Page 5 of Blades and Bone

Chapter Three

Nothing was left to chance when another family was arriving, not just in their territory but at their main resort. Brodie watched as the three blue SUVs approached what was referred to as the celebrity entrance. There were two Ashbys and two Reids in each vehicle.

In one of them was the man he was supposed to wed.

Could they swap dossiers and make corrections?

All Brodie had been told was to be there to greet them and ensure they were set up in the private bungalow, which was more like a small mansion with eight bedrooms, each with an ensuite, several entertaining areas, and a pool, even though they were right on the beach. They would, of course, have their own chef and staff while staying, and hotel security would keep regular guests away—he didn’t want the Reids snacking on humans who strayed too far.

He waited on the steps to the bungalow with the keys. His sister would only make herself available for the actual talks and the sealing of the treaty. He inhaled, still not liking the way she had sold out his life so easily, even though he understood her reasons.

He didn’t understand her fear of the Orlans. They had enough on their plate dealing with the Reids and trying to take over the west. This treaty seemed to benefit them more than the Ashbys.

The SUVs parked, and the world went silent for a heartbeat, as if waiting to see who would step out of the vehicles. Who had survived the ride?

A rear door opened, and a man stepped out, Garrick Reid, which meant Ann would be next out. Sure enough, she was. He’d studied the Reid family more intently since being told of their arrival.

Ann walked toward him, her gaze assessing him in seconds. She nodded. “Brodie…where is Vivian?”

He wasn’t about to tell the truth and say resting. “Working. She will be here once you are settled for the first of what I am sure will be fruitful discussions.”

Ann’s eyes narrowed at the slight, but she said nothing.

Another man got out of the second car along with another woman. She was younger, one of Ann’s daughters. She’d be the one taking over at some point.

Finally, Hamish Reid got out of the third vehicle along with another man. Like the other men, he was wearing a suit. His shoulder-length hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and he seemed rather unimpressed to be there.

They had that in common.

Until it was agreed on paper and signed in blood, Brodie owed the man nothing. They were still…not enemies, nor friends, but something in between where anything could change the dynamic and lead to war.

They couldn’t fight a war against the Reids and win. The Ashbys didn’t have the numbers.

“Come in, and I will show you around.” Brodie stepped back and unlocked the door, inviting the other family inside.

Garrick led the way, with Ann following. They would be judging the accommodation and whether it was worthy of their status. He waited by the door as the others filed through. Garrick scanned the room as if expecting an ambush.

Hamish entered and lifted his gaze, but he wasn’t assessing the safety of the bungalow; it was to take in the chandelier and artworks. Brodie took a moment to study the man. He seemed younger than his age in the file. Yet he had apparently completed his nursing degree and subsequently been blooded. The Reids waited for the males to finish their education before giving them a choice.

But it still seemed too young to him.

Hamish was barely twenty-three, and he clearly was not up to the same level of protection the others were. This was the best the Reids had to offer? He was Vivian Ashby’s brother, and they were offering a half-baked nephew.

And the offer had been accepted without his input.

Hamish caught him watching and frowned before snapping his attention to Ann and Garrick. Interesting…he had assumed that Hamish had been told, which would lead to a mutual assessment. Instead, it appeared that Hamish didn’t know. Why else would he react so indifferently?

Why hadn’t he been told?

Brodie shut the door. “This is a secure bungalow with human resort security outside to prevent guests bothering you, or any celebrity we have staying.” He wanted them to know this was exclusive and expensive. “There is, of course, staff and a private pool. Access to the beach is via a signed path in the garden, though I cannot guarantee that the beach will be private. Rules have been agreed on for the duration of your stay. Do I need to go through them?”

“You do not,” Ann said.

“Tell your sister we will freshen up after the flight and be waiting for her in the meeting room.”

“Of course. Would you like a tour, or are you happy to sweep each room on your own?”

Some celebrities wanted a tour, and some sent their people through. No one trusted that the bungalow would be clear even though it was. His staff ran their own sweeps after the guests left.