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“I’m sorry,” Vince told Champ in a rough voice. “I didn’t know what he meant to you.”
As though that could be an excuse for hurting someone.
“I don’t forgive you,” Champ growled back. “And I never will.”
The tension between the two of them wasn’t the only tension in the room.
Riggs carried a massive grudge against Buck Nutter for disappearing after they’d saved him in Venezuela, which came to a head after Buck made the mistake of asking Riggs about “that cute doc fella you were so chummy with.”
The looks Riggs shot him across the table made the entire room feel like it might implode at any minute.
“Don’t talk about him. Don’t even think about him. Had you come to us for help, we could have avoided all this shit,” Riggs said, eyes flashing. “Heck, if you hadn’t gone around trying to sell your… your seed—” He darted a look at Champ, whose jaw tightened at the pun. “You wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped, and we wouldn’t have gotten involved.”
Buck finally threw up his hands. “That’s bull puckey, and you know it. Your mission’s always been to save your client, and your client’s been profiting off these transactions for the better part of a year. Oh, poor Jacob Horn wants to avoid a public relations scandal. Wah wah wah. Maybe he shouldn’ta promised me we’d be partners, then cut me outta the game while takin’ nary a step to prevent his ass from hangin’ in the wind. Meanwhile, here’s me, put right in the dragon’s mouth when I’m the one who single-handedly developed the danged game in the first place.”
I glanced at him, wondering if I should let that falsehood stand. “Single-handedly? Huh. That’s not entirely accurate, is it?”
Buck’s face flushed as he glared at me. “You don’t know jack.”
“No, but I do know Darlene Louderbach. She and I go way back. Back to the days of Frogs and Guardians, in fact.”
The blood drained from Buck’s face. “You keep your damned mouth shut.”
I shrugged. The bloom was a little off the rose now that I could see Buck’s true cowardice in this situation. “Know what would go a far distance toward keeping my mouth shut? A matching set of limited-edition Candy Cane Horns for me and my… Huxley,” I concluded with only a minor stutter.
Hux snorted and sputtered, just having taken a sip from his water bottle. Champ grinned outright, and Riggs flashed me an air fist bump.
Laurel ended a call and dropped her cell on the table with a clatter. “As soon as we have actionable information from Linus’s Horn, I’ve got a local federal judge ready to sign a warrant. But,” she warned me, “you’ll have to keep him there until we can get the right paperwork to justify the arrest.”
I let out a shaky breath and nodded. “I’ll do my best.” And hope I don’t have to actually sleep with the guy.
When the planning was finally done, Champ refused to let Buck or Vince leave the suite. While Laurel returned to her own room to confer with her support team before returning in the morning to run op support from the suite with the rest of the incoming Champion Security team, the rest of us tried to get some sleep.
This was easier said than done.
Hux and I were forced to share our room with Vince, who bunked in a nest of blankets on the floor but at least remained quiet. Meanwhile, Champ and Riggs had to share their bedroom with Buck, who talked incessantly—and loud enough to wake the dead—until dawn.
If I hadn’t spent the night in Hux’s tight hold, I might have fractured from the stress during those sleepless hours I spent watching the outside lights spill across the ceiling. Usually planning helped put me at ease, but after learning more about Linus Dixon, I was well and truly terrified. Adam had never existed, and the man I’d thought I’d known was actually a cold-blooded murderer and the right-hand man of one of the most dangerous drug lords in South America.
I tried not to think about what the morning would bring but what would happen after that. Hux and me, together for good. Rodrigo having the run of the mansion. Our family safe at last.
I knew there were awkward conversations to come—like, would Hux want to move in with me? Would I be willing to share my lair for the long haul? Was I gonna let him ride my motorcycles? Would he continue to raid my jam cellar with impunity whenever I pissed him off?—but I was no stranger to awkward. And while I thought the answers would be yes, probably, maybe, and unfortunately, I was willing to give him a say in the matters.
As long as we were together, the rest would sort itself out.
The next morning, I put on my game face and made my way to the conference center for the information session. Late the night before, I’d messaged Adam on my Horn to tell him I was feeling much better and hoped we could sit together at the session.
