“The two of us, what?” I ask defensively.
“Are terrible.”
“So terrible both you and London are madly in love with us?”
“Brainwashed is more like it.” She teases.
I shrug. “Whatever works.” I drop a kiss on her lips then place all five of my fingertips on a mirror hanging on the back wall of the condo. A moment later a pair of pocket doors slide open.
Ellie’s gasp is all I need to hear to know I’ve made an impression.
“You have an arsenal in your apartment,” she says as we walk into the secret room. Every wall is decorated with some kind of specialized firearm—submachine guns, assault rifles, breaching shotguns, sniper rifles.
“We like to call it the Toy Box.” Juice spins in his chair and stands up. “Welcome home,” he shakes my hand.
“Thanks. Wish it was under different circumstances.”
“You? I know you.” Ellie interrupts us, examining Juice closely.
“Ma’am,” he says with a smile, which sparks her recognition.
“The driver?” She looks up at me.
“Well, I couldn’t just send anyone to pick up my precious cargo.”
“You work for him?” she asks Juice.
He laughs boastfully. “I workwithhim,” he corrects her. “And I’m CJ, by the way.” He puts his hand out.
Ellie takes it graciously. “It’s nice to formally meet you.”
“You, too.”
A moment later the door opens and Jett appears. “Did I miss anything?” He walks in donning a new shirt.
“Just introductions,” I tell him.
“How is London feeling?” Ellie asks him.
“Still not great, but she’s resting.”
“Good.”
“Maybe you can go keep her company,” I suggest, glancing at Jett, “while we work.”
Ellie catches on immediately. “Oh. Yes. Of course. I need to charge my phone anyway. I have a bunch of calls to make.” She starts backing up.
“Who do you have to call?” I follow her, opening the door so she can get back into the apartment.
“My mom. My sister. Mark. Michael.”
“Michael?” I step out after her, possessiveness flaring.
“Yeah. I just picked up and left. I sort of owe him an explanation.”
“You don’t owe him jack shit, Ellie,” I snap.
“Kayne. Don’t be ridiculous. He’s my friend.”
