Page 39 of Redemption

Carys’s hand rests on my forearm, reading my thoughts. “We haven’t seen each other in a while,” she says.

“Some of these people you’veneverseen.” He tries to use her logic against her. “We’ve got big plans, and you need to understand who’s in charge.” He glares in my direction.

I smirk. “Nah,” I say. “I don’t think so.”

“Gentlemen.” Pierre-Jacques strolls in from one of the side doors. He stops when he sees me and Noel at an obvious standoff. “And ladies.” He scans the seats. “The arrangement wasn’t agreeable?”

“Noel wants to play musical chairs. It’s not really my thing.” I grab the discarded placeholder from the center and toss it in Noel’s direction.

Pierre-Jacques smiles, but there’s a predatory gleam to it. “Ah, yes, he does like his games.” He waves a hand in an extravagant fashion, taking in the whole table. “Mix and match as you like.” He drops into the seat at the head. “I like my guests to be comfortable.”

Noel’s movements are tight with anger, but he retrieves the placard from the floor and places it at the empty spot. Other people file into the room. The last woman wears a deep-green gown that hugs her curves and a V-neck that plunges to her navel. It’s a dress designed to draw attention. As she takes her seat at the other end of the table, her gaze locks with mine. Carys’s fingers tighten on my forearm.

“Quite an entrance,” she mutters under her breath.

I raise her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “She’s got nothing on you.” I mean that, but something about this woman is eerily familiar. Have I met her before? Her shoulder-length hair is chestnut brown, and from here, her eyes appear to be a dark brown as well. Maybe my age or a bit older. No matter what Carys might believe, it’s not possible to disguise the aging process, but I’d never tell her that.

Pierre-Jacques rattles off the names of the people around us, and when he gets to the woman in green, he grins like a Cheshire cat. “The vision at the end of the table is my cougar, Jade.”

Carys, who has been sipping her drink through the introductions, swallows beside me. Good ol’ PJ isn’t going to be winning himself any favors with a comment like that.

“I enjoy my women seasoned. Like you, Carys.” Pierre-Jacques turns his attention from Jade to Carys, tilting his glass in her direction.

Shots have been fucking fired. I reach under the table and squeeze her thigh, prepared to kick his ass if needed. Her age is the one subject we dance around like it doesn’t exist. Forty-six isn’t old, but Carys devotes considerable time to maintaining the gloss of youth.

She gives him a demure smile. “Well, bless your heart for noticing.”

The steel in her words and the common Southern phrase doesn’t go unnoticed by Kimi, who runs a hand across her lips to hide her amusement.

The first course arrives before I have to stage an intervention, and chatter starts up around the table. Nineteen voices talking in various pitches of excitement or boredom. I don’t participate in much of it—only when someone directs a question at me. I’m not here to make friends, and these aren’t the types of people I’d choose to be friendly with anymore.

“You okay?” Carys whispers to me as dessert is served.

“Peachy. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

She frowns and dips her spoon into the mousse. “At least the food is decent.”

“Finn,” Pierre-Jacques says. “Since you don’t have a place to stay, and I’ve heard Kim and Lachlan’s apartment is too tiny, I think you should remain here while your services are needed.”

My brother prepped me for this suggestion, and it makes sense. Pierre-Jacques doesn’t know Lorcan or Kim very well, and for some reason, I’m a valuable commodity. They’ve had a couple chances to prove themselves loyal, and as far as he knows, they’ve been able to keep me in line. “Depends on which side of the building you’re offering me. I’m not much for mold and decay. Neither is Carys.”

He waves me off. “No one lives on the castle side. It’s deserted. A relic. A glimpse of what once was. No, no. We live on the mansion side. You, Carys, and Jay can be accommodated. No problems.”

Carys and I didn’t discuss where we’d be staying while I worked to disassemble the PLA. Lorcan’s advice from last night still rings in my ears. My instinct tells me she’s safest with me.

When I don’t answer, Pierre-Jacques meets my gaze down the table. “In case I wasn’t clear—I insist.”

“Oh, I understood.” I raise my beer. “I tend to be more wild than tame. Pick your battles wisely.”

“So,” Pierre-Jacques says, surveying the attentive faces. “Sounds like we understand each other perfectly. Kim and Lachlan—collect Carys’s and Jay’s things from their hotel. Finn, your room is stocked with clothes. Carys, Jade took the liberty of ordering and having a few items delivered for you since you’ll be here longer than expected.”

Carys pops the last mouthful of mousse in her mouth and peers at me over the top of the glass tumbler. “Longer than I expected…”

I don’t respond but instead tip back the rest of my beer. I figured we’d be here a while, and I should have emphasized the unknown timeline with her when we spoke yesterday. Maybe she wouldn’t be here now. I can’t decide if having her gone would be better or worse. Better for her. Worse for me.

Whatever plan they’re working on must be tough to execute or they wouldn’t need me. That’s not the part of his speech that bothers me. The PLA understands far more about us than we know about them, and they’ve been one step ahead of us the whole time. How do I protect her when I can’t see where the path is leading?

Chapter Eighteen

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