Page 19 of The Dauntless (Spy Girl 5)
He laughs at me. “I’ll be honest. I’m here because I’m following the girl.”
“Which girl?” I ask before I realize he means me.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” he says. “Ty Carlton.”
“And how are you related to the happy couple?” I ask as he moves closer to me and slides his hand down my arm in a very suggestive way.
“He’s the future groom,” Peter says, coming up from behind us.
I figure he will wrap his arm around me to indicate that we’re together.
Instead, he says, “Ty, this is my friend Huntley.”
Ty arches an eyebrow. “That’s right, Pete. I saw the girl you were dating just got engaged. What happened? Did she dump you for someone with more money?”
I halfway wonder if Peter is going to deck the guy just for the way he said Pete, which no one ever calls him.
“She got engaged to my brother,” I say with a tight-lipped smile. “She and Peter only dated briefly. And he’s fresh off a week in Ibiza. I mean, a serious relationship is the last thing he wants right now. He’s having way too much fun.” I turn to Peter. “Speaking of fun, what do you say we get out of here and go dancing?”
“Sorry, man,” Peter says to Ty. “She’s the boss of me. At least for tonight.”
I grab Peter’s hand, leading him off, and then turn around and say, “It was great to meet you, Ty, and congratulations on your upcoming marriage!”
“Oh. My. Gosh. You were awesome!” Peter says the second we’re out the front door.
“I thought you would pretend like we were together. When you didn’t, I figured it might be better to flaunt our carefree, single lives.”
“The look on his face when we said we were going dancing all night was priceless,” Peter says.
“And that I’m the boss of you for tonight suggested we were a very short-term thing. And for a guy getting ready to be in what’s supposed to be a lifetime thing …”
“Especially with the way he was hitting on you before I got there,” Peter says with a grin. “It was perfection.”
“I feel bad for Blair though. She seemed really great.”
“She is really great,” he says, looking off in the distance, but then he gives me a forced smile. “Speaking of dancing, I do know a great club.”
MISSION:DAY NINE
I wake up to the sound of Peter’s voice.
My first thought is, Where am I?
My second thought is, Why is Peter in my bed?
My third thought is, What happened?
“I think that last shot put you over the edge,” he says softly, which, with the way my head is pounding, I am grateful for. “I just ordered breakfast to be brought up.”
I rub my eyes, trying to remember last night. The engagement party. A nice dinner. VIP section at the club. A couple of shots. Dancing. Meeting lots of Peter’s friends. Two girls excited about an upcoming royal wedding. Talk of the royal baby watch. Me needing more shots.
Merde.
“Uh, thanks,” I say groggily. I sit up, surprised to find myself fully clothed. “I’m still dressed.”
“You fell asleep on the way home. I carried you upstairs and slept in bed with you in case you got sick. Hope that’s okay.”
I give Peter a wry smile. “You’re not at all what I expected.”
“We’re friends, Huntley. You only had a couple of shots all night long—well, until those girls opened their big mouths.”
“About Lorenzo?”
“About the royal baby watch. You do know that the whole purpose of their arranged marriage is the production of heirs, right?”
“Yes, I know that. I just thought they’d wait until they got married.”
Peter breaks out laughing.
“Stop that. It makes my head hurt.”
“No, Huntley,” Peter says seriously, “it makes your heart hurt.”
I put my head down and nod.
“What are you going to do about it?” he asks.
I think of Daniel’s idea. It seems like the most immature thing ever, but I reply with, “Who knows? Maybe I’ll be getting engaged soon myself.”
“Fight fire with fire. Stupid,” Peter says as our food arrives, “but I like it.”
While we’re eating, I ask him about our upcoming trip to the TerraSphere.
“What all do you want to know?” he asks.
“Everything,” I reply.
“Let’s start with the basics. We’ll leave just after midnight and sleep on the plane during the long flight. We’ll land at a military installation nearby and then travel by land to the top-secret location of the TerraSphere.”
“Is it top secret?”
“I’m just messing with you. It’s just a town with a weird shape—at least, on the surface.”
“There’s stuff underground?”
“It’s brilliant really. The project hasn’t even been commercialized, but it’s still a cash cow. The facility is owned by a subsidiary company and was a joint venture.”
“Does that mean your dad’s company has equal say in what happens with it?”
“Technically, no. We are investors. Von Allister Industries’ executive team and board of directors guide it, as they maintained the majority share in the venture. Soon, we’ll sell this project to countries all over the world and make billions.”
“Your dad said Ares worked on the project design for years before construction ever started and that the TerraSphere has been up and running for about seven.”
“That sounds about right.”
“How is it earning money already?”
“That’s the brilliant part. Although there is a contrac
t with the US military to fund the research of the TerraSphere and the building of the facility, Ares was smart. Under the TerraSphere, there is a whole other city that has nothing to do with what’s above ground.”
“What’s down there?”
“Storage space. Offices. Research facilities. Most of it is top secret.”
“Do you personally know what goes on in those spaces or what is stored in them?”
“Me, personally? No. But the people who work there reside in the Sphere and have basically been testing the living conditions for free.” He gives me a raised eyebrow and a grin.
“That is pretty creative. Can I tell you something in confidence?”
He takes a bite of lobster Benedict and then sets his fork down. “Absolutely.”
“The director of the CIA came to talk to me in Omaha. He says that the exclusive contract for the TerraSphere technology is coming to an end, that the government has asked for an extension, and that it’s imperative that it is granted.
“Ari and I were led to believe that our father had liquidated all his assets before his death. That we didn’t have any power. But it turns out that, although he did cash out of some stock, combined, we still maintain the majority. There’s a meeting on Friday in London where the board will vote on it.”
“And the director wants you and Ari to vote to extend the contract?”
“Yes, but it’s my understanding, that’s not what the chairman wants.”
“Then you need to figure out why he doesn’t,” Peter says, shaking his head. “I know my father thinks I don’t care about business, but I do. I can tell you everyone on each of our boards. They are important people who help guide our companies—and our wealth.”
“Thus your interest,” I tease.
“Absolutely. I’m not a fool.” He finishes eating the last few bites of his breakfast, wipes his mouth with a napkin, grabs my laptop from my desk, and pulls up the Von Allister Industries website. “You need to do the same. The chairman of the board is Harrison McClellan. He’s a friend of the family, which means he and Ares were probably close, too.”
“I recognize his name,” I say, wondering if I could ask if he’s the kind of guy who could want to end the world as we know it. “Big biotech firm, right?”
