Page 8 of Unleash Hades
“I’m okay,” Rose said, picking up a fork and pushing her food around.
“You look tired.” Brett turned his eyes to his son- in-law. “Have you been letting her sleep?”
Alastair opened his mouth, but his wife stepped in before he could.
“He can’t breastfeed the babies,” Rose said, her shoulders slumping. “And they won’t take the bottle if I’m around.”
“They had no problem taking the bottle with theirdedushka!”Brett used the Russian word for grandfather. “What’s your excuse?”
He turned again to the father of his grandchildren.
“I thought the war was going on. Is it over?” Rose tilted her head, interrupting the brewing fight. “Can I come home, now?”
Alastair’s back straightened. The idea of moving back to the States was the last thing he wanted.
“No, kiddo,” Brett said, sadly. “Not yet. But soon. I just want you and the babies far, far away from everything until it’s resolved.”
The Mafia wars and criminal enterprises were wreaking havoc on the American underground, and Brett was the orchestrator of it all. The insane puppet master.
Rose’s shoulders fell further. Alastair clenched his fist.
“We’re fine, here,” Alastair declared, reaching for Rose’s hand. He squeezed her fingers in his palm but didn’t have the wherewithal to realize that she was limply accepting his touch. Never returning it.
“Just say the word, Juju.” Brett used his nickname for his daughter - a nickname that didn’t really make sense now that I thought about it. “And I’ll have the lawyers draft a divorce, and you’ll own 25% of this company–”
“Hey!” Alastair was ready to jump up and murder Brett.
Sometimes, I wished they’d come to blows once and for all. Just one last blowout fight so they could finally figure out which of them was a better protector for Rose - not that she needed one. Shew as the woman with golden fists, now relegated to being a milk sack for two whining, mewling, little aliens.
No wonder she was unhappy.
“Could we possibly discuss what we came here to talk about, or is this pissing contest going to go on for much longer?” Philippa let out a loud, theatrical yawn. “I’ll start,” she said, stretching her arms up and to the side as if she was exhausted. She wasn’t. She was just trying to get the conversation back under her control. “I’m building a case against a certain man, and I need your help.”
Shit. Philippa, the head of a black wing of MI6 was now staring atme.
I shrugged, as if to say‘why should I care?’
“He’s a mutual acquaintance of ours.”
Another shrug.
“A mutual enemy.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Putain,” I said, rubbing the spot between my brows as I felt a headache begin to form. “You told her, didn’t you?”
My eyes pinged from Alastair to Rose, then back again.
“Well… not as such,” Rose pursed her lips. “I may have told Dad.”
“It’s not her fault,” Philippa said. “But back to theactualmatter at hand, I need to get someone into the Underground Circuit. I naturally thought to ask Rose…”
“Which I forbid,” Brett said, side eyeing the she-spy.
“But since she’d just had the children, and is still breastfeeding, and…”
“Good God,” I stuck out my tongue and gagged. Breastfeeding. Diapers. Spit. Snot.
