Page 83 of Shark’s Pride

“Oh yeah?” Elijah straightened. At once, his lemon seemed to become a succulent strawberry. “Do tell. Apparently, I won’t be getting anywhere near the sweet and gorgeous Abbigail. Shark’s gone all broody possessive like an old married man over her.”

“She and I have enough challenges of our own at the moment without you and your monster dick getting involved,” I retorted. “So play nice on Twombley’s playground for the foreseeable future.”

“Challenges?” Grant cocked a quizzical glance over his shoulder. “Hold up. After your first array of shock-and-awe announcements for the morning?”

“I think I’m going to have to relocate her.”

My torpedo hit a double wall of silence.

“Who?” Grant finally pressed.

“Abbigail.” At least Elijah was able to follow the logic.

“Wait,” Grant blurted. “What?”

“Yeah. I think he means Abbigail.”

“Dude…”

“I’m serious.” I rose and joined my friends in front of the windows. On the streets below, cars and pedestrians were growing in number as the workday got underway.

“I don’t doubt that you are. But she’s not a possession, Bas. She’s a per-son.” Grant broke the word into two distinct parts, as if sounding it out for a very young child.

“You don’t think I get that?” I growled. “But whoever’s fucking with me is serious about this crap. That means they’ll start fucking with Abbigail soon.”

“You’re sure enough about that to send her away,” he volleyed. “Besides, the police—”

“Are worthless,” I groaned, looking to Elijah. “Banks, you were there when the police finally arrived at the house and started investigating. Did you get the impression they thought I was the innocent party? Because I sure as hell didn’t. There were moments, albeit brief ones, when I felt like they had my best interest at heart. But for the other ninety-eight percent of the interrogation—”

“You mean the investigation,” Elijah cut in. “Not the interrogation, Bas.”

“You think I care?” I spun from them, hiking my hands to my hips. “And you think they really do?” I scuffed my toe against the carpet in resignation. “The LAPD’s made themselves clear. To them, I’m the spoiled billionaire with the food poisoning that wasn’t. In their minds, they’ve got bigger issues to deal with—so I’m on my own for trying to figure this shit out. But it’s just a matter of time before this asshole and his friends crawl out from under their rock again—and what if they’ve figured out that the quickest way to me is through Abbi? I need to keep her safe above everything else. It seems like the easiest way to do that is take her to ground.”

I drew in a long breath at last. With sharp scuffs, I pivoted back around to stare at the two men. Only then did I realize that I was actually awaiting their feedback.

At last, Elijah posed, “What does she think about all this?” He slid his hands into his front pockets, rocking back on those damn loafers like a modern-day Perry Mason.

“Well, clearly she’s not happy.”

He hiked his eyebrows. “Right. Clearly.”

Grant moved forward again. “What about Pia and Vela? Are you going to safehouse them too? They’ll be equally big targets as Abbi.”

I shook my head the minute Grant mentioned my sister’s name. He knew better than to make such a ridiculous suggestion. My sister’s strong will damn near bettered mine. Shark genetics, at least in the texture of our skulls, ran strong.

“He has a point, Bas,” Elijah said. “Why do you disagree?”

“I don’t disagree at all.” I firmed my jaw and leveled my gaze. “But you’ve both known Cassiopeia since she was a little girl. Tell me, what do you think her response to something like that would be?”

Grins spread across both their faces—likely the result of them picturing my sister castrating me via various methods. I almost rolled my eyes, but I had only myself to blame for their hell spawn smirks. I’d walked right into that one.

“Oh, please let me be there if you make mention of it.” Grant clasped his hands in front of his chest like a begging choir boy.

“You’re such an ass,” I muttered.

“True, but not the point,” Elijah interjected. “Pia is a smart woman. And if she thought Vela was in an ounce of danger, she’d be the one coming up with a plan to get her to safety. We all know that. So it may just be a matter of how the problem is presented to her, Bas.” He let me digest his words before continuing. “You go into a conversation with your sister blustering and demanding and ordering her to do something? Hell yeah, she’s going to dig in and object.”

“Go on,” I urged—if only to examine Elijah’s mien a little more. If I wasn’t mistaken, I saw a glimmer of adoration, maybe even respect, in my friend’s eyes as he addressed the subject of my sister. My protective hackles didn’t like it, not one bit, but what he was speaking about also made a ton of sense. Logic I likely needed to hear right now.