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SIX

LANDRY

As soon as I returned from my run the following afternoon and turned off the workout app that blocked my notifications, I immediately knew something was wrong. I almost always had a couple of new texts or news alerts chime through when I came back online; I’d never had two dozen texts and missed phone calls, most from the Brotherhood, asking me to call ASAP.

My first thought was that it had something to do with Lellie, so I didn’t bother checking any other alerts. I set up my laptop on the table by the settee in my bedroom—my usual spot for doing videos since it hid the rest of the room’s distinctive antique furnishings from view—and started a video call without even bothering to shower.

“What happened?” I demanded.

Silas’s forehead creased in concern. “We can’t get in touch with Kenji.”

“Oh.” My heart gave a little jolt, but I reminded myself I’d spoken to him less than twenty-four hours before. He’d been fine then—pricklier than a cactus, sexier than any three men put together, and saying utterly infuriating things about where he fit in our lives, but otherwise fine —and he’d assured me he was safe. “He’s keeping his phone turned off because of the retreat,” I reminded them. “I’m sure he’ll?—”

“Landry,” Way interrupted. Silas’s husband’s face was so serious my lungs squeezed immediately. “San Cordova’s under martial law.”

“But…” I shook my head. “Kenji’s at a luxury resort.”

Even as I spoke the words, I knew how foolish and flimsy they were. Money and privilege could only protect you from so much.

The members of the Brotherhood, their various partners, and Foster, who happened to be the local sheriff, were all arranged around the large kitchen table at Dev and Tully’s place, and they’d set up the webcam at the end so I could see everyone. We’d done this kind of thing many times before… but I’d never felt nauseous in one of these impromptu meetings before now.

“You’re in Europe, right? I don’t know if you’ve been following the news,” Silas began, “but there’s a copper mine?—”

“Yes, Jesus. I know,” I snapped, texting Kenji when a call wouldn’t go through. “The miners are protesting unsafe working conditions.”

Are you okay?

I closed my eyes and sent another one.

Text me if you can.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t immediately write back. The messages didn’t even say Delivered.

“He can’t reply, Landry,” Silas called, immediately realizing what I was doing. “They’ve shut down all nonessential communication.”

“Fuck.” I threw my phone down on the cushion beside me and raked my hands through my hair before looking back to the laptop. “What’s the latest? Tell me everything.”

Way leaned in and rested his elbows on the table so I could see him clearly on the camera. “The protests turned violent overnight with the murder of the labor secretary in his home. The president panicked and declared martial law, but then his personal security team decided to move him to an undisclosed location on the island. It’s a little unclear if they’re with him or against him.”

He continued. “Meanwhile, their military leaders are apparently a mix of government loyalists and islanders whose families work in those mines or live close enough to be impacted by the toxins. So it’s hard to say what side everyone’s going to come down on. Right now, it’s very up in the air with the possibility of more violence, a coup, you name it.”

My head swam with the thought of Kenji in danger. “What do we do? How do we get him out? What’s the State Department saying?”

Silas sounded more unsure than I’d ever heard him, which ratcheted up my fear by a thousand. “I don’t know, Landry. This is usually when we’d all ask Kenji how to handle a situation.”

“We need to call our attorneys,” I said helplessly. “We need to find someone in the State Department.”

Silas nodded. “Does anyone have any contacts?—?”

Bash narrowed his eyes in thought. “I have an acquaintance. He might be able to?—”

“Wait!” I blurted, pacing back and forth in my bedroom. “Wait, wait. We all have kidnap and ransom insurance! Let’s use that. They cover stuff like this. The company will go in and extract Kenji?—”

“He hasn’t been kidnapped.” Dev’s voice was a deep, worried rumble. “You said yourself, he’s at a luxury resort. That’s still the case… as far as we know.”

“Also… Kenji doesn’t have that kind of coverage, Landry.” Silas winced and shrugged. “It never occurred to anyone he’d need it. He’s not a high-value target.”

“Fuck off!” I snapped, not thinking rationally. Everyone’s eyes widened in shock, but I didn’t have time to manage their reactions. “This is Kenji we’re talking about. The center of every -fucking-thing for every person on this call. He’s high-value. He’s the highest value!” My voice cracked a little, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about that either.

I forced myself to blow out a breath, to think about the situation logically. “We need to get him home safely as soon as fucking possible. What are our options? Can we hire the same kind of company to go in? Don’t they just need a boat or something?”

