Page 33 of Sweet Little Spies

Aidan stopped right before he reached the door, pointing hisbest friend’s way. “Were you in the same room I was? How the fuck can you saywe’re not broken? She used her safe word.”

“I told you. She was emotional, and it’s all she’s got. Shewanted to send a message, and it’s been received.” Tristan opened the door,allowing Aidan to go first. “I don’t have to be in Canada for a couple of days.We’ll take Carys to The Hideout tomorrow night. The good thing about having acompletely private club is you can open it at any time. I’ve already got amessage out to Gabriel Lodge, and he’s handling the arrangements. He was havinga training meeting with a new class, but he told me he’ll turn it into a watchand discuss session. We didn’t get a wedding, so we’ll have a stress reliefparty.”

What the hell? He blew past Tris, jogging down the stairs.“You honestly believe she’s going to the club and submitting to you tomorrow?”

“I do.” Tristan sounded like the confident asshole he likedto pretend to be. Or maybe it was who he was now. “I think she’ll go becauseit’s her safe place, and she won’t be able to resist. She’ll end up in aprivacy room with both of us. I expect she’ll likely use her safe word then,too. This is going to be a process.”

How could he talk like this? Aidan reached the door leadinginto the bodyguard unit. He thought some of the sales unit was down here, too,but he needed the space of the men Big Tag called the Douche. Yeah, it was whatCarys’s uncle called a group of bodyguards. The group also included women, whoshould be more outraged by the title. “It’s not a process. It’s a relationship.At least it was once.”

“Maybe everyone is right and we need to sit down at theFerguson Clinic,” Tris said with a long huff as he followed Aidan inside.

The clinic had been around as long as Aidan could remember.Founded by therapist Kai Ferguson, it was housed in a building next to the oldfolks’ home…Sanctum. He probably should never make the joke out loud. There wasno need to go to the clinic for throuple’s therapy because they weren’t athrouple anymore.

Except for a moment it had felt so right.

The stairwell door led right into the office portion of thisside of the floor. A bank of cubicles were to his left, the first one belongingto Nate Carter, the newest bodyguard and Aidan’s sister’s boyfriend. Daisy hadtaken one look at the big Aussie and she’d been a goner.

He’d never felt that rush of new love. He’d simply alwayshad it. Carys had always been there, a piece of him he’d never thought he couldlose. He was happy for his sister and Nate, but he had no desire for the kindof crazy new love they had. He wanted Carys.

He wanted Tris. Or rather he wanted the Tris his best friendhad always been. Sometimes he didn’t recognize him now. He’d been okay with thesoldier. Tris had still been recognizable in the soldier. The operative scaredthe shit out of him.

“Somehow I don’t think a handful of therapy sessions aregoing to solve this,” Aidan shot back.

Tristan ignored his opinion. “Nate’s shirt is going to beway too big on you. Landon Vail is closer in size. Or they keep some MT shirtsin the locker room.”

Aidan was about to tell him he could dress himself when hiscell trilled. He wanted to ignore it but what if it was Carys? What if she’dchanged her mind and she needed him? He pulled it out of his pocket and glanceddown at the screen.

The Huisman Foundation.

“Ignore it,” Tristan ordered. “We need to talk about how tohandle her going forward.”

What the hell was the Huisman Foundation doing calling himon a Saturday night? When he was supposed to be dancing with his new bride. Ofcourse it wasn’t like he’d sent them an invite. No one at the institute wouldknow he was getting married. He’d never talked to the man himself.

Had they figured out he didn’t belong and they were callingto tell him it was all a mistake and then this fight was a moot point?

“Aidan.” Tristan somehow made his name an order.

An order he wasn’t taking. He slid his finger across thescreen, expecting to talk to someone in administration, likely about theupcoming conference. “Hello.”

“Dr. O’Donnell.” A warm voice with the hint of an accentcame over the line. “My name is Emmanuel Huisman.”

The room went cold as he realized he might not have anoption of a safe house anymore.

* * * *

Frustration welled in Tristan as Aidan answered his damncell phone.

It was fucking Saturday night. Who would be calling him? Hisfather was upstairs. His mom and sister wouldn’t bother him now, and Caryswasn’t talking to either of them, but apparently this was his punishment. Aidanwould rather talk to some fucking telemarketer than talk to his best friend.

If Aidan thought he was about to leave because he wanted todiscuss his Internet usage and how such and such company could save him a fewbucks, he was underestimating him. He could stand here all night. It wasn’tlike he had anywhere else to go.

“Hello, Dr. Huisman.”

The world seemed to slow down.

Emmanuel Huisman was calling? On what he should think was arandom Saturday night? Calling a man he’d never actually met before?

Tris had his cell out in a second, sending Ian a textletting him know what was happening and to be quiet if he came down.

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