Page 44 of Born To Be Bad

Henderson shakes his head.

“Reacher and Bijou?” I ask.

Again, he shakes his head. “Reacher and Bijou are fine. Ariana is safe. Don’t panic.”

“Don’t panic about what?” asks Alistair.

Henderson rubs his eyelid with his middle finger. “The manor. Your folks.”

He had our attention before, but now we’re hanging on his every word.

“No one hurt. Drone attack.”

“Drone attack?” repeats Alistair, as if he doesn’t understand the meaning. As if “manor” and “drone attack” make no sense together.

“Three explosions. The worst took out the entire west wing.”

I try to remember which part of the huge family home pointed west, but my thoughts are muddled. Anxiety does that to me. It short-circuits my brain. All I see in my mind’s eye is the intimidating Ravenscroft dining room and the Yorkshire puddings. I specifically do not think of Alistair’s old room and what we did in there.

“Your father’s unharmed but distraught,” he continues. “It took out his entire vinyl collection.”

That must have been on purpose. Isobel took out Elena’s presumably much more valuable Fabergé collection. Baby Alex moves and whimpers.

I open the jacket again. “Hello there,” I say, smiling at him.

His eyes are wide open, and he regards me uncertainly.

“We’re going on a little vacation. You’re going to love it.”

His bottom lip starts trembling. He’s definitely going to cry. My immediate instinct is to hand him over to Brumilde, but I take a breath and pop his pacifier back into his mouth.

“Milk?” I mouth to Brumilde.

She nods and grabs the baby bag from the limo, taking warm formula out from an insulated bottle holder and giving it a shake. I thank her and start feeding Alex, who looks at me with adoring eyes as soon as he realizes that I am his new source of food.

Good boy, I tell him telepathically. Things are rough, but we’ll get through it. He blinks as if he understands.

CHAPTER 25

An Interesting Honeymoon

ALISTAIR

I’m amazed at how well Ivy is dealing with the violence she has just witnessed. I know she’s tough despite what her appearance would lead one to believe. I admire grace under pressure. It’s just another reason to love her. Perhaps I’m looking for the silver lining in this chaotic and dangerous time. Seeing that Kalashnikov pointed our way when Ivy, Alex, and Brumilde were in the car almost made me panic. I’m not too worried about taking a bullet, but if anything ever happens to my new little family… well, I’d rather not think about it. The most important thing is to keep everyone safe until we establish a way forward. It’s difficult not to obsess over the recent developments. The idea of drones bombing the manor—when my parents were home—is enough to make me go postal. Losing a bright and fiercely loyal intelligence agent in Blackwood is devastating. Mikhail Kuznetsov’s violence has been shattering and ruinous, and I’ll never forgive the man for murdering Mariya Ivanov, the mother of that precious boy in Brumilde’s arms.

The Mirror Bratva started this war, but I am going to end it.

I refuse to live in fear of a menace of a family who live over a thousand miles away from us. I will do anything and everything it takes to end them. My muscles are tense, my jaw aches from being clenched. I am no good like this. No superior strategy comes from a place of fear. I need to relax in order to think clearly and plan our next move. I sigh out a deep breath and make a conscious decision to push every anxious thought of our treacherous situation out of my mind. A clear head is required, but that is easier said than done. I close my eyes and take a few breaths to ground my flitting fearful thoughts.

When I open my eyes again, I realize what I need, and who I need it from.

Ivy’s taken her shoes off and is prancing around the Gulfstream cabin like the lovely hippie she is, offering drinks and snacks and bobbing her head to a tune no one else can hear. When she’s done, she flops down into the seat opposite me and grins. Utterly delicious, as always.

She hands me a flute of chilled champagne. It’s all the encouragement I need to snap my laptop shut. There is a small growl in the back of my throat. “Look at you, playing sexy airplane stewardess.”

“This isn’t the fifties, Alistair,” she replies. “We’re called cabin crew now.”

“Yawn. I’ll take an air hostess over cabin crew any day.”

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