All eyes turned to Ryan since Zane’s bodyguard and boyfriend had the most experience with personal security, but he shook his head. “It’s not as easy as they make it sound on TV. We don’t have a relationship with any of those companies, and we don’t know if Kenji’s actually in danger…” He glanced at Zane, who was watching him with pleading brown eyes, and broke. “But I can make some phone calls,” he agreed before giving Zane a kiss and walking out.

Bash stood up and pulled out his phone. “I’ll reach out to the guy at the State Department.”

Foster leaned forward, a coffee mug held between his hands on the table. His sheriff’s uniform gave him an air of commanding competence. I vaguely remembered he had excessive training in search and rescue, so I focused on him, eager for his input.

“I know it’s stressful, but let’s try and keep a level head. I think contacting the State Department is a good idea. I can’t imagine the US has an embassy there, but they’ll have other US citizens in San Cordova to be concerned about, too. We need to make sure Kenji’s name is on that list so he’s involved in anything they do.”

“Right, good.” Ordinarily, at this point, it would be Kenji taking over the meeting, fingers flying deftly over his tablet as he researched what we’d need with one hand and somehow managed to get it for us with the other. I felt completely inadequate to the situation. “I’ll, ah… look up embassies and see if the US has one there. Silas, maybe call our attorneys? See if they have any ideas?”

We spent the next several hours banging our heads against the wall. Ryan’s security contacts came up empty, and after waiting on hold with the State Department, we were told they’d add Kenji’s name to the list of citizens “possibly” in San Cordova. There was no embassy there, and the closest one wasn’t in a position to get involved yet.

After tracking down Kenji’s travel information, we called all of our contacts back with proof of his visit, copies of his passport, and everything else we could get our hands on.

Throughout it all, I kept texting Kenji.

Please, Kenj. I’m worried.

I knew it was pointless. I also knew it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t get a message out. But I craved something, anything, from him.

At one point, Tully returned to the table with Lellie on his hip. “Say hi to Uncle Landry,” he murmured, waving her little hand toward the camera.

“Hi, Lanny,” she said softly before tucking her face into Tully’s neck. I couldn’t help but be grateful for this one happy spark in an otherwise awful day.

Spending time on the video call with my friends, my found family, was healing in a way, but I couldn’t shake my fear for Kenji. Yes, he was at a luxury resort, but from everything I’d managed to read, San Cordova was a developing nation without reliable infrastructure and adequate resources to handle a situation like this.

Bash came in from another room where he’d been on a call. From the look on his face, I could tell it wasn’t good. “I got an update from the guy I know. Armed personnel have surrounded the resort where Kenji is. It’s unclear whether they’re protecting the tourists or holding them.”

My stomach plummeted. “Surely Kenji’s not the only American there,” I asked. “The government has to have a plan to get them out.”

“Unfortunately, the State Department isn’t willing to act until there’s a clear indication they’re in danger,” Bash said. “Fucking bureaucracy.”

Foster pressed his lips together. “Yeah. You know if there was a famous American there, they’d already have a plan to get boots on the ground. We receive way more resources to find lost rich kids than poor ones. And if there’s a celebrity involved? There’s no limit to the amount of money and personnel involved in a rescue operation.” He glanced between us. “Does anyone know if Kenji’s retreat had anyone famous attending?”

“The guy putting on the retreat is famous,” I volunteered. “Chaska Inira.”

“He’s Peruvian, though, isn’t he?” Bash said. “The US isn’t going to foot that bill.”

“We don’t know who else is there,” Silas said. “None of us have talked to Kenji in two weeks.”

“I have,” I admitted. “But you know Kenji’s not the type to name-drop celebrities. How do we figure out who else is there?” I asked.

“People like that might use hashtags on socials,” Zane suggested.

“I don’t think they’re allowed to use their phones,” Dev cut in. “Screws with the meditation vibes.”

This was true… but I happened to know at least one person who hadn’t been able to grind out four whole weeks of mindfulness. I was willing to bet there were more.

“It’s worth a try,” I told Zane. “You guys search for San Cordova hashtags, and I’ll look for ones for the resort.”

We quickly discovered a young Chicago socialite named Lindsey Graves, who had a significant following on social media and had been posting practically nonstop since landing on the island… at least until yesterday.

I wasn’t sure she was enough of a celebrity to prompt State Department involvement, but I couldn’t help scrolling her retreat photos anyway, hoping to catch a glimpse of Kenji in the background. Instead, I found a different familiar face in one of her posts. The guy had changed a lot since Eton, but his square jaw and thick blond hair had stayed the same.

