Page 63 of Taming Achilles

“So if someone was a spy, keeping multiple passports in their bags at all times, and a concealed carry, then we can guess that they’re …”

“Deep cover. They probably have a life that can excuse a lot of travel, and absences. Maybe a double life. But I wasn’t one of those. They’re highly specialised people, and they’re as protected as can be,” Callum said. “Why are you asking?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I responded. It was partially true. The conclusion I kept coming to gave me more questions than answers.

“Is Pippa in trouble?”

Well, that was a much easier question to answer, of course. And I wasn’t worried about him asking. He and Pippa had been friends once, too. And the loyalty of a man like Callum MacLachlan wasn’t easily thrown away.

“Aye, she is.”

Chapter 30

Pippa

This was it. The plan was simple. The clock was ticking.

Ajax and Brett had developed a plan and went full steam ahead. I was caught bobbing in their wake, just trying to keep up. I didn’t like this idea. The secrets I had kept hidden for so long from the very people we were going to now, were going to be laid out on the table. I should be relieved. Instead, I was afraid. Because I wasn’t doing it on my own terms.

We were on the 75th floor, looking down over the sprawling grandeur of Los Angeles, waiting for our “guests” to arrive.

There was a certain theatricality about my American allies that I had always enjoyed. They were all about the show - the presentation. It was something we stuffy Brits could probably do with a bit more of.

The two men looked dashing. Brett was in a navy suit with a deep brown belt and shoes that just brought out the whiskey colour of his eyes, and the natural warmth of his brown hair. Ajax was in a steel grey suit that darkened his skin in contrast, and gave him an imposing, authoritarian look that sucked the air out of the room. Coupled with his deep voice, he could make a man being burned alive give up ice water.

I was in lily white. My favourite colour. A sheath dress and heels, with red lips and my hair in a French twist. I had diamond snowflake earrings that completed the imperial ice queen look.

“We are a sexy trio,” Brett said with a smirk, leaning casually back in his seat as he glanced down the long glass conference table, to the mahogany French doors.

“Speaking of trios,” I said, raising a brow. “How is your daughter and her new husband?”

Brett snarled. “That daughter stealer is still breathing. But not for long, I hope.”

“Isn’t he going to be here today?” I asked.

“He sure is.” He shook his head.

“Pardon his temper,” Ajax said, smacking the back of his hand playfully against my bicep. “Being pakhan is really cramping his style. He’s taking it out on his son-in-law.”

Ajax poked at Brett’s new cover as the head of the Russian Bratva. The man was now the head of an organisation he was trying to dismantle, and he hated every second of it.

“Shut the fuck up before I put you back in a coma!” Brett groused.

“See what I mean?” Ajax said with a flick of his thumb to Brett. “I don’t get it, though. He’s making his sister do all the work, but he’s the one acting all pissy.”

“Well,” I joined in the fun. “His sister would make a better pakhan.”

“Don’t I know it,” Brett smiled. It looked like a hint of pride.

I was ready to rib him some more when the doors opened and in strode the four horsemen who comprised the upper tier of Caledonia men.

I swear, there was a strange cinematic quality to all four of them as they entered the room. Like it all happened in slow motion.

Callum, with his auburn hair and beard, strode in at the head of their formation. He was the tip of the spear, unbuttoning his blazer as his large hand pulled out a chair on the other end of the conference table.

His eyes landed on me and stayed there as he leisurely fell into the seat. If he was surprised to see me, he didn’t show it.

To his left was Geordie, his right-hand man. He was a little taller, his hair more brown than red, and clean shaven. That gorgeous jawline was sharp enough to cut glass. The memory of his cheek on my inner thighs made my legs shut together, rubbing my knees to stop the ache I felt each time I saw him.

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