Chapter Thirty-Six
In which Kai is ahead of the game and Luna is not getting the wine tasting she was promised.
Kai…
“Hey, Kai. We’ve got movement. Luna’s uncle just put her in his car, they’re heading in the direction of the Harris compound.”
I’ve worked with Roger many times over the years. He’s ex Special Forces, and there’s no one I’d trust more with my wife’s safety.
“Other concerns?” I ask. I’ve been tracking Luna’s calls and texts since she arrived in California, and other than speaking with my sister and cousins, it’s been a quiet period.
“My man inside the compound says there’s an unusual burst of energy, more guards coming in. It looks like they’re getting ready for guests, more than just your wife.”
“I know who it is.” I’ve been grinding my teeth so hard that it’s a miracle I haven’t cracked a molar. “One of our hackers picked up the transmissions between Armstrong and Malcolm Harris.”
“Well, shit.” There’s a deep sigh, and I know Roger’s running through his options. “I can have twenty men on site within two hours. If I had more notice, I could have an army here, but…”
“Twenty men is grand; your eyes on the compound are our most valuable advantage. I’m already in the air and about three hours away. I’m bringing twenty-five of my own people.” Looking around the crowded jet, I see expressions ranging from determined to decisively pissed off. My family wants Luna back almost as much as I do. “I’m guessing I’ll be gettin’ a call from Malcolm Harris any moment, demanding to trade Luna for me.”
Gary snorts. “He will then turn around and offer you both up to- what did you call them? The Aristocrats?”
“He’ll break his word if he dinna let Luna go. Ya know how violating an agreement goes over in my world. He will, I’m betting, then give Armstrong her location so the son of a bitch can snatch her up.”
“Well, none of this will happen,” he says, “we have the element of surprise. Harris won’t expect you here until ten hours after he makes the call.”
“All this said, if ya see an opening…” I grit my teeth. “Ya take her, aye? Ya get my wife out of there by any means necessary.”
“Brother, I know.” Gary’s voice is low and respectful. “I know it’s costing you even to say those words. I know you want to be here, on the ground now. But we’ll get her out, okay?”
“Aye, I’ll call as soon as I hear from Harris, and we’ll coordinate ground movements.”
“Going through them as we speak. Be chill.”
I end the call and look up to see Da on his phone, his expression thunderous.
“When? Casualties? Any civilians? Call our contact in the police division there. Make sure they know the risks when they approach the building.”
He taps his phone against his forehead before ending the call and throwing his phone across the bank of seats. “Those motherfeckers found the location of the warehouse where we were holding Grayson Armstrong. They threw a canister of the tear gas into the building fifteen minutes ago. It killed Armstrong and three of our people. No civilians harmed.”
“Goddamnit!” Michael paces the aisle, running his hands through his hair. “Did they leave a message, Uncle Dougal?”
“Aye,” Da growls. “The message was, your family is next.”
Logan looks ill. “This means they have the formula, they’ve compounded the gas, and it’s ready to go. If we dinna get to them before they sell it to Harris…”
“They want me as part of the deal,” I say, gripping his shoulder. “We have time.”
“Not much,” Da says, “but aye, we do. Everyone’s dispersing off the MacTavish estate, standard evasion moves. If they somehow get past us, they’re bombing an empty building.”
When my phone rings an hour later, the screen reads Unknown Caller. I know exactly who it is. I only wish I could pull Malcolm Harris through the speaker and tear him in half. If Luna’s grandfather knowingly offered her up, his punishment will go on long after he begs for death.
“Hello, Kai. Do you know who this is?” Malcolm Harris’s voice was deep, a raspy smoker’s voice and unbearably smug.
I want to say, Ya have the love of my life. If ya harm a single hair on her head, I will shred the skin off your bloated corpse. But men like Harris don’t understand love. So, I say, “You have something of mine, Harris.”
Luna…
Kurt is blessedly silent as we get closer to the Harris compound, a massive section of the valley with a palatial main house and several smaller - though equally ostentatious - mini-mansions around it. There are multiple swimming pools and a riding stable. Collin pointed it out to me during a scenic drive a couple of days ago.
“Why don’t you live in the compound?” I’d asked.
“Caroline was unhappy there,” he’d said, sadness creasing his brow the way it always did when he talked about her. “She wanted to raise our kids away from…” He gestured at the estate as we passed it. “Away from all that.”
But, back to Kurt.
He’s too happy, smiling and humming a song I don’t recognize. I’ve seen him sneer, and I’ve heard him laugh when something wasn’t funny, but genuine happiness? I can’t guess what brings him joy. I don’t know how lizards think.
As the towering iron gates open for the car, he finally speaks. “Uncle Malcolm has a hell of a night planned. It should be interesting.”
“I thought we were coming here for your dad?” I ask.
He glances over briefly before pulling into the circular driveway. “You still don’t call him grandpa, do you? It makes me wonder if you care about him at all.”
“Well…” Deep talk from Kurt? “I do care about him. But I did just find out that I have a family. It takes a minute to adjust. But Collin? He’s a wonderful person, and I’m honored to be related to him.”
He laughs like that is just the most entertaining thing he’s heard all year. “Dad? A wonderful person? Jesus Christ, what side is he showing you? He’s the head enforcer for the Harris Mafia. Do you understand what that means? Did your fake husband tell you anything about this world?”
“He’s not a fake husband,” I say sharply, turning to glare at him. “We’re legally married and, in fact, are planning a blowout wedding at his family’s estate.”
And you will not be invited , I silently add.
Wait. We’re not having a big wedding. I should be looking for divorce papers in the mail any day.
It feels like I just got punched in the heart.
Kurt stops in front of the house, parking his BMW at the end of a long row of expensive cars. “A real husband?” His hand comes up, and I flinch back. He grins and elaborately brushes some hair off my face. “What kind of a real husband lets his wife leave with a stranger, huh?”
“That’s because…” I try to find the right defense. “He’s giving me room. Kai knows how important finding this family is to me.”
As he leans closer, I can see a cocktail of crazy simmering in his eyes. They’re brown, thank god, not blue like mine and Collin’s. He smells like weed and too much cologne. “You’re not important to him, kitten. Or he’d be here with you.”
I jump, yelping when my door suddenly opens. “There you are,” Collin says warmly, “come inside. We’re having a wine tasting out on the terrace. The view of the valley from there is magnificent.”
Calming my racing heart, I refuse to look back at Kurt. Because fuck him, that’s why.
We do not go to the terrace for a wine tasting.
“Mr. Harris, the rest of the Council is waiting for you in the study.” The man nods his head respectfully to Collin while I gape at his honest to god butler’s uniform. He even has the requisite British accent. Of course these people have a butler.
Collin frowns. He didn’t know about this, either? “Very well. Thank you, Winston.”
Winston the butler falls in step behind us, along with a couple of guards who peel themselves off their stance against the wall.
This isn’t right.
I can feel how not right this is because if Collin doesn’t know about this deviation from his plans, it must be because his brothers don’t want him to know.
Or they know he won’t like it, whatever it is.
My palms are sweating, rubbing them against my dress, I hope it doesn’t stain the linen. I’d dressed up a little, thinking we were having a nice dinner or something.
Winston opens a door with a flourish and inside, I can see Malcolm lounging behind an enormous desk, the two other brothers, Jonathan and Lucas, are seated in front of it, like a tribunal. They’re all smoking cigars, and the smell is vile.
“There you are.” Malcolm ashes his cigar carelessly, missing the ashtray and blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Join us! Collin, I’d like you to meet a new friend.”
The door closes behind us and reveals the man sitting on a big leather sofa.
Richard Fucking Armstrong.