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15

Sage

TheSaintMaurice’sspacioushoneymoon suite was the kind you saw in movies. With oak furniture and plush pale-gray carpet, it had been decorated to create a stylish yet relaxing atmosphere for its guests. If only it were that easy to calm my nerves.

My eyes lingered on the enormous king-size bed dominating the room. Brandon and I were adults. I was sure we could agree on an acceptable sleeping arrangement using rock, paper, scissors.

I picked up the note from the side table written on thick white parchment with the hotel’s gold logo embossed at the top. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Applebee. Wishing you many years of wedded bliss.” I snorted. “Bet the unhappy couple are still having a better night than us.”

Brandon tossed his bags on the bed, sending red rose petals scattering.

“Do you always carry a suitcase with you, or were you planning this little vacay?”

“No. I had to go to Illinois to pick up McKenzie. Didn’t you notice I’ve been away for two days?”

“My life has been kind of stressful lately. Sorry for being unaware of your absence.”

“You’re forgiven.”

I rolled my eyes as Brandon came toward me. He placed his large warm hands on my shoulders. “We’re here now. You’re safe,” he said in a soothing voice. “I’m downright amazed at how well you’ve handled everything even though you have every right to be upset over what happened tonight. I’m sorry I had to stifle your emotions by messing with you.” The concern in his eyes tugged at my heart. “Now tell me and be honest. Are you all right?”

I stared at him, dumbfounded by his Jekyll-and-Hyde change in persona. “Who are you, and what have you done with Brian Lamont?”

“Brian’s an idiot. Forget about him.” He raised his brows. “Well?”

I sighed. “I’m fine. As annoying as your tactics were, they worked. Apparently, rage wins out over a nervous breakdown.”

“Good. Now tell me what you need, and I’ll do my best to make it happen. Vodka? Comfort food?” A mischievous smile tugged on his lips. “A hug?”

I scrunched my nose. “I’m not a hugger. Besides, shouldn’t we patch up your arm?”

“Soon. First, I’m going to take care of you, then I need thirty minutes on my laptop. After that, you can play nurse.”

“Okay.” I eyed the bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket near the window. “I suppose that’ll help take the edge off.” Seemed a shame to waste it.

“Your wish is my command.” He removed his jacket with a wince and headed for the bottle.

“Wait. I can open it. You’re injured.”

He gave me a look as though I were being ridiculous before popping the cork and pouring two glasses.

After handing me a flute of bubbles, Brandon set up his laptop at a desk and got down to business, whatever that involved. I wasn’t sure how thirty minutes on a computer would salvage the clusterfuck we were in.

I took a sip of champagne and peeked over his shoulder. The lines of code made no sense to me.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

His eyes didn’t leave the screen while he worked. “Tracking Dante, deleting street-cam footage of our arrival and departure from the club, reinstating the cameras inside Vixens so I can monitor the investigation, setting up facial-recognition software to analyze potential threats entering this hotel, and creating a mirrored filing system in the police database so I have access to all newly logged evidence and investigation details.”

Whoa. Okay. He only needed thirty minutes to achieve that?

I crouched closer for a better look. “You can hack into government systems?”

“Yep. Are you surprised?” He turned to me. Too late, I realized the movement brought our faces mere inches apart.

I pulled back fast. “Only surprised you’re adding yet another major felony to the day’s already-extensive list.”

“Need I remind you that this felon is saving our asses? Again?”