Page 10 of Royal Agenda

“The water in that picture. That color.”

Aaron’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “That’s . . . oddly specific.”

“The Portuguese crown jewels feature a stone the same shade of blue and just as sparkling, but I thought you would be more familiar with the local news stories.” He finished evening out Aaron’s sideburns and then moved on to shape the hair at the back of his neck.

Aaron clicked his tongue as if he could not quite believe the situation. “I’m sending a text to Mack.” His phone beeped a second later. “He’ll be here soon. Sean is at the dive site.”

Ryker hummed. He knew where Sean was and that the rest of their team was out of town for the foreseeable future. None of them did anything without letting the others know. On the outside, they appeared to be a close group of guy friends who ate copious amounts of pizza and enjoyed diving excursions. Sean even had a grandfather in The Palms—Don. Now there was a man who could grow a solid head of hair. Their weekly family dinners added to the “pretend everything is normal” aspect of the operation.

Liam and Malcolm, or “Mack,” as the team called him stood out with their red hair and big muscles. Mack was the serious older brother from Scotland, and Liam was the American charmer who had a way with animals. “Perhaps I can get Liam into my chair, sí? The man needs a haircut more than I need a decent cannoli.”

The door flew open with a bang, and Aaron was out of the chair and standing half-in front of Ryker before Rosa, Polly, and Nancy entered the room. Still wearing the cape, Aaron did not appear menacing, though Ryker heard him unsheathe the large knife at his belt. Ryker approached the counter where a Smith and Wesson 340 PD was velcro to the underbelly.

“How many men do you know with enough hair to warrant a trip to the barber shop?” asked Polly. She had a calming way about her and moved with grace. “I’m sure Ryker can fit you into his schedule,” she worked to convince someone who stood just far enough outside the door that Ryker could not see her face.

“This place is practically a graveyard,” said Nancy as she paused to look around.

“Nancy! Don’t talk about graveyards,” replied Rosa. Rosa was hard to miss with her lively personality. Her husband had thinning, salt-and-pepper hair, and a thick mustache. “It’s bad luck.” She kissed the rosary necklace she wore and then tucked it back into her shirt as her focus landed on Aaron. “Hola, Aaron. Are you done? Your hair looks very nice. Cocoa will approve.” She pumped her eyebrows and guided him away from the dark leather chair.

He covertly resheathed his knife.

“Excuse me—we’re going to need this.” Rosa whipped the cape off of him like a matador taunting a bull.

“Come on.” Nancy, businesswoman extraordinaire, pulled on a long, nicely shaped, tan arm. “It’s not my fault the salon can’t find your appointment. This is the next best thing.”

“I can take them out on my own. They’re braided in,” came the reply. The voice echoed against the wall and came to him, sounding like someone speaking through a tin can.

Nancy tugged again—more insistently and with a stomp of her foot. “Don’t be rude. Ryker needs the clientele.”

Ryker blustered. He certainly was not disperato.

“Get tae,” called Mack in the hallway behind the dam of people. That was Mack’s way of saying get out of the way. He’d moved to the States to be with his dad when he was a kid but had not lost his Scottish brogue. The reluctant patron yipped. Nancy dropped the arm and her jaw and quick-stepped backward into the salon.

“Whoa!” The reluctant patron breathed. “I’d ask you to put me down, but I’m not hating this moment.”

Aaron snickered and exchanged a look with Ryker. Mack was not the most patient man on the planet. If someone was in his way and did not move–he moved them. Apparently, the female roadblock had been picked up by their massive friend.

Two very serious Scots crowded into the shop. Mack walked backward, holding someone in his arms in order to maneuver through the doorway. Long, beautiful legs curled around his forearm. Behind him was Liam, and behind Liam came Sweetie and then Bear.

Liam shut and locked the door. He folded his arms and took up the sentry. Sweetie and Bear circled Liam like Tweety birds with hearts over their heads; Bear practically skipping around him, while Sweetie swished side to side, her tail whacking the wall, then Mack’s leg, then Rosa’s as she went.

“Well, aren’t you two helpful.” Polly smiled at Mack as if he’d done a great deed, not at all ruffled by the men’s appearance and gruffness nor the fact that he bodily carried one of them into the shop. In fact, she looked thrilled with the development.

Rosa fanned herself. “Tan guapo.” she said as she fanned her face. Her eyes darted to Mack’s bicep and stayed there.

“Tienes razón,” I agree, said the woman in Mack’s arms. He dropped her to her feet as if she were a cactus. Holding his arms in the air like a man trying to prove his innocence, he moved to stand next to Ryker.

Ryker dropped his scissors at the sight of his possible assassin in his sanctuary. “That is her,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth, forgetting protocol and training. His heart, once again, pounded as if it wanted to bounce from his chest, land at her feet and beg her to take it home.

Mack turned on the woman he’d carried in here as easily as he carried a watermelon, his face going dark.

“Goodness!” Rosa crossed herself. “It’s not a sin for a woman to be in a barbershop, is it?”

“According to Walt, it is,” mumbled Nancy, looking less intimidated by Mack than she should be. Of course, she was friends with Don which could explain her boldness.

“He looks like he wants to grind my bones and put them in a stew,” Rosa whispered loudly to Polly as she pointed at Mack, then grinned a saucy grin. “I might let him.”

Polly snapped a picture of Mack and then turned around and did the same with Liam. “Smile.”

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