10. Erik #2
I spend the rest of the lesson on what she can actually carry.
Rowan tests the pepper gel against an approved training target, checks the safety with her injured arm, then chooses a position inside her bag where she can reach it without searching.
She tests the personal alarm once and winces at the sound before clipping it beside the gel.
Makari waits beside the SUVs when we leave, holding two coffees. He gives one to Rowan and looks at the paper target tucked under her arm.
"I shot well," she tells him before he asks.
Makari studies her expression, then looks at me. "I assumed the target wasn't why you kept it."
Rowan opens the rear door of the second SUV. "I like him less again."
Makari waits until she's inside before turning to me. "You're soft in one direction."
"I'm not soft." I take the coffee he brought.
"You changed your teaching style because she disliked it. You gave her direct security access, let her dictate terms for her family this morning, and spent half the drive here checking whether her bandage had bled through." He starts toward my SUV. "Orell needs one weakness. You're providing it."
I look through the glass at Rowan. She's studying the target as if she intends to find fault with the grouping. "I know where the vulnerability is."
"That's not the same as controlling it." Makari opens the driver's door but doesn't get in. "You deny it, then increase protection on everyone around her in the same conversation."
"Her family is already exposed."
"That was true yesterday too."
I get into the vehicle instead of answering him.
By the time we reach the penthouse, the additional security is in place.
Laura agreed to another car after Makari called her directly.
Callie accepted the extra operator with a complaint about being nineteen instead of nine.
Harper refused a car, accepted an escort after dark, and apparently argued with Makari for several minutes about whether the operator was allowed inside her favorite coffee shop.
Liya is waiting in the penthouse office with a stack of embossed invitations when we arrive. Peter stands near the window with a shipping folder open in front of him.
Rowan follows me into the room and drops the range target onto the desk. Liya notices it before anything else.
"You kept the evidence."
"I'm surrounded by skeptics." Rowan takes the invitation Liya offers her. "What's this?"
"A donor reception Saturday." Liya opens the guest list on her tablet. "One of the principal donors has accounts overlapping the Zaitsev route. Recruitment weekend gives us a reason to have athletic staff, boosters, and selected players in one room."
Rowan scans the list. "Tyler is already on it."
Peter closes the shipping folder. "Which is another reason she shouldn't attend."
"Did I ask?" Rowan looks at him over the invitation.
"No, although that hasn't improved your judgment so far."
I intervene before they spend the afternoon insulting each other. "Rowan is attending."
Peter turns to me. "You're putting her in a room with Orell's financial contacts because she can ask questions."
"She can ask questions people will answer. That's more useful than keeping her behind a locked door."
Rowan watches me for a moment before returning to the invitation. She noticed the choice of words. I'm certain of it because she doesn't challenge them.
Liya's phone vibrates against the table. She checks the screen, stands, and walks toward the balcony doors. "I need to take this."
She steps outside before answering. Through the glass, I watch her turn away from the room and speak briefly before lowering her voice.
Rowan follows my attention. "You're suspicious of your own family too."
I shrug. "When they give me a reason to be."
Peter picks up the shipping folder. "Liya handles foundation business. She's allowed private calls."
"I didn't say otherwise."
Rowan leaves the office a minute later to put away the range equipment. The moment the door closes, Peter takes the shipping folder and slips it inside his coat.
I wait until he looks at me. "Put it back."
He frowns. "This doesn't belong in front of her."
"It was on the table because it belongs in the investigation."
"It contains Danilov shipping references." Peter keeps the folder where it is. "Your law student doesn't need every route our family has used for twenty years."
Makari looks between us and wisely stays out of it.
"You'll put it back before she returns."
Peter meets my gaze. "No."
Liya comes in from the balcony before I decide how much family harmony I'm willing to sacrifice over the folder. She slips her phone into her bag and resumes her seat.
I look at her. "Who called?"
"A foundation matter." She opens the guest list again.
"Which matter?"
Liya looks up. "One I'm handling."
Peter almost smiles, which makes his hidden folder more irritating.
Rowan comes back carrying her bag and stops inside the office. She takes in Peter's coat, Liya's phone disappearing into her bag, and the expressions around the table. "What did I miss?"
Makari closes his tablet. "Family cooperation."
Rowan looks at Peter again, then at Liya. She doesn't ask another question. She noticed enough without help.
The flowers arrive shortly afterward.
A building employee brings the arrangement into the penthouse because Rowan's name is on the delivery. Red roses fill a glass vase large enough to require both arms to carry, with a card tucked between two stems. Rowan is changing when I remove it.
Dinner after the reception? You owe me one chance without an audience.
--Tyler.
I read the message twice and dislike it more the second time. The assumption bothers me first. The flowers bother me second. Tyler Garcia believing Rowan owes him anything bothers me enough that I carry the entire arrangement into the service hall.
Makari watches from the office doorway. "You're about to prove my point."
I barely glance at him. "I have no idea what you mean."
He snorts. "You're carrying another man's flowers toward the trash chute."
"They're obstructing the hall."
Makari looks past me at the empty corridor. "The hall is six feet wide."
"Then they're an aesthetic problem." I open the chute and drop the roses inside.
Makari watches them disappear. "This is why I no longer bother arguing when you deny it." He shakes his head but is grinning.
The vase catches against the frame. I remove it rather than break glass in the chute, then put it in the building recycling bin.
Rowan comes around the corner while I'm closing the door. She looks at the empty vase in my hand and the card still between my fingers.
"What are you doing?"
I set the vase on the utility shelf. "Disposing of a delivery."
Her eyes narrow. "A delivery addressed to me?"
"Yes."
Rowan takes the card from my hand and reads it. Her attention moves toward the chute before returning to me. "You threw away Tyler's flowers."
"I recycled the vase."
"That wasn't the important noun." She folds the card once and slips it into her bag.
I return to the office because standing beside the trash chute defending myself won't improve the conversation. "The flowers were excessive."
Rowan follows me and closes the service-hall door. "You put a security schedule on my breakfast table, gave me a shooting lesson, and your objection is that a dozen roses are excessive."
I stiffen. "The schedule was removed."
"The roses were too." She stops beside the desk and studies me. "Why do you care who sends me flowers?"
Every available answer is worse than silence.
Rowan waits long enough to make clear that she isn't going to rescue me from the question. "You told Makari we were partners. Partners answer direct questions."
I finally exhale slowly. "I don't have an answer you'll like."
Her irritation fades into something more attentive. "I didn't ask for one I'd like."
Tyler putting his name on a card bothers me more than it should.
The thought of him sitting across from her at dinner bothers me more.
I don't like another man assuming he has a claim on her time, and none of those reactions fit neatly beside the boundaries Rowan and I have spent the last several days negotiating.
She steps closer. "I want the answer you have."
My phone rings before I can decide whether I'm willing to give it to her.