Page 120 of Kings Fear No One
“But,” she goes on, “I think Mace wants me to learn how to shoot. He heard about how Logan’s teaching you. Maybe the next lady’s night we have, you can show us what you’ve learned.”
I can only laugh in response. I’m in no position to show off my firearm skills, but I take it as a compliment anyway.
Come evening, we end our time at the spa and move on to wine tasting. Half of the ladies are already tipsy from sipping on mimosas, belinis, and champagne throughout the day. I’ve barely had a drop. I’m used to whiskey the few times I have drank. Always with Logan in our apartment.
…except for the time at Zapote with the two men from the Barreras and the times with the Chosen Saints, which I don’t count.
My first taste of wine disagrees with my stomach. It churns mere seconds after I’ve tasted some cabernet.
Hope gives me a sympathetic frown. “I’m not much of a cabernet fan either. It tastes like medicine to me. Try some pinot.”
I know before even taking a sip the pinot noir won’t be any better. From the moment it slides down my throat, my belly quakes. My hand claps over my mouth.
Korine notices as she’s in the middle of sampling wine with some of the other ladies. She breaks away to check on me, concern etched on her face.
“I’m fine… really…” I mumble. “I’m just…”
“Nauseous?” Hope supplies. Then she glances at Korine.
“We should probably go. You should lie down.”
“I don’t want to ruin Sydney’s party.”
“Girl, stop it,” Sydney says, moving closer. She’s taken notice the way the others have. She sets down the wine glass she was sipping from. “You’re more important than some wine-tasting event. We can go wine tasting any time. Time to go.”
Any protests fall on deaf ears. The women pile into the cars we’ve driven over in. I’m in the backseat, my brow pressed into the glass window of the rear passenger seat. The constant motion of the ride does nothing to settle my stomach.
I distract myself by texting Logan. Unlike a few hours ago, he doesn’t respond right away.
The bachelor party probably has him distracted.
We pull up outside the apartment I share with him. Korine parks against the curb. The ladies insist on helping me up to the second floor despite more of my protests. As we approach, we gradually slow down, then stop altogether.
The front door hangs open.
Someone has been here… and they wanted us to know they have.
28
LOGAN
FBI agents Zoe Strauss and Eduardo Rodriguez requested any information we had on the Chosen Saints. We met their request with hostile silence. We exchanged looks, communicating without words, then gave them an answer they wouldn’t like.
“We don’t talk to feds,” Mace said.
Tepid humor flickered in Strauss’s hazel eyes. “I expected that answer. However, I’m afraid if you decline to provide us the information now, we’ll simply find workarounds to make you later. Cooperate with our investigation or be prepared to face the consequences.”
“Is that a threat?” Mace snapped.
“Take it however you would like to take it, Mr. Cutler.”
Mace’s top lip curled. “You know my name.”
“I believe in doing research before walking into hostile environments.”
“Then you should know you’ll never get anywhere here, so no use in asking.”
“That brings us back to the workarounds we’re prepared to utilize.”
