Page 41 of Inside the Maelstrom: Part One
Whatever. Down it went too.
“Feel better?”
I shook my head. “No. I feel like a high-priced hooker.”
The bartender raised an eyebrow until Evan gave him a pointed look. The man moved away to wipe down the bar at the other end. “So what?”
“Pardon?”
“So what if they’re dropping cash? Do you not want them too? Are they pressuring you for sex? If that’s the case, I’ll put you on a plane home myself right now.”
I shook my head. “That’s not it. I do want them. All of them. But…” I looked up into his eyes. “Don’t you think it's kind of wrong? Morally, I mean?”
Evan’s lips twisted. “If you’re worried about morality, you picked the wrong group of people to go on this trip with.” He shook his head, but he was amused more than disdainful of his charge’s apparent lack of morals. “Look, I get it. Their flashy shows of wealth make you feel like shit. Like you aren’t worth the four hundred thousand pounds that Sampson just sunk on your bookstore.”
Holy shit, I hoped that scotch tasted as good coming back up because I was going to throw up. “How much?”
“It's a business in the heart of London. How much did you think a bookstore would cost?”
Oh, shit. My heart was thundering in my ears. “Why?”
Evan shrugged. “He likes you. I’ve been guarding that little fuck since he was fifteen, and he doesn’t like anyone. That amount of money is nothing to a man like Sampson. And he’s just bought a prime piece of London real estate, so don’t let it stress you, kid. They aren’t getting swindled in this deal. They are like vampires, sucking the innocence from you one experience at a time. You shouldn’t feel bad about that; it’s a fair trade.”
I frowned. “You sound like you hate them.”
Evan shook his head. “No. I’m fond as hell of them. All of them. But the world they live in? It isn’t meant for the sweet and the innocent. It isn’t meant for nice boys with good hearts. Even Otto isn’t the boy he once was.” He tapped the bar, and the bartender poured another two glasses of scotch.
This time, Evan pushed one at me and gripped the other. “When Sampson was fifteen, one of his grandfather’s competitors had him abducted while he waited for his driver outside of school. They held him for twelve days while his grandfather negotiated his release. In the end, the kidnappers kept raising the price higher and higher because they knew that his grandfather would give anything to get his heir back. I was part of the private task force sent in to rescue him. Kid was so dehydrated I thought he’d die in my arms. He looked at me and begged me not to leave him down in the dark. What kind of world tortures a fucking kid like that for business contracts?”
Fuck. Poor Sampson.
“After that, I was hired as Sampson’s permanent bodyguard. I was there when his grandfather passed away, and he was shipped to the East Coast. Not once did his father ask his son if he was okay, or suggest therapy. He did nothing to show that he cared about Sampson in any way.” Evan sighed. “What I’m trying to say is that money is not a rare commodity to people like Hendrick Kenley and Sampson Rubio. Love is. Friendship. Human connection that doesn’t come with strings.”
I sipped the scotch. “But it does come with strings,” I whispered.
“Does it?”
I was so fucking confused. Evan tapped my glass with his finger. “Relax, Aviva. I’ll message the guys and tell them we’ll meet them back at the hotel soon. Take a moment to breathe.” He looked over my shoulder and grinned. It lit up his face, making his eyes sparkle and a dimple form in one cheek. “Do you play pool?”
I’d been right. He was really something when he smiled.
Chapter22
Otto
Evan and Aviva returned to the hotel six hours after Aviva had stormed out of the car. No one had breathed until Evan called to say she was okay, that they were just going to take a moment and he’d make sure she was safe. That we should do what we needed to do at the Iron Nautilus and they’d meet us back at the hotel.
We’d gone to the bookstore, met with the owner and scoured every single Verne book until we found the one. I almost wished we could throw it out and go home. We were causing harm to Aviva, even if we were doing it with good intentions. Fucking road to Hell and all that. But Hendrick wouldn’t let me toss it, taking it off me and holding it close, like Aviva did to that damn copy ofTwenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.
He’d been sitting out on the balcony, silent, for the last three hours. Sampson had paced up and down the hall of our suite, and I’d just sat here. Waiting uselessly.
When Evan finally knocked on the door, Sampson sprinted to open it. Evan stepped into the room, holding a drunk as fuck Aviva. She was singing Beatles songs under her breath, and smiling up at Evan like he was her hero or something..
“Evan, I can walk,” she mumbled, and he shook his head.
“I told you to stop after that third Flaming Sambuca, Chaos,” he teased. I’d never heard Evan tease anyone. Not even Sampson, who he’d known for nearly a decade. Sam frowned, and held out his arms. Evan locked eyes with him, but handed over Aviva. She looked truly tiny in his arms. “I swear, she only had like six drinks. She’s small, and a bit of a lightweight.”
I shook my head. “It's the meds.” She’d missed her meds tonight, and I didn’t know if she should take them on a belly filled with booze.