I felt a new spark of hope.

I sent the photo to the Brotherhood. “This is Jamie Winthrop. His father, Jim, is the CEO and co-founder of Winthrop & Meyers, a large investment firm. They’re American expats in London with plenty of money. Winthrop’s a pretty powerful businessman. I’m guessing he’ll do whatever it takes to get his son back. He’s probably already working on it.”

Foster sat back in his chair. “Is he influential enough in London or the States to pull some strings? If so, maybe we could get Kenji out with the Winthrop kid.”

Silas’s eyes flicked to mine. “Landry, do you think this Jim guy will take a call from us?”

I hesitated. “I don’t know.”

Jim had spent a lot of time and money trying to establish himself in London’s financial market over the years, including several attempts at influencing my father’s votes in Parliament. This had led to a very open rivalry between the two men—Jim had dismissed my father as an old-school traditionalist while my father referred to Winthrop as nouveau riche and implied Jim’s thirty-year-old company was too new to take seriously—which was one of the reasons Jim’s son and I hadn’t run with the same crowd at Eton. I’d come up with the boys from old families while he’d stuck with the other expats and new-money kids.

Between not knowing Jim personally and his contentious history with my father, contacting him would have to be a last resort.

I opened my mouth to try to explain some part of this but remembered at the last minute that I couldn’t. As far as the Brotherhood was concerned, I was a poor kid from the wrong side of the council estate.

The lie was a familiar bitter lump in the back of my throat, but it felt larger than ever now. Hard to swallow around. Hard to breathe through.

I clenched my back teeth. There was someone other than Jim Winthrop I could call for help. My father had been friends with the current prime minister for as long as I could remember. “Guys, I have an idea. Let me see what I can do.”

After a quick shower, I threw on clean clothes and went searching for Nan. As soon as she saw the look on my face, she dropped her affectionate smile.

“What’s going on?” she asked, closing her laptop on the desk in her office.

“I need to get in touch with Teddy Baines.”

“We should get our PR team on hand before you announce anything,” she said hesitantly. I realized she thought I’d meant to call the prime minister to start the process of taking a spot in Parliament.

“Not about that. It’s about Kenji. He’s in San Cordova, caught up in a violent protest.”

She opened the laptop again and went searching for the information I needed. “Oh, Landry. I’m so sorry. I’ve got Teddy’s mobile number right here.”

“Thanks, Nan.”

“Of course. Let me know what else I can do.”

After retreating to my bedroom again, I took a shaky breath and called the prime minister. It immediately went to voicemail, which didn’t surprise me since I was calling from an unknown number.

I texted.

It’s Everett Davencourt, Viscount Hawling. Need help re: San Cordova. Please.

“Everett?” Teddy asked gruffly as soon as I accepted his call.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’d ask where you’ve been, but I have bigger concerns right now. Who do you know in San Cordova?”

I swallowed. Calling Kenji a friend would sound stupid and unimportant and was patently untrue, so I avoided calling him anything.

“His name is Kenji Toma. I want to know if you have a plan to get anyone out of there.”

“I’ve already heard from several other British families affected by this situation. Send the info on your friend. UK passport number would be ideal, but if you?—”

“He’s American.”

There was a pause. “Everett, I’m sorry, but I can’t?—”

“He’s my fiancé,” I blurted, shocking myself as much as Teddy. “We’re getting married. He’s my partner. I need to get him out. Money’s no object?—”

“It’s not that. This is a delicate situation because of our history with San Cordova,” he said. “In addition, the political ramifications of expending our resources on an American?—”

“I’ll do anything,” I said in a low voice. “Pay any amount of money. Make any calls. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

I knew it was unwise to give someone carte blanche like that, but I meant it. I would burn the world to bring Kenji home.

Teddy paused. “I need your father to retire?—”

“That’s already in progress,” I assured him. “His health is… precarious.”

“—and I need you to take his place.”

Fuck. How had I not seen this coming?

I closed my eyes and covered them with my hand. “I-I’m not ready, sir. It’s one of the reasons I haven’t stepped forward as the head of the family?—”

“I understand. And I’m sorry about Ed. He’s a good friend and a good man. But I need some energy in the Lords. Allies to outweigh the antagonists. I’ve been following your career, and you’re quite popular with young people. You acquitted yourself well at Yale, and I know you’ve been working diligently on the Davencourt holdings behind the scenes since then. I think you could do a lot for the party… and for the country.”

