Page 2 of The Devil’s Detail (The Greystone Family: Greystone Brothers #2)

Jackson

“You look like shit, brother.”

I raise my eyebrows at my youngest brother Jonno’s clinical assessment. He doesn’t look so good himself, so I'm not sure why he’s throwing stones at me.

“I could say the same thing to you. Are we talking about it?” He shakes his head. I knew he’d say no. “Didn’t think so. But actually, now I am looking at you, you look terrible. Was your mount an also ran?”

He splutters loudly and his head snaps up, his harsh glare hitting me in the chest. What a reaction.

“Whoa, really? I think we do need to talk.” The runners and riders event was obviously a monumental event for us both.

“We don’t. But she was definitely not an also-ran. More like the Queen Bee.”

I’m shocked. I’ve never heard Jonno talk about anyone this way. And we do tend to discuss everything.

“Why were you bringing up the rear, anyway? You’d already switched to be the mount.

” He’s grinning now, I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. He thinks it’s hilarious that I would choose to not be in charge.

“Did you get a good whipping for being too slow?” He makes a clicking sound with his mouth.

The one horse people do to horses to get them to move. Yeah, he’s on a roll.

I roll my eyes at him. “You’re just jealous that my rider got more than he bargained for.”

He goes still, but doesn’t say anything. Did I mean to tell him it was a man I was with? He won’t be bothered, but?—

“Did you just say ‘he’?”

He’s watching me now. Every little nuance is being dissected and disambiguated.

I continue to stare at him. He thinks he’s the shit in interrogation. He forgets who he’s dealing with. I nod slowly at him.

He blows out a long slow breath. “Oh.”

“Is it a problem?”

His face changes to one of worry instantly, his head shaking aggressively.

“God, no. Just didn’t think you liked it that much.

” He shrugs his shoulders. He’s part owner of a sex club in London.

Doesn’t get involved in the running of it, but I know he’s an investor as well as patron.

And I know he doesn’t have a judgemental bone in his body about people’s orientations or inclinations.

“Well neither did I, until last night.” I’m trying to keep my tone light and breezy. I’m failing, and he’ll see straight through it.

His focus sharpens on me. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk it through?”

I really don’t want to delve into it. I’d never talk about technicalities. And as for emotions, well that isn’t happening. Not today.

So it’s my turn to give a little shrug. “Not sure I can. I signed an NDA.”

He chuckles. “Everyone signs NDAs, and last night was no names. I was Mr Black, and my Queen was Miss Roulette.” He grins like a savage. God knows what that woman had to put up with.

“Yeah, well I had to sign extra ones. And I was blindfolded throughout the whole affair. So not sure what the extra NDA was about. I never saw the man.” I smirk a little at the memory of the blindfold.

His mouth has dropped open in shock. “The lucky bastard. He fucked your brains out and you don’t even know what he looks like. Whoa, I’m all over that.”

I might have known he’d be amused by it. Anything out of the ordinary, and he’s all over it like a rash.

“So what can you say?” He sips his coffee, perusing me.

I feign nonchalance. “We had sex a lot.”

He makes a ‘yeah, boring’ noise in the back of his throat and I grin. I know this is winding him up.

“Please tell me you were topping.” He strikes a ‘you better have been’ pose. I laugh. “Fucking hell, Jackson. A mount and bottoming? You’ve lost it.”

He’s disgusted with my submission, but that’s a him problem. I adored it. And I’m grinning like a madman at him to rub it in just a bit more.

“Anything else?” he prods. “You might as well hit me with all the details you can. Name, bank account number, cock size?” I go to open my mouth and he shouts, “Whoa, whoa. No cock size, please. I was joking.”

“I wasn’t going to divulge the fucking massive size of his cock. But his name was Bonney.”

“Bonney by name and nature?” He’s giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Mr Jameson Bonney. Oh, and he was British.”

He nearly chokes on his drink. “Fucking Jameson Bonney. What a pretentious prick.” He stands and strikes a pose with his hands on his hips, and in a posh English accent states, “The name’s Bonney, Jameson Bonney.”

My face changes, as he did sound just like that.

“Oh, my fucking God, he pulled that one on you.”

