Page 13 of Hell In A Handbasket
How easy it is to start a war.
Or end one.
I put my weapon back together again and look at the clock on the wall. “Get your things packed and in the cars in the next hour. Malones will be here shortly.”
Sighing, Kane turns on his heels and crosses the office. “You better be right about this, Solomon. I’m not interested in messing with the mafia just because it’s convenient.”
“Spence.” I look up at the seven-foot gargantuan and, beside him, the equally large Troy. Aka: Romeo. “I’ve stacked a bunch of supplies in the garage out back. You’re in charge of loading and unloading from the plane. When we land, you transfer them to our next vehicle. You got it?”
They nod and turn. So I look at Preston next. “You’re staying here, but I want remote access and backup. When we arrive, you need to put the blockers in place to minimize outside interference.”
He doesn’t speak. He merely tips his chin and goes back to studying his computer screen. So I look at Jen and Ellie next. “Pack your shit and get ready to fly. Laine and Angelo are keeping the kids, so we’re clear for a few days. Kane!” I cast my eyes along the Checkmate office and wait for him to turn. “Jess?”
“She’s on her way,” he grunts. “She insisted.”
“You better be ready for this circus, Sugar Plum.” Jay steps in my way and drags me closer, broad hands wrapping around my arms until his smile is all I see. His sweet breath that tastes of candy feathering my tongue. Most important of all, his eyes—a deep, dark, almost black—scary to anyone who doesn’t truly know him, are where I find my comfort when everything else spirals out of control. He pulls me to the tips of my toes and presses a kiss to the center of my lips. “I’ll follow you anywhere, any war, any time. But I’m not above sayingI told you soif shit goes bad.”
“Nothing will go bad.” I lean against his broad chest, ignoring the holster and the guns he straps entirely too close and lay my ear over his beating heart. Strong. Steady. Comforting. This is a man who finds unmitigated joy in the simple things in life—rainbows make him happy, delicious gravy never fails to brighten his day, and dancing with his daughters will make even the worst times better.
For those, his pulse will scramble, and his belly will flutter.
But take him into a battle zone, and he doesn’t falter. No nerves. No hesitation. No bullshit.
“Did I tell you today that I love you?” I angle backward and search his eyes. “I know I get busy and forget to say so. But I do. I love the crap out of you.”
He snorts and massages my back with strong hands. “Love you, too. I have a joke before we go. You ready?”
I roll my eyes and fake intolerance. But damn, if my heart doesn’t skip a beat every time Jay Bishop gets a moment to be silly.
“I’m ready.”
“Why is it always so easy to talk to ballet dancers?”
I firm my lips, knowing the answer already. But his pleasure comes with finishing the joke. “I don’t know. Why is it easy to talk to ballet dancers?”
“Because they always get to thepointe,” Ellie cuts in, ruining his punchline and slapping my ass as she strides past. “I already heard that one. Now stop being cute. We’ve gotta prepare for this shit show.”
“She fucked it.” Jay smooshes a noisy kiss to my cheek, holding on for a moment longer and slurping for added effect. “I recall something in our vows about following you anywhere, even if I think your ideas are suicidal and not entirely productive.”
“You’re gonna miss your connection if you don’t finish this shit up.” Cap rounds up his troops, delegating orders and sending men—and women, because we’re all about equality in this office—in every direction to finish their tasks. “Sophia?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.” I step away from my husband, though I keep his hand in mine, and wandering toward Eric DeWhit—Cap—I lower my chin in farewell. “Thanks for staying back and keeping the office chugging along.”
“Thanks for letting me,” he chuckles. “I’m at that age where I don’t really give a shit about missing out on the fun. I’d rather stay home in the peace and quiet. And frankly,” he scratches his stubbled jaw, attempting, but failing, to hide his grin. “This doesn’t sound fun at all. Sounds like a fuckin’ nightmare.”
“It’s gonna be fine.” Gooey moment over, I harden the hell up and straighten my spine. “We’regonna be fine,” I announce. “Follow your orders, load the shit I asked to load, and don’t forget the crates. We’re in the cars just as soon as Troy and Spence are done packing them.”
“We’ll drive you out.” Eric waves for Riley and Preston to follow. “Three cars. We’ll deliver you and bring the vehicles back. When you’re done, you know what to do.”
“Thanks, Cap.” Jay claps his hand to Eric’s shoulder, and when I start toward the back garage, he follows. “It’s gonna be messy, Sugar Plum. But I trust you not to get us killed.”
MINKA
“Iwas happy to stay home with the girls!” Cato isn’t accustomed to flying commercially. The idea of lining up at security, handing his bags over, and risking an internal search alongside the other passengers—the commoners—is an offense the rich boy doesn’t swallow eagerly.
But then again, Fletch isn’t inclined to allow Cato to playhappy familieswith Fifi and Mia while he’s out of town. Especially not after Cato’s loud and enthusiastic plans to take them out to dinner—candles included—and snuggle on the couch afterward with a movie and wine to wind down for the day.
His words.
