“More like financial guerrilla warfare,” I conceded. “But yes.”
The whole thing was dangerous, I knew. But could anything be more dangerous than what we were already going through? Besides, in a situation like this, having that kind of leverage was often the only thing keeping you alive.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
I closed the laptop wordlessly, without denying it.
“Look, he’s the one who started this game.”
“I know.”
“He’s just never had anyone play to win, before,” I explained. “Everyone just… capitulates.”
“Well, not everyone,” Colson grinned.
“Oh.” I laughed. “Yeah.”
A recurring image of Peyton sprang to mind, racing through the streets of Nantucket with her torn dress flowing out behind her, in tatters. As always, I smiled.
“Ripley’s not going to like this,” Colson pointed out. “It’s too slow, too methodical. He’s going to want a more direct solution.”
“He’ll be fine. Especially since… well…”
“He’s falling for her?”
My gaze wandered to the frosted windows, beyond which the rest of the world awaited. On this side, they were all fogged with the warm, inside air.
“I’ve never seen that before,” Colson continued. “Ripley’s always been a loner. He’s never fallen for anyone.”
“You really think he has, though?”
“He admitted it to me,” said Colson. “Even before the fishing shack.”
The Marine leaned back into his chair and regarded me carefully.
“And what about you?”
I shrugged. “I’ve loved her since the first time I saw her, you know that.” I extended a finger and rotated it in a slow circle. “Way before any of this stuff.”
Colson rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. I didn’t have to wonder where he fit into this whole thing. I’d seen it in the way he took control over her body. I’d heard it in the things he’d whispered into her ear, as he drove himself deeper inside her.
Shit, I could read it in his eyes now, plain as day. As subtle as a brick through a window.
I couldn’t help the jealous heat that rose inside me. But strangely enough, knowing I had to share her made me want her even more.
It was more of a revelation, than an admission.
“Three men in love with the same woman,” Colson sighed, shaking his head. “That’s a tactical weakness.”
“Or a tactical advantage,” I replied.
His eyes moved from scanning the room back to me again. “How do you figure?”
“Donovan has no real friends, no true allies. His whole system of influence depends on dividing loyalties, and usingpeople as leverage against one another.”
“And we’re the opposite.”
I toasted him with my latte and took another sip.