“Sir…” I hesitated, my stomach twisting with nerves. “Even if I agree to run, there’s no guarantee I’ll be selected?—”

“Leave that to me,” he said. “At least tell me you’ll let me submit you to the Clerk for consideration.”

Panic flared beneath my skin, but what else could I say? “I… yes. Alright.”

“Excellent! Come to Downing Street and bring your man’s information. We’ll see what we can do.”

When the call ended, I raced to my closet and grabbed the nearest things, for once not caring whether any of it went together. Then, I made my way through the city.

After giving Kenji’s information to an assistant, I was escorted to a conference room where several people were gathered. I immediately recognized Jim Winthrop. Before I had a chance to greet him or anyone else, one of the officials in the room quirked her head at me. “You’re Landry Davis.”

“Yes.” I nodded, knowing where this was going.

“But…”

“I am also Everett Davencourt,” I explained. “Everett Landry Davencourt.”

She paused while trying to work it out. “Bit like a stage name, I guess. And it’s your fiancé in San Cordova?” Her eyes went wide. “Oh, wow. Did you give the coordinator his information?”

I nodded as the prime minister entered the room.

Teddy came over and shook my hand. “Everett, welcome. Have a seat.”

“I prefer Landry to Everett, sir.”

“Noted. Helen, do we have any updates on the situation?”

The woman nodded and returned her focus to the laptop in front of her. “The protesters want to use the resort tourists as a bargaining chip. They’re demanding a repeal of the decision to allow the copper mine to operate without the proper safety measures. The companies who purchase from that mine are involved now, and they’re in the process of trying to balance putting pressure on the San Cordovan government without…”

As she continued to explain the geopolitical complexity of the issue, it became clear that there were more players involved in the crisis than I’d expected: various countries and companies, not to mention the upset workers and locals.

I glanced across at Jim Winthrop, whose nostrils were flaring in annoyance. He finally cut in. “Sir, bottom-line this for us. Are you sending in a team to get our people out of there, or are you leaving it up to the private sector to solve?”

“Right now, we’re still assessing the situation. As you can imagine, it’s a delicate matter, considering our history with San Cordova and our relationships with various players. Our hope is that the corporate customers involved will put enough pressure on the company to do the right thing in regards to the safety protocols. We need to give them time to do it. If we get involved prematurely, it could be considered an aggressive act by a foreign nation.”

Jim folded his arms across his chest. “How much time?”

Teddy met his eye. “That remains to be seen. Thus far, we have no reason to believe there are British citizens in immediate danger.”

I leaned forward to remind him, “The protesters murdered someone already. That seems like danger.”

Teddy turned toward me. “I understand. But they murdered someone they felt had caused the problem. The tourists aren’t part of this conflict.”

Jim’s tone was incredulous. “Except for the part where they’re being held as a bargaining chip!”

He was right. As Jim did his best to convince Teddy to send in a team, my head began to pound. I didn’t have the capacity to be patient. I wanted to fly to South America, source some especially lethal weapons, tactical gear, and a speedboat, and take things into my own hands, vigilante-style.

When the discussion turned into a repeating loop, Teddy and his team left to take a call and gather updated information. I met Jim Winthrop’s eyes before moving closer to him.

“They’re not going in anytime soon,” I said. “Have you contacted Executive Rescue? I assume you have a policy on Jamie.”

He nodded once.

“What do I have to do to get my fiancé on that boat?”

He eyed me as if suspicious I had an ulterior motive. “Rescuing two instead of one would increase the risks.”

I clenched my back teeth and tried to restrain my temper. “Then I’ll get another Executive Rescue team together, and I’ll offer them ten times whatever you’re paying to get my guy out first.”

Jim didn’t seem impressed with my bluster. “You’re threatening me while asking me a favor? You really are a Davencourt, aren’t you?”

“You’ll never insult me by comparing me to my father.” I stood and gathered my things. “I have to go. Apparently, I have a call to make and a company to bribe.”

“Wait,” he barked. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.” He glanced at the door before lowering his voice. “I need you to find us a plane that can get us from London to Ecuador as fast as possible. I sent mine to San Cordova with Jamie, and we need to get in the air in the next couple of hours if possible.”

That was easy. “Done.”

“You’ll owe me a favor, Davencourt. A big one. And you’d better hope nothing happens to my son because of this.”

I took a breath and steeled myself. The only favor I could imagine a finance executive like Winthrop wanted was political influence. It sounded like I was going to be forced to consider serving in Parliament sooner rather than later, no matter who helped get Kenji out.

