Page 21 of Collateral Claim

This makes her stutter, but not stop. “I…I wasn’t running away. I raced toward the plane because my sister said she’s coming. You shot my dad, and she would figure out you’re kidnapping me. Charlotte would fight for me tooth and nail, and she would lose to you and your people. I can’t have that. I alsocan’t let you hurt my dad anymore. Now it looks like we left together, so you see, I’m willing to heed your demands. You want information on your brother. I want all this over with so I can leave for my assignment at the end of summer.” She bites her lip and looks away. “When you release me. You will release me, right? If I cooperate, will you release me?”

She seeks reassurance that I’ll honor my end of the bargain, but I can’t coddle my enemy’s daughter, even if I want to. It’s a weakness I can’t afford because my brother’s life is at stake.

“Your father needs to make a few calls. The sooner, the better.”

“Yes, but if he gives you what you want, will you let me go?”

I open the car door and jerk my head. “Get in.”

Chapter 11

He doesn’t answer me

Scarlett

My parents’ marriage was one of convenience. Or of obligation. I never knew which term applied to the union that happened solely because my father impregnated my mother. Neither of them wanted a baby, but my grandpa insisted they take responsibility for their “negligent deeds” and forced marriage on them.

They were both nineteen.

After I was born, my mother learned to love her new role, and less than two years later, Charlotte came. Close in age, Charlotte and I grew up almost as twins. We shared everything and wouldn’t separate into two bedrooms, even after our dad moved us from a modest apartment into a big house and then our ranch mansion.

While I was in college, Charlotte got pregnant and married Josh. She followed in my parents’ footsteps. Charlotte delivered Beatrice before her nineteenth birthday. Having seen people in my family be forced into marriages because of babies, I’veabstained from relationships. Occasionally, when I get the itch, I’ll scratch it with colleagues I’ve identified as safe, but the selection is shrinking as I age since they’re forming their own unions. I’m no home-wrecker, so it’s been a while.

The plane touches down with a gentle thud, and Endo unbuckles his seat belt.

We haven’t come to a full stop yet, so I leave mine on as per regulations. Not that there are any regulations on private airplanes, but it’s a habit. Or perhaps an expectation. That’s probably why Endo releases his before it’s time. He defies other people’s expectations so he can deliver the unexpected. This makes his life more thrilling, I suppose.

I open the window shade, and the endless blue sea greets me.

The coast is pretty, I’ll give it that.

The plane takes a few minutes to stop. We disembark and load into a black SUV with tinted windows. Couldermouth is a town in the country with the sea on one side and gently rolling hills on the other. Around the town square, which is dominated by a big church, people frequent the small shops and bars, and a single building that might be a hotel.

We pass through the busy town and enter a forested area, where we drive for a good fifteen minutes. Next to me on the back seat, Endo is texting, but when he feels me looking at him, he lifts his head.

“Sleep well?” he asks.

He means on the plane. I did. “No.”

“You drooled. Like this.” He closes his eyes and opens his mouth, imitating a sleeping person.

“I was faking sleep so you’d talk about your secrets in front of me.”

He smiles, relaxing back into his seat. In his domain, Endo seems less tense.

The car clears the woods, and the road cuts through a lawn of meticulously mowed grass and trimmed bushes. We cross the bridge over a narrow river and park right after it on the left. I can see a small part of the house past Endo’s shoulder.

Marquis and Slada exit the car and lean against my door.

I turn toward Endo. “You’ll keep me in the car?”

Endo faces me and rests his elbow over the back seat, his fingers brushing the side of my jaw. A golden chain slides across his throat. “House rules,” he says.

“Didn’t think you liked rules.”

“It depends on whether I agree with them or not.”

“Fair enough.”