Page 61 of Prodigal Son

Phil’s face bore a smoothness Albie knew well: he was trying hard not to smile.

“I went because I can come at this from a different angle. One they’ll never expect. If you insist on sending your hairy bloody bodyguards along with me, it will become glaringly obvious that I’m working hand-in-hand with the most notorious biker gang in the world, and no one will tell me anything useful.”

Albie cleared his throat. “Club.”

Raven whirled on him. “What?”

“You said ‘gang.’ It’s a biker club, love.”

“Ugh.” She turned back to Phillip. “Are you even listening to yourself? Does stealth matter to you at all?”

Phil grew serious again, frowning. “Yourlifematters to me, Raven. “Right now, we’re trying to accomplish two things while we give Fox time to find the rest of Project Emerald: gather some intel, and provide a distraction. I also want all of us to stay very much alive and unharmed.”

“That’s three things.”

“Fine. Three things. I appreciate your help, and the unique opportunity your line of work offers us. That’s a boon I didn’t expect. But I won’t let you throw yourself into a dangerous situation without protection.”

“Perhaps,” a crisp, feminine voice said from the doorway, “she needs a different kind of security.”

Eden’s mother, Vivian, stood in the threshold, in a cream suit so stiff and fitted it looked carved from marble, her makeup, and hair, and nude pumps all flawless. She carried a slim little matte pistol in one manicured hand.

Albie sat up straighter in his chair and let a hand drop casually to his hip, and the 9mm in his waistband.

He didn’t think anyone breathed as Vivian strode into the room, right up to the desk, and set the gun on its surface. A Browning, he saw now, and she handled it like she was comfortable with its weight, and its capability.

“Beg pardon?” Phillip said.

“You’re sending the girls into a meeting, yes? One where they need protection? I do this sort of thing for a living.”

“I thought you and Eden were PIs?” Albie said.

She huffed a short, sharp sigh. “My daughter and I both worked for British Intelligence before we started our investigation firm. Do you think we don’t know anything about proper security and personal protection? I can assure you, Mr. Calloway, I’m a far better shot than any of your biker boys. And unlike them, I would actually look appropriate at Raven’s side.”

Raven put her hand over her mouth, but not quick enough to hide her delighted smile.

“Send some of your men, if you wish,” Vivian said, “and have them set up a perimeter and be ready to move in if necessary. Surround the building, and put eyes on all entrances and exits to the parking garage. If we break contact, then they stage a full-on assault of the place. But theymustn’tbe seen, or else you’ll tip your hand to these people, and they’ll tell us nothing of any use.”

Phil studied her a long moment, considering. “This is my baby sister we’re talking about.”

“Who isn’t a baby, and who’s standing right here,” Raven said.

Vivian’s expression softened the tiniest amount. “Yes, I understand. This would be my suggestion no matter who she was.”

Phillip looked over, and Albie could only shrug. “I can have a crew ready to leave in ten minutes.”

“No colors,” Phil said, and Albie nodded, rising from his chair. To Vivian: “If anything happens–”

“You’ll have my head, certainly. I should warn you, though, Calloway – the same goes for my daughter, who’s currently with your brother.”

Phil sighed. “Well. You’ve got me there, I suppose.”

~*~

“The building doesn’t have metal detectors, we’ve already checked,” Albie said, and held up a compact little Smith & Wesson 9mm. “Do you know how to use this?”

Axelle arched one unimpressed brow. “I’m from Tennessee. What do you think?”

He handed the gun over. “Don’t use it unless you absolutely have to.”

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