Page 3 of Tamed Enemy
Breagha looks like I just kicked her favorite puppy. “I thought we were spending the night.”
“We were,” I say. “Change of plans.”
“You said we could get room service for breakfast, in the morning.”
“We will, another time.”
Granny tilts her head, as if she hears some distant fire alarm. “Go on,a stór,” she says to Breagha. “Fetch my bag as well.”
But before my sister can move, a chorus of car horns sounds outside. Instead of moving for the bedroom as I’ve asked, Breagha whirls back to the balcony. Pointing to the street twelve stories below, she says, “Look at all the lights! No one’s going anywhere.”
A river of red lights flows toward Georgetown and home. The traffic is bumper-to-bumper, automobiles frozen by traffic lights, by buses crawling to their next stop, by pedestrians heading for the subway. The crowd that gathered for the national fireworks has overtaken the streets.
Cole finally steps out from behind me to say, “She’s right. It’ll take hours to get home.”
“But we can’t just sit here! Not with—” I cut myself off. I’m terrified by the thought of what Nikolai Tarasov could do if he finds us here, exposed. I killed his son, and the Russian shitehawk won’t rest until he has revenge.
But Breagha doesn’t have any idea what I’ve done. Granny either. To them, this is a joyful holiday outing, made all the more fun because wedon’thave to fight the traffic down below.
Cole says, “We’ll stay.”
I know that tone. No amount of my arguing will change his mind.
Before I can even try, he says, “Breagha, why don’t you check the freezer? I think there might be something room service left behind…”
My sister shoots me a curious glance as she crosses the room to the suite’s kitchenette. She knows I never give in to anyone without a fight. But whatever questions she might ask are driven away by her delight when she opens the freezer’s stainless-steel door. “Bomb Pops!” she exclaims, grabbing a cardboard box.
She distributes them like a queen dispensing favors, first handing out frozen treats, then circling back with paper napkins, then collecting plastic wrappers. Her lips are already stained cherry red when Cole returns his pop to the freezer.
“What—” she starts to ask with a frown.
He gives her a reassuring smile. “I have to make a quick phone call. I’ll be back before you get down to the white part.”
“Do you need any help?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
I’m not satisfied. “Who are you calling?” I press.
“Sawgrass,” he says, with a meaningful glance toward my sister and my grandmother.
I don’t know if they recognize the name, butIknow that Sawgrass Corporation deploys a private army of the most skilled mercenaries anywhere on the planet. Our Georgetown home is already guarded by Sawgrass men. And from the look on Cole’s face, he’s about to request additional support here at the hotel.
“Kate!” Breagha says as Cole turns toward the privacy of our bedroom. “Your Bomb Pop is melting!”
I look down to find sticky blue juice coating my fingers, and I fight the urge to toss the melting treat into the sink. I want to follow Cole into the bedroom, to close the door behind us, to listen to him order up guards to protect us before I let him distract me from all the nagging fears chewing their way through my belly.
But my sister is laughing, and my grandmother is waiting, and I have to believe my husband has everything under control—as much as possible. For now.
So I lick the sweet berry-flavored juice from my hand, and I challenge Breagha to a contest to see which of us can finish our pop first. I laugh when she wins, even though my effort lodges a sharp, steady ache behind my eyes. Or maybe that pain is a holdover from the video. From the war I know is coming.
2
COLE
In the end, myquick phone calltakes well over an hour. It’s a holiday, so I don’t waste time calling Sawgrass headquarters. Instead, I reach out directly to the private army’s presiding general, Sawyer Best. We met years ago at Diamond Freeport, a Delaware tax haven where we both shelter substantial chunks of our respective billions.
“Best,” he answers on the first ring.
