Red After Dark (Blackwood Security #13) - Elise Noble Page 0,5
mile deep, and even though I’d craved his touch, I was glad he’d stayed away. If he’d come, it would have meant he didn’t trust me. And trust was everything.
“Me and Alaric are just friends now.”
“I know that. But it doesn’t mean I have to like it. Where is he, anyway? I thought he was coming back with you.”
“He did. He’s in the guest house with Ravi and Bethany.”
Black raised one dark eyebrow a fraction. “Ravi, I’m familiar with. Who’s Bethany?”
“The girl who worked for the dodgy guy that restored Red After Dark. After he fired her for asking too many questions, Alaric gave her a job as his PA.”
“A pity hire?”
“Maybe. I think he also fancies her, so who knows?”
They’d gotten awful close, awful fast. Was I jealous? No, not really. Above all, I wanted Alaric to be happy the way I was with Black. Was Bethany the right girl for him? I had no idea. She seemed nice enough. Kind but nervy. Book-smart but naïve.
“And Sky? Where’s she?”
“Asleep. She’s not used to jet lag, and she’s got an early start tomorrow.”
“Which bedroom did she pick?”
“The Egyptian room at my place. The one with hieroglyphics on the walls and those weird pots in the corner.” Handmade by an artist in Luxor, apparently. Bradley had gone to pick them up personally, although I suspected that was just an excuse to hook up with his boyfriend, who happened to be running an archaeological dig out there. “Sky said she wants to see the pyramids someday.”
Perhaps I should explain our living arrangements? I mean, how many couples had two houses next to each other? Well, Black had inherited the Riverley estate from his parents, but I’d always found it kind of dark. Gothic. We might have been married for close to sixteen years, but our original drunken wedding had been more of a scheme to help my citizenship application than a declaration of love, at least on my part. And back then, I’d made no bones about the fact I hated the house. So Black had bought me a plot of land next door as a birthday present and helped me to build my dream home. Little Riverley was the sun to Riverley Hall’s shadow.
But being Mrs. Black had grown on me, as had the hideous old monstrosity of a mansion, and when Little Riverley had accidentally got blown up a few years ago, I’d moved into Black’s house and never quite gotten around to leaving again. Sometimes, we stayed at Little Riverley for a change of scene, and I still kept my horse at the stables there. If Sky wanted to use the place, I was glad—it deserved to be lived in properly again.
Black pressed his hips into me, letting me feel the goods. “So we’re alone?”
“Yes, but—”
“Why is there always a ‘but’?”
I gave his ass a good squeeze. “More of a rain check. I have a call with James in half an hour.”
“What is this? Catch-up-with-your-exes week? Should I invite Nick over? Xavier? Jed? Luke? Is Gideon in town? How about Sofia?”
Yup, the green-eyed monster had reared its ugly head again.
“Chill, it’s just work. Research stuff.”
“What kind of research?”
“We think Red After Dark was brought to the US by Senator Carnes’s assistant. Former Senator Carnes. And today, he endorsed—”
“One of his party’s opponents. Yes, I know.”
The video had been short and sweet, but Carnes had definitely given Devane his wholehearted backing.
“But do you know why?”
“No. Do you?”
“No, and that’s why I want to speak to James. I bet he’s been asking the same question. Don’t you want to hear his take on this?”
“Yes,” Black admitted. “If Kyla Devane wins that seat, the ripples will be felt across the whole country.”
“Then sit in on the call. I should probably fetch Alaric too since this is his case. Let’s get some answers.”
Because if anyone could fill in the blanks on a political conundrum, it was the President of the United States.
CHAPTER 3 - ALARIC
“SHALL I MAKE dinner?” Bethany asked. “There’s a whole load of food in the fridge. I presume we can use it?”
Alaric couldn’t remember the last time a woman had cooked for him. Probably a decade ago at least. Emmy burned everything, and his parents ate out practically every night. That wasn’t to say he’d always had to fend for himself—Judd was a budding chef, so he cooked if they were in London, and if Naz wasn’t on yet another fad diet, he wasn’t bad in the kitchen either. Ravi’s