Yeah, and I bought it. Drank it down like a naive man, not one who’s actually completed some of the most dangerous covert ops Mr Jameson Bonney only performs in his hit spy film franchise. This could have been one of those scenes.

“Yeah, he did. Just before he demanded I suck his cock.”

He looks like he might vomit on me. “Do you have to? I really don’t need that image in my head.”

I smirk. “That would be tame.” My smirk widens out as he shudders. Yeah, no one wants the visual of their relative in that kind of position.

“Well, it seems like we both had an experience.” He loves to redirect, and I give it to him. Take my mind off the details. “If there are people here who like the blindfold, no names, and hard fucking, maybe I’ll join CAshO permanently.”

“Thought that was your everyday,” I goad him.

“Actually, on second thoughts, I won’t have time. I’m off back home tomorrow. Maybe Jameson Bonney will be on my flight to England. Any distinguishing marks I should look out for?” His eyes are full of glee. I don’t think I’m ever going to hear the last of this.

“No fucking clue. I was blindfolded, remember?” It sounds farcical, even to my ears.

“You’ve got hands, haven’t you?” He’s looking at me like I’m crazy. “And a tongue.” He’s nearly pissing himself with laughter.

Yes I do have, and they roamed over the cut torso all night. The eight pack, his scent. Fuck they were delicious. Oud, cardamom, and a spice that was just out of reach, but absolutely blew my mind. I could get high on it. Pick it out in a line up.

“Nothing distinguishing. But his body was glorious, serious work gone into it. I’d know, mine is pretty spectacular.” I preen, but I’m not lying either.

“Shut up, you sound like Kell.”

We both grin. One of my sister’s husbands has a serious gym body, and he knows it. As does the rest of the world. He’s always taking his clothes off on stage—rockstars for you.

I start cooking breakfast for us, and he moves the topics onto more mundane subjects.

“What have you decided to do about Carter Maywood? Are you going to meet him? Risk it?”

He’s grinning at me. He knows Hollywood A-lister Carter Maywood.

And he knows the man drools over us both.

Carter may be a friend of my sister, Evie, but as a security prospect, he’s high risk.

Anything goes wrong and he gets hurt, it’s the security’s capability that gets questioned and thrown in the firing line, not the celebrity’s inciting behavior.

I huff. "I've got to go meet him. Evie is on my case about him. Apparently, Carter’s bestie Kasey Becker is on the phone daily to her. He can’t even leave her alone when she’s due to give birth.

” I raise my eyebrows at that one. He’s a true pain in the arse.

“Telling her how Carter is upset with his current security arrangements. And will we go see him and take him on as a client.” I’m shaking my head in exasperation.

“I could do without it, to be honest. I’ve seen some of the debacles on television.

He always looks like he’s being mobbed.”

“I’ll mention it her when I get to Scotland. I’m headed there first. She’ll understand if you decide not to take him on. Personally, I’d avoid him like the plague. I know it’s big bucks, but you know that everything has its price for a reason.”

He’s turned serious again, and I know he’s right.

I watched some celebrity segment yesterday where Carter was in London and was surrounded whilst having dinner with friends.

Ridiculous to be put in such a predicament.

Then, instead of trying to temper the crowd and quell it, he’d ramped it up.

And his security had let him. So dangerous.

“Well, I’m meeting up with him next week, so I’ll keep you posted. I'll get the lay of the land and then make a decision.”

We sit in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I’m sure Jonno’s are on his mysterious queen, and mine are certainly on my mystifying prince.

Later, as he’s loading his bags into the car, he pauses and harks back to our conversation. I know him so well, it’s an easy follow.

“So do you think you’ll try and find out who it is?” He’s genuinely curious. I can hear it in his voice. He loves a mystery, especially other people’s.

“No, will you?”

He hesitates. It's so slight, I would’ve missed it if I’d blinked. Well, well, well. Jonno Greystone is intrigued. I’ll be watching this space, for certain.

“No. That’s the game, isn’t it?” He’s shrugging a little too hard. And I’m waving my hands around in indifference. Not sure who either of us are trying to kid. “No inhibitions, no names, no feelings or emotions. No contact.”

I nod, and we both stare off into space. Why does that sound like the worst thing in the world right now?