AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Didn’t take you for a nervous eater.”
Her remark had me shrugging. “I’m not nervous.”
“I am,” was her flat response.
“Why?”
“Everything’s changing. I can feel it.”
“Changing for the worst?”
“I’ve burned bridges. I didn’t intend on doing that. You don’t make enemies of the Four Horsemen.”
“Do they usually treat their enemies to afternoon tea at Harrods? Because I can guarantee Da’s enemies wish they’d gotten the star treatment like this.”
Her lips curved. “True. It’s not exactly torture, is it?”
“No. So, what’s the problem?”
“Change is… hard to cope with for someone like me.”
“A control freak?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
I placed my hand on her shoulder. “You’re not alone now, though.”
“No,” she whispered, gaze clashing with mine.
“Your enemies are mine and vice versa.”
“Yes.”
“So, what’s the problem?” I repeated.
She swallowed, nodded more to herself than to me, then reached for a sandwich. “No problem.”
25
STAR
There was a surprise waiting for us on the jet that would take us back to the US—my grandfather had perched himself on one of the bucket seats, a paper in his hands, one of several he had discarded on the table beside him.
“You have the subtlety of a jackhammer, Star, but in some instances, it’s to our benefit,” was his greeting. He didn’t even look up from the article he was reading.
“The nation is distracted,” I agreed.
“Which is why I said it’s to our benefit, but it won’t last forever. Three important men have gone missing within the space of a month,” he pointed out.
“Isn’t that what you’re for? To deal with any repercussions?”
He sniffed. “It’s fortunate for you that I have the power I do.”
Though I squinted at him, I only asked, “Is that supposed to be an olive branch?”
“I didn’t know we were in need of one. Interpol is awaiting the influx of your files and they have already commenced their investigation now that they have the means of accessing the Sparrows’ communication app via DeLaCroix's account. Is that not enough of an olive branch?” The paper crunched as he peered at us over it. “Conor,” he greeted, his tone more cordial than it had been with me.
“Anton.” Conor seated himself with a weary sigh as he sank into the bucket seat.
