Page 17 of Resurrection

“There’s Iceland too.” I frown. Did I forget to add it?

“Saw that. Any place with the word ‘ice’ in the name is an automatic no.” He eases deeper into the chair. “I guess I’m staying here.”

I clear my throat and point at the paper. “As you can see, I also outlined Switzerland as the most expensive option.”

“You’re telling me I’m too poor to live here?” Finn’s flinty gaze bores into me.

“Maybe?” I shrug and shift in my seat. “I don’t know what your finances are like. You were vague earlier.”

“I can fucking afford to live in Switzerland if I want.”

“Without having to work? I don’t know if you saw—”

“Yes. I can read. Cuba and Russia are the cheapest options. Russia is the best at bucking extradition requests and for a higher quality of life. Your five hundred graphs and charts are clear.”

“Oh, good.” I sit up straighter, cross my legs, and rock back into my chair. “Privyetto Russia, then?”

“Not a chance. Russians are snakes in the grass. I’m not going there.”

“The Volkovs aren’t even real Russians. That’d be like calling you and Lorcan Irish.”

“We are Irish.”

I laugh and run my hand along my brow. “Staying in Switzerland isn’t a good idea for you.”

“The country is big enough for you to visit this place and for me to live in another city.” Finn slides the paper across the desk. “From what I’ve seen, I’ll enjoy settling here.”

“You’ve seen the inside of my house and the Swiss landscape in the dark. Unless you somehow saw through your eyelids when you were unconscious.”

“You told me to pick. I picked.”

The phone on my desk rings, and I jump.

Finn smirks. “You’re still wound tight. Eric must not have done his job last night.”

My cheeks flame as I lift the phone and hold the receiver to my ear. “Carys Van de Berg.”

“A package got delivered for you at the front of the chalet. What do you want me to do with it?” Jay’s voice lumbers along the internal line.

“Can you tell who it’s from?”

“No address other than yours. Kinda a medium-sized box.”

I glance at Finn who is scanning my face with an intensity I’m not sure I like.

“Don’t open it. I’ll come look.” With the receiver back on the cradle, I rise from behind my desk. “I need to take care of something. Consider Russia or Cuba. Seriously. Switzerland is expensive as a long-term solution.”

He’s frozen in his seat. “Why are you worried about a package delivered to the front of the house?”

“Not worried,” I say. “Just cautious. I called in favors to get you lifted. People can be overeager to cash those.”

His eyes narrow, and he heaves himself out of the chair with a grunt. “I’m coming to see this package.”

“It’s not something you need to worry about.”

As I come around the desk, he slides across the chairs quicker than his injuries should allow. His bulky, broad body partially blocks my hasty exit.

“You thought that was a suggestion.” He clicks his tongue, his ice-cold gaze connecting with mine. “You saved my life, or maybe just my sanity this time. Either way—anyone who comes after you, gets me.”

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