “Say whatever is on your mind.”
“Is Oliver going to be at Ascot? I like to know who is on the field with me,” Jamie said.
“Most likely. He’s on a brief medical leave at the moment because he got caught up in the train wreck that happened on the tracks to Victoria Station.”
“Is he all right?”
Liam knuckled his eyes, trying to ignore the memory of Oliver’s broken, bleeding body amidst the twisted metal of the train car. “Nothing regen couldn’t fix. So far, Splice hasn’t been detected in the crash site, which leads us to believe the Reborn IRA doesn’t have access to the lab yet.”
“Is Oliver still in quarantine?”
“No. Onsite contamination check came up negative for him. MI6 took him to their medical center at their headquarters once UMG cleared him to leave. The explosion that happened wasn’t in the car he was on. I drove him home after the doctors finished with him.”
Jamie grabbed four beers from the refrigerator this time, easily pulling the cap off one after lining them up on the counter. “You normally wouldn’t do that for someone not on your team.”
Liam sighed as he watched the water slowly start to bubble up. “I was a shit friend to him when we were younger. I did something I now regret but didn’t care about back then. I’m trying to make things right, but he’s stubborn.”
“You like them stubborn.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jamie pointed a finger at him, a faint smirk curling his mouth upward. “Exactly what I said. You’re attracted to stubborn people.”
“So are you.”
“Just one of the many reasons why I married Kyle.”
“He’s good for you. I’m glad you found him.”
“Me, too.”
The quiet, pleased admission had Liam thinking about their younger years when the both of them had traded on their names and social status to bed whoever they fancied. Sometimes they’d even fucked the same person in the same bed, and in hindsight, Liam couldn’t believe they’d been so careless with their reputations.
“Where’s the beer?” Kyle shouted from the living room.
Liam rolled his eyes and nodded at Jamie. “Go take care of your husband. I’ll get the pasta sorted and then we’ll eat.”
Jamie saluted him with the beer in his hand, gathered up two of the three bottles on the counter, and headed back to the living room. Liam grabbed the beer left for him and took a gulp of it, wondering if it would be too forward to message Oliver and ask how he was doing.
Shaking his head, Liam left his tablet alone in favor of a night spent with family and friends.
10
The End Times Are Out for Blood
Ascot in Junewas humid and hot, making the air feel thick. Over the decades, climate change had altered the local weather so much that the famous racetrack had at one point attempted to erect a small biodome over the area. The cost was too prohibitive at the time, but Oliver wished the past organizers had managed to follow through with the idea.
Grimacing at the overbearing heat, he tugged at the collar of his shirt, discreetly wiping away some of the sweat trickling down his throat. The morning suit he wore, along with a top hat, was stifling in the midday heat. But the dress code for Ascot was absolute, especially for the Royal Enclosures and the Royal Box. The suit he wore was precisely tailored, so much so that he had been unable to requisition a weapon. Not that he thought the request would’ve been granted, but he’d have felt better with a gun at hand after what happened at Victoria Station.
Armed police were prevalent this year, patrolling the perimeter of the area encompassing the racetrack and grandstand. Extra security scanners had been set up at all entrances, undercover police patrolled the general areas, while the UMG had fielded the Royal Legion as an extra precaution. For the more restricted areas, the UMG and MI6 were relying on Liam, Oliver, and a handful of others who’d been issued weekly passes for the races.
Aiding Liam were Jamie and Kyle Callahan, specially invited guests of the queen. To the public, they were there as private citizens. Behind the scenes, Oliver knew it had been a tense dialogue between two countries working out support for the mission. It wouldn’t do well for the First Son of the president of the United States to be seen mixing it up in a fight on foreign soil.
Oliver stepped out of the way of a lady whose hat was wider than she was. The dress code in the Royal Enclosures and the Royal Box was a physical sign of separation between the wealthy and those who were not, or only pretending to be. Ascot was meant to be fun, but it always turned into an event where people came to see and be seen. Oliver’s family had standing membership with the racetrack, and while his parents made it out almost every year, he had stopped going years ago.
He blamed work, and that had held as an excuse until work had sent him to Ascot.
The irony wasn’t lost on him.
