Page 11 of Exposing Adonis

“What did you give him?” I turned my question to my woman, who stood remorseless and cold, glaring with daggers in her eyes. She would cut me down right where I stood if she could.

Then her face changed, melting into a look of total indifference. In a lot of ways, that was more dangerous than her wrath.

“It’s just a mild sedative.” Her shoulder came up in a nonchalant shrug and a cruel smile. Mild might be the understatement of a lifetime. But her casualness didn’t lessen the acid in her eyes.

Leo looked at me apologetically, as if this wasn’t the first time his sister had roofied someone. I shook my head, realizing that this was probably a tactic she had used a few times before. I’d have to watch my drinks from now on.

Leo grabbed his sister by the elbow and said something in Filipino. A reprimand. She pulled her elbow out of his grasp and looked back at the two groggy men and her nose wrinkled in a repressed snarl.

“I found them uncooperative.” Sarcasm leaked from her voice. She wasn’t going to apologize. I wouldn’t want her to. I felt bad for Alastair and Geordie, sure, but my woman would stop at nothing to protect her family. That was damn sexy. Exactly the kind of woman I wanted to bear my children.

“We wouldn’t tell her where you were,” Alastair’s head tipped to one side, but an amused smile played on his lips. “She realized that you hadn’t brought her brother back and might be doing something … untoward.” Hetsked,as if scolding her. “She’s not very trusting, is she?”

“Not at all,” I grunted as I helped Geordie to his feet.

“She’s up tae high doh,” said Geordie, rubbing his head, his brogue so thick that I knew I’d be the only one who understood it.

“Come again?” Hugo asked, looking at Geordie in irritation.

“He says she seems quite frustrated,” I translated for the group. “Not very trusting indeed.”

“You didn’t trust me either.” Her retort cut me deep. What had she said to me?You should have taken my word for it … ?

Maybe I should have. But I hadn’t made it this far letting just anyone operate on my team. I couldn’t let Chloe’s life be in the hands of justanystranger. It was more than my life at stake.

I had done the right thing. I was sure of it.

“Where were you hiding the sedative?” Alastair asked, looking at Lea with an admiration that I greatly disliked. “I’m assuming you didn’t get it through customs when you got to Scotland … ”

“In the metallic stitching of my bag’s straps. It obscures things in the Baggage scanner.” She crossed her arms, looking at the men.

“Thank you for being candid,” Alastair said, with a nod of appreciation.

“Of course,” she shrugged. “It’s not likely to work a second time.”

“Still,” Alastair said, taking his mug and dumping its contents in the nearest trash bin. “I’ll be guarding my drinks from you from now on like a sorority damsel at a frat party.”

Lea smiled at him, and the two shared a moment. It was brief. A connection of humor. I wanted to yank her away from him, and punch Alastair in the throat.

My hands itched. She was so far away. If I reached out to her, she might disappear like smoke, but it didn’t stop every cell of my body from wanting to yank her to me.

“How’d he do?” Alastair nodded to Leo, his single-minded brain kicking in.

“Passed with flying colors,” I said with a tease. “He did better than you…”

I slapped his shoulder. When I had run Alastair through a similar test, he had played stupid the entire time, then sang “Ireland’s Call” when I had a pistol pointed at his forehead.

When faced with their own execution, people did the absolute strangest things.

Alastair sang the rugby anthem that united all parts of Ireland - including those still loyal to the crown. Hugo recited a passage from theCount of Monte Cristo. Geordie and I, as the original founders of Caledonia Security, had not had to go through this interrogation, but done the real thing in Fort Bragg, North Carolina at the US military’s Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape school (SERE).

“Whatever you thought of,” a green beret Command Sergeant Major by the name of Liam “Balls” McClanahan had said, with his particular brand of paternalistic mentorship, “… is your reason for living.”

I hadn’t thought of anything. My mind blanked and I just … stood still, circled the wagons and made myself as small as I could.

I, like my colleagues, had fallen into the realism of the exercise. Hunger, pain, sleep deprivation all made the illusion of being prisoners of war feel so real. When I thought I was going to die, I simply closed my eyes and sighed. Giving in to the nothingness without a fight.

Geordie didn’t tell me what his reason was. He just said it was some bird, but it didn’t matter.

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