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“Beware of the coyotes amongst wolves.”
Dropping the tumbler into the bar, he heads for the door.
“They’re weaker creatures, but common. Even in a pack, they’re out for themselves. But ultimately, they are still the prey, and eventually their intelligence is outwitted, and they are snuffed out by their own arrogance and unprecedented confidence.”
“What game are you playing?”
“It’s not a game, son,” he replies without looking back at me. Standing in front of Murphy, he waits for him to move out of his way.
He doesn’t move until I give him a nod of approval. Opening the door, he steps to the side, standing tall and looming over my father-in-law.
Benedict looks at him from top to toe before turning to me.
“We’re hunting.”
“Who?”
“Be a good cub and stay out of the way.” With a nod he walks out of the hotel apartment only to stop and turn and face me again. “Focus on your role.”
The ice that burned as vicious as a fire begins to melt, and all that are left are violent flames licking at my insides. Threatening to destroy every vestige of my controlled front.
“Congratulations by the way. You have full judicial backing. Seems last night went better than we could’ve hoped. All was not lost in the end.”
The moment he disappears, Murphy makes to exit the suite, closing the door behind him.
“Ryan.”
I sense his surprise at my use of his first name. We’ve always had a rule in our family— if a person is willing to give their life for yours, they become a part of your family. And as such, they are an equal.
Today, he proved his salt.
“Mr. Sinclair.”
“I need your phone.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your phone, please.”
Ryan Murphy is a couple of years older than me. His ash-blonde hair levels out the age and experience in his dark blue eyes. Like Casper, he served in the military. The two were shipped off to Syria at the same time. I can’t imagine the evils he’s seen, but there are glimpses of them in his vacant stares and fearless drive.
He holds his unlocked iPhone out to me, the ink on his arms just peeking out from under his white shirt.
“Thank you. We’re checking out. Make sure arrangements are made.”
“Where to?”
“Windermere.”
When I was a child, Dad always used to tell me that when I wasn’t invited or allowed to join my peers’ games that I should make my own. Seeing as I can’t join their hunt, it’s time to lead my own.
Dialling Leo’s number, I pour myself another drink. Shorter this time. Backing it all at once, I stack the tumbler on Benedict’s.
The moment Leo picks up, I dive in. “It’s me.”
“What’s this number? You’re lucky I picked up.”
“Ryan’s.” Making my way to the sofas, I sit on one of the mustard velvet armchairs. “Arabella’s using my phone.”