But did it really matter who I owed a favor to if it meant keeping Kenji safe?

“Understood,” I said. “We can discuss it on the plane.”

He met my eyes. “This is going to upset the prime minister. There could be fallout for both of us.”

I nodded. He was right, but I didn’t much care. Maybe an upset prime minister would be the key to releasing me from parliamentary expectations.

I quickly texted our pilots before texting Nan to have a bag packed and sent to the airport for me. Jim did the same on his end, and within an hour, we were on the plane, awaiting the pilot’s final checks.

After ending a call with Executive Rescue, I tried texting Kenji again, though I knew it would be fruitless.

I’m working on a plan to get you out of there. Stay safe until then.

I glanced at my screen in shock as Kenji’s photo appeared a moment later. I quickly answered the incoming call.

“Baby?” I blurted, scrambling to keep from dropping the phone. “Are you okay?”

Kenji’s voice was unusually harried. “Landry, fuck. I can’t believe I got through. They have us all locked in our rooms. Men with guns. They… it’s bad. They hit a man in the head with the butt of a rifle and shoved a woman down onto the pavement.” He swallowed a sob, and the sound nearly brought me to my knees. “There’s a rumor they killed someone in the government. Now, there are men with guns patrolling the hallway outside our rooms. They don’t look like military. I need you to call a company called Executive Rescue. See if you can?—”

“Already did,” I said, interrupting in case we got cut off. “I’m working on getting you out. Stay safe, please. And if you get put into a group, find a guy named Jamie Winthrop and stay close to him.”

“You know Jamie?” he asked in surprise.

“His father and I are working together to get you both out of there. And Kenji—” I hesitated.

How was I supposed to explain all the things I hadn’t told him over the past ten years —who I truly was, how I felt about him, why I hadn’t said anything before now—when we might only have ten seconds before we were disconnected?

In the end, we didn’t even have that long.

“Someone’s coming,” Kenji said, nerves clear in his voice.

“Find a weapon,” I instructed. “Corkscrew near coffee stuff, maybe? Your razor? What else?” I racked my brain to think of what he might travel with that could be used as a weapon, but I drew a blank. “Grab your portable phone battery in case they move you. Put the phone in your sock or something.”

“Wait, they’re…” I heard fabric sounds like he was moving the phone down against his chest. The sound of muffled shouting came through the phone, making me break out in a cold sweat. The pilot was waiting for me to finish my call before we could take off since even on a private plane, I wasn’t supposed to make cell calls. I worried about Kenji trying to reach me while I was in the air. The flying time to Ecuador would be at least fourteen hours.

“Kenji,” I pleaded softly.

“They’re pulling people out of their rooms, Landry. What do I do?”

My jaw ached. My throat felt like it was filled with cement. “Can you hide?”

“No, there’s nowhere to, oh fuck !”

I could hear the shouting clearly enough to recognize the Spanish words for go , ransom , now , and hostage .

“Kenji, I’ll pay it! Whatever they ask. I… I… Kenj?—”

A loud slamming sound was accompanied by more shouting, the sound of Kenji exclaiming in surprise, and then nothing.

I stared at the phone in horror when I realized the call had ended. I didn’t dare try calling back in case, by some miracle, he was able to hide his phone on his person before someone saw it and took it away.

My hands shook, and my skin prickled under a cold sweat. I finally glanced up at the flight attendant. “I’m ready. Let’s get this plane off the ground now .”

He nodded and turned toward the cockpit.

Jim leaned forward, pressing his hands flat on the small table between us. “What happened? Was that him?”

I tried to control my breathing to keep from panicking. “Yeah. He… they… it sounds like there are armed men taking the tourists hostage. At first, they were locked in their rooms, but he said they’re pulling people out of their rooms now. It didn’t sound good.”

Jim’s face turned florid. He took out his phone and began typing, presumably sending texts or emails to update the rescue team and urge them to move faster.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back as the plane chased the sunset. I thought about the sun setting on San Cordova, about how violence increases at night, and how the island nation was several hours from Ecuador by boat.

Mostly, I thought about how I wished I’d told Kenji I loved him so that he fully understood that I would do anything in my power to get him out safely… including telling the British prime minister he was my future husband, making a deal with one of our family’s political enemies, and agreeing to throw off years of silence to finally claim my public role as the heir to the Davencourt earldom and serve in the House of Lords.

As the plane shot through the night, the intricate house of cards I’d been building meticulously for fifteen years came tumbling down, leaving a single joker lying facedown in the rubble.