Page 4 of Unleash Hades (Ungoverned Spaces #5)

I looked down at the table to the minced meat and food. I could not believe we lost the battle of Agincourt to people who couldn’t boil potatoes. I had to eat this shill to keep my strength up. I knew that.

But I really did not want to. I lifted my fork to spear the meat, calculating how many bites I'd need to get my requisite grams of protein.

The dining room door flew open, slamming against the adjacent wall, rattling on its ancient hinges.

In came a pair of squabbling spies.

“I can’t always spare a man just because you can’t handle your end of the bargain,” Philippa Fox, Geordie Campbell’s wife, strode in. Her white stilettos clacked against the floor.

She kicked the fallen utensils aside, and they went sliding across the hardwood, bouncing off a wall.

“Oh dear,” she said, as she looked down at her feet, then the silver knife and fork. She bent at the knees to spare her modesty in her white pencil skirt and picked them up. “You dropped these, Rose?”

She stood, utensils in hand, and placed them on the tablecloth. Without invitation, she took a seat at the table.

“Help yourself, I insist,” Alastair said sarcastically, leaning back in his chair. “Why don’t you join us, Pippa? You and your little Yankee friend too.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” The second intruder took a seat beside me. The American. Brett.

He had another name, but it was too good for him. His spy name worked just fine. Brett fucking Bradley.

He placed one large hand on the table as he lowered himself into the seat to my right. He was fully sideways, facing me, his elbow draped over the backrest.

He was staring right at me.

It was creepy.

No good ever came from this man being around. The last time I saw him, he was beating up Philippa’s husband. Wait, no… maybe it was when Chloe was in danger? I wasn’t sure. It had been an eventful two years.

“Why is he looking at me like that?” I wrinkled my nose at Philippa. Then I said it again, for extra emphasis, “Why is he looking at me like… that?”

I could feel his stare. It was strange and piercing. His smirk was infuriating. What the hell did he want?

“I’m not looking at you, you handsome Frenchman,” he said, taking his knuckle and nudging my jaw with it. “I’m looking at my beautiful daughter.”

He turned his head, which just emphasized that he was lying.

He reached forward and picked up the carafe of water, refilling Rose’s drink.

“How are you, sweetheart?” Brett was all warmth and love when it came to his daughter. Then he turned his eyes to his son-in-law, and a dark cloud came over his features. There was murder in his eyes.

“I’m okay,” Rose said, picking up a fork and pushing her food around.

“You look tired.” Brett turned his eyes to his son- in-law. “Have you been letting her sleep?”

Alastair opened his mouth, but his wife stepped in before he could.

“He can’t breastfeed the babies,” Rose said, her shoulders slumping. “And they won’t take the bottle if I’m around.”

“They had no problem taking the bottle with their dedushka!” Brett used the Russian word for grandfather. “What’s your excuse?”

He turned again to the father of his grandchildren.

“I thought the war was going on. Is it over?” Rose tilted her head, interrupting the brewing fight. “Can I come home, now?”

Alastair’s back straightened. The idea of moving back to the States was the last thing he wanted.

“No, kiddo,” Brett said, sadly. “Not yet. But soon. I just want you and the babies far, far away from everything until it’s resolved.”

The Mafia wars and criminal enterprises were wreaking havoc on the American underground, and Brett was the orchestrator of it all. The insane puppet master.

Rose’s shoulders fell further. Alastair clenched his fist.

“We’re fine, here,” Alastair declared, reaching for Rose’s hand. He squeezed her fingers in his palm but didn’t have the wherewithal to realize that she was limply accepting his touch. Never returning it.

“Just say the word, Juju.” Brett used his nickname for his daughter - a nickname that didn’t really make sense now that I thought about it. “And I’ll have the lawyers draft a divorce, and you’ll own 25% of this company–”

“Hey!” Alastair was ready to jump up and murder Brett.

Sometimes, I wished they’d come to blows once and for all.

Just one last blowout fight so they could finally figure out which of them was a better protector for Rose - not that she needed one.

Shew as the woman with golden fists, now relegated to being a milk sack for two whining, mewling, little aliens.

No wonder she was unhappy.

“Could we possibly discuss what we came here to talk about, or is this pissing contest going to go on for much longer?” Philippa let out a loud, theatrical yawn.

“I’ll start,” she said, stretching her arms up and to the side as if she was exhausted.

She wasn’t. She was just trying to get the conversation back under her control.

“I’m building a case against a certain man, and I need your help. ”

Shit. Philippa, the head of a black wing of MI6 was now staring at me.

I shrugged, as if to say ‘why should I care?’

“He’s a mutual acquaintance of ours.”

Another shrug.

“A mutual enemy.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“ Putain ,” I said, rubbing the spot between my brows as I felt a headache begin to form. “You told her, didn’t you?”

My eyes pinged from Alastair to Rose, then back again.

“Well… not as such,” Rose pursed her lips. “I may have told Dad.”

“It’s not her fault,” Philippa said. “But back to the actual matter at hand, I need to get someone into the Underground Circuit. I naturally thought to ask Rose…”

“Which I forbid,” Brett said, side eyeing the she-spy.

“But since she’d just had the children, and is still breastfeeding, and…”

“Good God,” I stuck out my tongue and gagged. Breastfeeding. Diapers. Spit. Snot.

