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“Of course.” She paused and the sound of shuffling papers came in clear over the line. “Before you go there was a message for you from Ms. Olsen.”
The queen had spent ten years in New York City hiding in plain sight as a stylist named Elle Olsen, a common enough surname in Elskov. He’d argued she needed a different code name, but the queen was a stubborn woman. “What does it say?”
“That Mr. Colt has an appointment with another firm and can’t commit.”
Shocked, he pushed the Windsor knot up too tight on his neck and had to take a second to loosen it. Mr. Colt was Rolf Macintosh. And if he couldn’t commit, that meant that someone from up high had declared him untouchable. The Americans? The British? Both were likely candidates to look the other way on some of Rolf’s deadly deals in exchange for information that lead to juicier targets and headed off terrorist attacks. He couldn’t blame them, but still the new information tied a double knot around his balls.
“That’s too bad.” Yeah, that was one way to put it.
“Indeed,” Clausen said, only the barest hint of annoyance creeping into her tone. “Is there anything else you need?”
Something to go right before Gregers Henriksen got his hands on enough weapons to launch a guerrilla attack on Elskov.
Instead of voicing that thought, he said, “Just be sure to put the word out to my contacts about Jasper. We’re working on a tight deadline with the wedding this weekend.”
“Consider it done.”
He pocketed his cell phone and strode out of the bedroom, noting the discreet security cameras perched high along the hallway and the obvious guards posted at frequent intervals as he made his way down the stairs to the family dining room.
Three courses later, Lucas sat at the formal dining room table trying to pinpoint any weaknesses in the Macintosh family dynamics that he could exploit in his search for the date and location of the arms deal. Rolf sat at one end with Joey on his right. The two had spent the entire dinner in silence. Lucas sat at the old man’s left with Ruby next to him. At the other end of the table sat Ingrid Macintosh, who looked enough like her daughter to make the differences stand out. The nervous laugh. The flinches at unexpected noises. The fine lines around her tired gray eyes. The forced cheerfulness in her tone.
“So tell me, Luc,” Ingrid said in her soft voice. “How did you two meet?”
The question yanked him out of his thoughts, and it took a second to realize what she was asking. It was just long enough to make the quiet of the dining room scream.
“At the corner coffee shop.” Ruby took his hand in hers and brushed a kiss across his knuckles. “You know the one, Mom, right up the street from my apartment? I’ve texted you pictures of the funny signs they always put out front.”
Ingrid blinked a few times, her eyes vacant, before something in her daughter’s words seemed to catch hold and she smiled. “Yes. They had the sign about no wifi and having to talk to each other.”
“That’s the one,” Ruby said. “Well, I went in one day and ordered a huge mocha not realizing that my wallet wasn’t in my purse.”
“So I picked up her tab.” He finished her sentence as he draped an arm around the back of her chair, giving her shoulder a squeeze in thanks for how she’d covered for him.
She may not want to be here with him, and she was still trying to figure out how to hightail it off Fare Island with Jasper, but—for the moment—they were on the same team. The pinch in his lungs lessened, and for the first time since they arrived, he let himself relax.
“And how did you propose?” Ingrid asked.
“Nervously.” He chuckled, playing up the part of the charming Luc Svendsen who never met a woman he couldn’t put at ease.
“I can’t believe you thought I’d ever say no.” Ruby rested the back of her head into the pocket of his shoulder, looking every bit like a lovesick fiancée.
He shouldn’t be surprised, considering that she’d grown up literally in a den of manipulative thieves, but she took to the subterfuge like a gold digger to a four-carat diamond. If only she’d been someone different, Ruby would be the perfect ally.
Ingrid dabbed at her eyes, a soft smile turning up the end of her mouth. At the other end of the table, though, Rolf and Joey didn’t react at all. The two men were too engrossed in the smartphone lying on the table between them.
“That is just the most romantic thing.” Ingrid’s smile wavered, and she wiped at the wet spot under her eye. “I know that you two are a modern couple, but I do hope you’re willing to adhere to a few old traditions.”
He fidgeted in his seat. “What did you have in mind?”
She withdrew a long, thin gift-wrapped box from next to her plate and handed it to Ruby, who opened it. Inside was a long silver chain, a heart-shaped lock, and a key.
“What is it?” he asked, already knowing by the ashen tint to Ruby’s face that he wasn’t about to like the answer.
Instead of answering right away, Ingrid stood and walked over to them, a pair of scissors in her hand.
“First, you’ll need to remove your suit jacket and shirt,” she said as if it was a totally normal request. “Don’t worry, that’s the extent of how much you’ll need to disrobe now.”
He looked around the table. Someone had to object to this bizarre request. Rolf and Joey barely glanced up from the phone between them. Ruby had suddenly become entranced by her wineglass. Ingrid gave him an encouraging smile. Not liking it one bit, he stood up and stripped off his jacket and shirt.
