Page 71 of A Very Happy Thanksgiving
“No? Echo says it’s the best one available, and he needs to upgrade his security.”
“Just throw yourself in the trash, girl. Good grief.”
“I got him a card as well.”
“Are you planning to deliver the card in person, wearing nothing but lingerie?”
“I put it in the mail already.”
Jez turned to Dice. “There’s no hope.”
“None,” she agreed.
“Just because you found a man willing to put up with your job doesn’t mean everyone can. Cole’s a fucking unicorn.”
“Marc’s your Cole; don’t you get it?”
“I saw the way he looked at me as I was dispatching hostiles at the stilt house.”
“And I saw the way he looked at you afterward. He’ll cope.”
“You don’t know Marc the way I do. He has a good heart, and shit like that will wear him down.”
“You think Cole doesn’t have a good heart?”
“Okay, he does, but Cole isn’t a global megastar. What if someone spots us together? I can see the headlines now… ‘Marc’s new mystery woman—is he cheating on Serena with a country girl?’”
“They think he’s back with Serena?”
“Apparently. Because Owen didn’t hotfoot it to Indonesia, it means they broke up.”
Never mind that Owen was recovering from ankle surgery after tripping over his dog, or that he’d promised to stay in London to support an anxious Edie. Heath had explained the situation.
“So you’re telling me that despite the two of us managing to finesse our way into a terrorist compound in Afghanistan and masquerade as servants for several days, then eliminate the hostiles, rescue two hostages, and successfully get one of them out of the country, you can’t sneak into Marc’s house for a quick fuck?”
I remembered that week well—it was the first time I’d met Heath in his ghillie suit. We’d handed the British hostage off to his team, and his look of shock when he realised we’d spotted him had been the highlight of the trip. He might have been able to hide from eyes on the ground, but there wasn’t much he could do about his heat signature when our drone was overhead.
And much as I hated to admit it, Jez did have a point.
“What if sneaking around isn’t enough for Marc?”
“What if it is? I get it; you’re scared. Scared that you’ll fall too hard and shatter if it all goes wrong. I’ve been there, remember? If you witches hadn’t interfered, I’d still be single and miserable too.”
“I’m not…” I started, but I couldn’t finish. Jez’s words were a punch to the gut because they were all true. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
I did think about it.
I thought about it as I jumped out of an airplane the next day.
I thought about it as I sparred with Spider in the gym.
I thought about it as I stalked a supposedly untouchable drug dealer through the streets of New York and put a bullet in his head. What do you know? Even his crew of thugs and his army of high-priced lawyers couldn’t save him in the end. His cocky bravado was all an act. He’d died begging.
But I wasn’t a coward. I was a strong, independent bitch.
And I’d damn well face Marc again and see where life took us.
But not at Thanksgiving. If things failed to go as I hoped, I didn’t want to ruin Huck and Kitty’s day, plus I always spent Thanksgiving with my team. No, I’d go quietly to LA next week, let myself into Marc’s mansion, and give him a taste of what he’d be in for if he was determined to give us a try.
