40 - Jocelyn
~ 40 ~
JOCELYN
The arrival of Roman Wynter came as a complete shock to everyone but us. He stormed into the manor flanked by two men; one of them being the pilot, the other being Morris, the guy with the neck tattoo that I’d seen before.
The man was blond-haired and blue-eyed, which I hadn’t expected, and sported the biggest pair of shoulders I’d ever seen. He was gargantuan in size, larger than life — the perfect caricature of your typical 80’s action hero; all swollen on steroids and performance enhancers and God only knew what else.
Instinctively, Kayden pushed me behind him. Not that it would’ve mattered. If the man had any interest in me at all, there was nothing stopping the mercenary captain and his men from shoving everyone and everything aside. Fortunately, Roman Wynter had but a single interest upon entering the kitchen. And it had nothing to do with me.
“BEER.”
He didn’t shout the word but he said it lustily, and it sent everyone scrambling. Dorothea, already white as a sheet, pointed in the direction of the walk-in. Roman Wynter pushed past her, flung open the door, and disappeared inside.
The clank of bottles was the only noise in the entire manor, as everyone else remained in place. Several moments passed, and when the mercenary captain emerged from the refrigerator again he was holding three bottles of beer pinched between the fingers of each big hand.
“R—Roman!”
Raif came rushing in just then, scrambling to make up for his absence. It was fun, watching him grow increasingly more alarmed with every passing second. He held his tablet pinned so tightly against him, I was sure the screen would break.
“There’s whiskey in your room, of course,” Raif said quickly. “As per your instructions. If you wanted beer, all you had to do was—”
“Raif?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
Somehow I was able to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. Raif’s usual complexion had always been somewhere around zombie apocalypse Now he turned pink, then red, then purple.
“I’m going upstairs now, to sleep,” Roman continued, staring the man down. “If someone disturbs me, I’ll kill you first. Then them.”
Raif swallowed, his Adam’s apple traveling up and down the entire expanse of his long neck.
“Yes, sir.”
All eyes followed Roman as he headed for the exit, with Raif scurrying after him. The six-pack of bottles dangling from his fingers rattled noisily with every step. He stopped halfway and whirled on Kayden.
“When are we eating?”
“Dinner’s at eight o’clock,” Kayden replied without missing a beat. “Sharp.”
The mercenary nodded, and growled an acknowledgment. He left the kitchen on long, powerful strides that had his men struggling to keep up.
The very second he was gone, Bishop and Andre slipped into the kitchen through the side door. Kayden and I retreated to the corner, and motioned them over.
“Holy shit,” Andre swore. “Did he actually become more of an asshole?”
“At least he’s in a good mood today,” quipped Bishop.
“Did I hear him say he was going up to his room?”
“To sleep,” Kayden affirmed. “Yes.”
Andre looked over his shoulder and shook his head slowly. “Things are going to move fast from here on out. Especially after… what happened.”
He looked pointedly at me, and I nodded toward Kayden.
“I already told him.”
Now it was Bishop’s turn to be confused. “Told him what?”
Together, the three of us filled him in on the events at the lake regarding Jacob Foley. Bishop’s look of complete dismay was crossed by vehement anger, and ultimately, concern for my well-being. When the tale was over, he placed his hands on my hips.
“You sure you’re alright, Joce?”
His concern wasn’t just genuine, it was heartfelt. It made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “Really.”
“Because that pig deserved what happened,” he pressed. “You know that, right? It’s not like you should feel bad, or responsible, or—”
“Bishop?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
With that I smiled and kissed him, before gently pushing his hands from my hips. Pity was the last thing I needed. Comfortable shoes, yes. An outfit that didn’t make me look like I worked at the Olive Garden, sure. But not pity. Not when there was still so many ways we could get ourselves killed.
“C’mon,” I urged the three of them. “Cocktails are at six, and we’re nowhere near ready. Joe needs help setting up the tables. And you,” I pointed specifically at Kayden, “have about a thousand hors d’oeuvres to prepare.”
They didn’t move at first. Maybe because they were too busy staring back at me admiringly, maybe even in ways that no one had ever looked at me before.
“What the hell did we do to deserve you?” asked Kayden.
In my stupid server’s outfit, I curtsied.
“I’m not too sure, actually. But if we ever get out of this?” I winked. “The three of you can make it up to me.”