Page 101 of Talk to Me
In fact, the only person likely missing me at all was my tailor. Food for thought, I supposed. The sound of a bedroom door closing quietly had me pivoting. I’d gotten up early, done my stretches and pushups in my room and come out to see about food.
While our rooms were located near the back of the house, we’d given Patch the largest room that was literally on the other side of the wall from the living room. The ensuite gave her privacy and it wasn’t that many steps from her work area to her bedroom.
Was she up this early? If she was, I’d make her espresso. I didn’t touch the machine before she woke up cause the grinder was noisy.
Instead of Patch coming down the short hall from her room it was McQuade, carrying his boots in one hand and his shirt in the other. His jeans weren’t even done up. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed based on the disheveled hair alone.
He paused mid-step when his gaze hit mine. It was just after six in the morning and he’d just let himself out of her bedroom. Her bedroom. My teeth clicked as I snapped my mouth closed before the first comment escaped.
“You’re up,” McQuade said and I raised my eyebrows.
“Obviously.” The uneasy feeling in my gut expanded. His interest in our operator hadn’t been lost on me. Remington was equally taken with her. I thought, however, we’d all been on the same page about bedding her. She needed time to heal and to recover.
McQuade tilted his head from one side to the other, the pop of sound seemed to offer him some relief. It only served to amp up my own tension. He took another couple of steps toward me.
I tracked his every move. There were any number of items around us that could be turned into weapons. Not the least of which was the metal carafe we brewed coffee in. Apply enough force and it might even dent his stubborn skull.
If I did strike, I’d need to do it swiftly and with minimal awareness on his part. Largely because I wouldn’t lie to myself. He was an extremely dangerous man. Reprisal would hurt.
Didn’t mean I wouldn’t do it, I just needed to weigh how badly I needed to strike him and whether I could wait to extract my pound of flesh later.
“Spit it out,” McQuade said as he finally reached the border between kitchen and living room. We were on opposite sides of the breakfast bar. Arguably, we were on many other opposite sides than I’d earlier believed.
I eyed him as he set his boots down and then tugged his shirt on over his head. Saying anything wouldn’t be prudent. We needed a certain amount of peace for this alliance to continue. Patch needed our alliance.
At the rate she was going with her research, we would all be splitting up sooner rather than later. Then McQuade and Remington would be gone and I could find a way to insert myself back into her life.
She would need additional security for a while. Who better than a thief to make sure hers was impregnable?
The standoff stretched into the most uncomfortable of silences. He wasn’t going to give an inch, in fact, he seemed to be practically daring me to say something.
“She needs her rest.” Not my best material, yet wholly accurate.
“She does. That’s why I made sure she got it,” he countered. There was just the faintest of smirks on his face.
Cocky asshole. “She also needs patience and to not have anyone making demands on her. We don’t know she wasn’t raped.”
“We can probably guess she was, we know she took enormous physical abuse.” McQuade shrugged that off as if we were discussing the changing of a tire on a vehicle. “What’s your point?”
“Why the hell are you in her bed instead of out here, keeping watch, like you’re supposed to be?” The icy tone Remington spoke in came far closer to matching my thoughts than his words did. I wouldn’t have put it that way and at the same time, I wanted an answer.
“It’s none of your business,” McQuade said, then he tugged a phone out of his pocket. “I also have all the exterior cameras on here. The motion sensors would alert me—and they did. We had a very curious bunch of deer come through last night.”
The screen had been divided into four and flickered from one location to another. All places we’d put up cameras to give us the widest possible angles and the best views if anyone came at us from the road or the woods.
“So you put her safety into the hands of motion sensors.” Contempt licked every single syllable the British assassin spoke. Frankly, I couldn’t manufacture that level of disappointment or disdain. I wonder if it came with Remington’s pedigree. I hadn’t heard him come up the hall, but good to know we were on the same page.
His increasing anger seemed to let the air out of my own. The motion sensors were out there for a reason. They were tied into all of our phones. We also had extraction plans in place. The one with or closest to Patch got her out while the other two dealt with whatever incursion there was.
Chances were good, I’d be the one running with her since these two were a lot deadlier. Still, if it came down to firing a gun or letting her get hurt—I’d happily take on my share of the bloodshed.
“Second guessing your own idea, mate?” McQuade was just baiting the bear now. “That was the point of the motion sensors. Another layer of security. Don’t worry, I had an exit plan ready to go if we were compromised. She would have been fine.”
The smugness was a bit much. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”
“Why not?” McQuade swung his gaze toward me before he motioned to the coffeemaker. “Also are you planning on making that or just having your judgment for breakfast?”
“Look, asshat,” I said, flattening my hands against the counter. “Fuck off with that attitude. You’re acting like you’re the only one involved.”