Страница 15 из 77
If his frown deepened any more, it looked like it might actually hurt his forehead. "We don't do just bodyguard work, Meredith. We're detectives, too. Why does she need you?"
The unsaid part, when she has us, hung in the air between us. I shrugged. "I don't know, Ethan, truly, I don't. But if you let us inside, we can all find out together."
The frown smoothed slowly away, leaving his face younger, and puzzled. "That's almost... nice of you, Meredith." Then he looked suspicious, as if wondering what I was up to.
"I can be very nice if people give me the chance, Ethan."
Max spoke low so that Ethan couldn't hear him. "And how nice can you be?"
Rhys answered, voice low, "Very, very nice."
The two of them shared one of those masculine laughs that women never seem to be able to participate in, but are always the subject of.
"Is something fu
Max shook his head, as if he didn't trust himself to speak. Rhys actually answered, "Just passing the time of day, Mr. Kane."
"We're not paid to pass the time of day, we're paid to keep our clients safe." He gave a look that somehow took all of us in one big sweep. "We'd be piss-poor bodyguards if we let all of you inside the house, especially armed."
I shook my head. "You know that Doyle won't let me go anywhere without bodyguards, and you also know that they won't give up their guns."
He smiled, an unpleasant smile. "Then you don't get in."
Standing on the hard driveway in my three-inch heels, under the sun that was begi
Ethan tried to yell me down a few times, but I'd had voice training, years of public speaking -- I was louder. None of Ethan's people knew what to do. I wasn't hurting anyone, I was just yelling. Five minutes of confusion and a young woman opened the door. She was Marie, Ms. Reed's personal assistant. Would we like to come inside? Yes, we would. It took another ten minutes to get us through the door because Ethan wanted to take our weapons. It took Marie hinting that Ms. Reed would fire them all, before he backed down.
Max and Rhys were laughing so hard that we had to leave them outside, hanging on to each other like a couple of drunks. At least someone was enjoying themselves.
Chapter 8
Maeve Reed's living room was larger than my entire apartment. Off-white carpet stretched like a vanilla sea down the steps to the sunken living room and a fireplace big enough to roast small elephants. The mantel alone took up most of one white stuccoed wall, with red and tan bricks punctuating the rough whiteness of the wall. A white sectional sofa big enough to seat twenty curved in front of the fireplace. Tan, gold, and white pillows were thrown around artfully. There was a grouping of white chairs with a small pale wood table between them. A chessboard with oversize pieces sat between the two chairs, and a curving Tiffany floor lamp provided a splash of color in the otherwise monochrome room.
A painting to one side of the fireplace echoed the lamp's colors, and a second conversational group of white chairs and cushions was set on the raised edge of the room opposite the entrance. A large white Christmas tree stood in the center of the chairs. The tree was covered in white lights with gold and silver ornaments that should have livened the room but didn't. The tree was just another decoration without life or feeling to it. A table was pushed to one side to make room for the Christmas tree, with what looked like lemonade and iced tea in tall pitchers. A few more paintings were scattered, throughout the room, most of them matching the color scheme of the lamp. The room screamed interior decorator and probably said nothing about Maeve Reed except that she had money and let other people decorate her home. When a person doesn't have a single mismatched thing in a room, down to the last light on the Christmas tree, then it's not real. It's just for show.
Marie was tall, slender, dressed in a sleek oyster-white pantsuit that did not flatter her olive complexion or her short brunette hair. In her high-heeled boots she was a touch over six feet, a tall, smiling, twenty-something. "Ms. Reed will be joining us presently. Would anyone like refreshments?" She motioned toward the table set with tea and lemonade.
Actually, it would have been nice, but it was a rule that you never took any food or drink from a fellow fey until you were sure they meant you no harm. It wasn't poison you had to worry about, but spells, a little potion mixed in with the lemons.
"Thank you... Marie, is it? We're fine," I said.
She smiled, nodded. "Then please sit down. Make yourselves comfortable while I tell Ms. Reed you're here." She moved at a graceful stride down the steps and across to the far opening that led into a white hallway that vanished somewhere deep within the house.
I glanced at Ethan and his two muscle men. He'd left one of his people outside with Max and Rhys. Marie hadn't offered them refreshments, since I guess you didn't have to entertain the hired help. Which begged the question, if we weren't going to be hired help, then what were we going to be? Did Maeve Reed really just want to visit with other high-court sidhe? Would she risk breaking a century of taboo to have small talk? I didn't think so, but I'd seen royals of the high courts do sillier things for less reason.
I went down the steps to the large sectional sofa. Kitto followed me like a shadow. I glanced back at the men. "Come on, boys, let's all sit down and pretend that we like each other." I moved about seven feet from the end of the couch and sat down, adjusting the tan and gold pillows, smoothing my skirt in place.
Kitto curled at my feet, though Goddess knew there were enough couches for everyone. I didn't make him get up, because even through the dark glasses I could see his nervousness. The big white living room seemed to have triggered his agoraphobia. He sat pressed up against my legs, one small arm encircling them like I was his teddy bear.
The men were still standing in the large open archway, eyeing one another.
"Gentlemen," I said, "let's all sit down."
"A good bodyguard doesn't relax on the job," Ethan said.
"You know we aren't a threat to Ms. Reed, Ethan. I don't know who you're supposed to be protecting her from, but it isn't us."
"They may clean up for the press, but I know what they are, Meredith," Ethan said.
"And what would that be?" Doyle's deep voice rumbled through the room, causing echoes in the archway.
Ethan actually jumped.
I had to turn my face away to hide the smile.
"You're Unseelie." Ethan stretched that last word out, made it hiss.
I looked back at them. Doyle stood facing him, his back to me. I couldn't tell what he was thinking; and I probably couldn't have told even if I'd seen his face. Doyle did better blank face than anyone I'd ever met. Frost was standing closer to the unknown muscle man, his face the arrogant mask he wore in court. Even the new muscle was keeping pretty blank, except for a certain nervous flicker around the eyes. But Ethan, Ethan had a fine angry tremble to his hands. He was staring at Doyle as if he hated him.
"You're just jealous, Ethan, jealous that most of the major stars prefer a sidhe warrior at their back instead of you."
"You've bewitched them," he said.
I raised an eyebrow at that. "Me personally?"