Page 6 of The Devil’s Detail (The Greystone Family: Greystone Brothers #2)

Jackson

My world just exploded. Someone dumped a scented hand grenade into my lap and walked away. That scent, his scent… Oud, cardamom, and spices—all fucking twenty of them—is swirling around the cafe. Who? Where? When?

I’m in fucking public, and I have to at least look as if I’m sane, but my cock is getting hard at the thought of him and all that that scent conjures up. It’s ignited my senses.

“Carter, has someone new come into the cafe?”

He can’t get any words out. He knows something is wrong with me, and, to be honest, he’s blatantly staring at my fly, which is obviously giving him a serious show.

I think it must be pulsating. I have to touch his shoulder to get him to focus on my face.

Fucking Carter, he’s always drooled over Jonno and me.

“Hey!” I’m snapping my fingers at his eyes. “Think, Carter. Has someone been in here?” I gesture to the toilets, and the fact I only stepped out for a few moments, but he’s nodding his head as if he’s in a trance.

“Autograph,” is all he states. Helpful then.

My breathing has picked up now, panic gripping my stomach. Where has the man gone?

“It was for his sister.” He looks up at me with puppy dog eyes. “Should I not have signed it?” He looks panic-stricken now. “Was he a spy?” He’s lost it, his mind jumping to the worst case scenario.

But I can’t tell him the truth. He would have a field day, and I’d never hear the last of it.

Clawing all my professional persona back together, I ask him, “Which way did he go?”

He looks bewildered and simply points to the door and shrugs.

I stride away. He must have driven here. Nobody lives within a mile of this place.

I rip open the door and see a few black Escalades in the parking lot—obviously Carter’s useless security detail.

Why the hell they hadn’t come into the coffee shop first and scoped it out is beyond me.

Or sat someone in, having a drink and watching.

They deserve sacking. And now this rogue, Jameson Bonney… Where the hell would he have gone?

I search the lot. Nobody other than Carter's security, who baulks when they spot me. Trying to intimidate me perhaps, they gather as a group as I approach them. Futile efforts on their part. Do they not know who I am?

“Stay away from our client.” One even gives me a shove just to make sure I’m listening.

I’m not. I’m sniffing. I’m trying to take in their scents. But please God don’t let it be one of them. I’d die of embarrassment. But that was the risk, wasn’t it? He’d know me, but I’d never know him.

What feels like an age later, I resignedly slink back into the coffee shop. Carter is talking to Dave. I cut past all the chit chat. “Do you have CCTV?” I query the cafe owner.

“Do I, Carter?” He looks to Carter, who looks equally clueless. I’ll take that as a no.

“Any form of cameras either inside or outside the premises?” Again blank stares from both. “Maybe they’re hooked up to the internet or cloud?” I ask hopefully.

Dave looks outside and upwards to the small, puffy, white clouds floating by. I blow out a breath of exasperation.

“Should I be worried? Do you think that British guy was a threat?” Carter sounds practically frantic now.

British .

My heart stutters in my chest. It was him.

It’s my turn to stare out at the outside world in wonder.

All I can think about now is him. His scent, his touch, how he licked every inch of my body.

The nips and bites. My jeans must be displaying my level of arousal, as I hear Carter groan.

He’s trying desperately to tear his eyes from certain parts of my anatomy, but failing spectacularly.

I spot one of Carter’s security lurking just outside the door now.

My resolve hardens where they are concerned.

That man could have been dangerous, and they were nowhere near to help out.

This cafe could have been packed to the rafters with crazed Carter fans—and there are a lot of them out there—and he would have been mobbed, again, as not one of them came to see where he was or what he was doing.

Carter may not have done his homework, but I have.

I know they’re charging him a king's ransom for subpar protection.

I try to sit and accommodate my… situation… and hide it from Carter’s uninhibited eyes.

“Right, Carter, here’s what I want you to do.” I authoritatively rattle off his tasks, ensuring he adds them to a list on his phone that only he knows the password to. I amaze myself at how forceful I can be. How decisive I have to be in my professional life.

Yet, in that room, I let go of the reins with consummate ease. What a juxtaposition.

I tell him I know the level of security he has, and question how he’s still a sitting duck on a weekly basis. He has no answers, he looks away with the fairies.

I make a decision to put someone on him today. Someone to trail him and his team, get the lay of the land. I don’t want a shit show if and when I take over, and I know just from what I’ve seen this morning, this security outfit is one coffee chat away from a disaster.

I don’t let on to Carter about some of my decisions. He’s best left in the dark for now. Instead, I hustle him out the door as fast as I can, then continue to stalk the car park.

It’s futile. He’s slipped through my fingers. But I’ll be prepared next time. He will not get away again.