Page 18 of Bulletproof

“Jory!”

I looked at Michelle, who had gone white as a sheet. “What?”

“Jory, Cristo Liron, Adrian Miller—those are very scary men.”

“Are they?”

“Oh God.”

“What?”

Her mouth was hanging open. Lisa had the same expression on her face, and Hayes Fisher was just staring at me.

“What?”

“You’re like a train wreck, waiting to claim lives.”

I was not.

“You’re dangerous.”

“Who’s dangerous?”

The deep, resonant voice—rich, smooth, and warm while sounding crisp and cultured—was clearly amused. Even before I turned around, I knew who I would find.

“Hey.” I smiled up at my brother.

As always, his expression as he looked at me was a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

“What have you done now?”

“Me?”

Gray eyes warmed, turning to quicksilver. I looked past him to the men he had with him—his best friend, Jude Coughlin; his brother-in-law, Alex Greene; and another good friend and my friend Aubrey’s husband, Rick Jenner. They all greeted me happily, but before Dane could make introductions, Hayes stepped forward.

“Mr. Harcourt,” he said, drawing in a deep breath as he offered Dane his hand. “This is a pleasure. The homes you’ve designed are some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

Dane took the offered hand, but he scowled at the same time. It was his default, and Hayes had interrupted him talking to me. That was never good.

“Thank you.”

“I actually have an appointment to see you in another three months. I’ve been on the list for six.”

“A mere six?” he asked coolly.

Dane Harcourt understood what his time was worth. Modesty did not live in the man. As one of the top architects in the country, he knew he was a desired commodity. It was a sign you had arrived if you could afford to hire Dane Harcourt to design your home. The rich and famous wanted him, but unless you were serious, you’d never see him. He weeded out the nouveau riche and the frivolous; dealing exclusively with connoisseurs of architecture. You had to be invested in quality to get an appointment, and even then, you waited. It was a test, and only a slight number passed. Those who did considered themselves to be in a very elite group.

“I’m looking forward to our meeting.”

“Yes,” Dane agreed that he probably was as he released the man’s hand.

“I had no idea that Jory here was your brother.”

Dane squinted then. “The same last name wasn’t a clue?”

“I didn’t even register it.”

“Interesting.” Dane sounded judgmental, which was never good. Had we been friends, I would have told Hayes to stop talking because Dane was, at that very moment, rethinking his appointment with the man.