“Well breastfeeding takes a lot out of a woman, so she’s not going to be fighting ready for at least another year.

” Philippa kept talking as if I wasn’t trying to keep my food down.

She had a habit of ignoring things she didn’t like.

Sometimes that was people. “So, of course, I reached out to Brett’s people, but… ”

“We’re suffering, somewhat, because our chief financier has had to disappear for a time,” Brett inspected his nails.

What the hell were they even talking about? And why was I being forced to listen? English speakers love to hear themselves talk…

“So, they were out. They can’t just very well drop everything while they’re in dire straits, which brought us here.” Philippa leaned forward, placing her chin in the palm of her hand, leaning her elbow against the table. “Turning to my favorite security company.”

“Rose isn’t going near this operation, except as a trainer,” Brett said, as if he was still in negotiations with Philippa for… whatever the hell this was. “It’s not the time to send her back into the field as a primary.”

He looked at his daughter with pained, sympathetic eyes.

“She won’t even go as a trainer!” Alastair quipped. He was uniformally ignored by everyone.

Philippa rolled her eyes. “So sentimental, these daddies.”

“I feel like we’re off track here,” Alastair said. “Rose can’t go anywhere.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Brett said, pounding his chest. “To take care of my grandbabies, while my little girl helps train this one.” He nodded his head towards me.

“No!” Alastair leaned forward, ready to claw his father in-law’s eyes out. “I’ll go with her, at least.”

“You don’t ever send both parents on a mission.

” Brett smacked his forehead. “You shouldn’t send both of them on the same flight, as far as I’m concerned.

What if something happens, huh? Then who will parent the babies?

Or do you want me to take the kids full time? Because I will. Just say the word.”

“No.” Alastair seemed to be in love with that word today. No, no, no…

“Rose is a capable trainer, but probably not ready to get back in the ring just yet, right Juju?” Brett smiled lovingly at his daughter, before turning those brown eyes back to me.

“I’ve seen this one fight. We don’t need him to win the Underground Circuit.

Not everyone can be a champion like my kiddo.

We just want him to be good enough to not look like a fraud. ”

“What…?” I was confused.

Somehow, I was back into the mix.

“We have some people in the Underground, of course,” Brett said, as he speared his fork into the food in front of him. “Backup, to make sure nothing happens to my kid.” Then he looked at me and shrugged. “You’re on your own, though. I’m not letting them get distracted to save you, Frenchy.”

Gracious of him.

“Why can’t your contacts in the Underground Circuit get you the information?” I interjected, leaning forward with my elbow on the edge of the table. “Why do you need one of us?”

The table looked at me like I had grown a dick out of my forehead.

“You’re speaking an awful lot during this dinner,” Rose observed with a smirk.

I hadn’t seen her smile in a few months. Maybe the presence of her father rejuvenated her.

“Right?” Brett agreed with her, even though he had just arrived, and hadn’t been privy to the previous conversation. “We have two assets in place in the Underground, and we can’t compromise their cover. The job they’re doing is too important.”

“What do you want?” I asked, again.

“Okay, Hugo,” Rose said, with a teasing glint in her eye. “I’m going to need you to calm down. You’ve said at least three sentences and that’s… that’s a lot.”

The sparkle was back, and I don’t think that was lost on her observant father. Another reason for him to hate his son-in-law.

“What do you need from me?” Obviously, they were asking me to do something. That was the point of all the staring.

Why the fuck couldn’t these idiots ever just say what they meant? Why was everything so complicated? Bloody spies!

“The Underground Circuit is being used to traffic as part of the Triangle Trade,” Brett said, leaning back into his seat. “We think we have a potential asset. But we need to make contact.”

“Why?” I interrupted, as he opened his mouth to speak more.

I knew Brett Bradley. If you didn’t interrupt him, the man would never shut up.

“The asset is heavily guarded, and probably a victim herself,” Brett said, his finger tapping on the tabletop. “But if our information is correct, they’ve seen enough to bring the whole organization down. We think they’re the smoking gun.”

“So go talk to her yourself…” I was getting annoyed.

The man could speak a novel when a haiku would suffice.

“Aren’t you listening?” he said, with a smirk. “They’re heavily guarded. I can’t just walk up to them and demand information. It needs finessing. They must be cultivated. We must establish trust.”

“And you want me to join the Underground so I can fight and…”

“Fight the asset in the ring. That’s right,” Philippa reached over with a fork, picked a piece of meat from Rose’s plate and plopped it into her mouth.

“You want me to beat a woman?” I said, confused. “That will establish… trust?”

“How sexist of you,” that ponce, Brett, said, in mock offense. “She’s more likely to beat you. After all, Juju here was a champion, and she certainly could give you all a run for your money…”

“Blah-blah-blah,” I said, swatting him away. “Alastair and I were there beside her when she had to fight off your bratva friends. Don’t use your daughter to guilt me.”

“Again, so many words from our silent Frenchman,” Rose almost laughed.

I rolled my eyes.

Maybe she was better when she was tired and silent.

“I would have thought that you’d be more interested in helping,” Philippa said, leaning on her elbow, and giving me a dashing, deceptive smile.

“Why?”

They talk in circles, always tap dancing like giant, annoying, Circus bears.

“Because we’re taking down Richard Davenport,” Brett said, wiping his nails off on his lapel. “Ever heard of him?”

Well, that made all the difference.