Текст книги "Alien in the Family"

Автор книги: Gini Koch

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

CHAPTER 5

MARTINI RAN HIS HAND THROUGH HIS HAIR and leaned against the wall. “My father figures there’s some kind of issue with succession back on the home world.”

“How so?” White asked. “There were plenty of other children and grandchildren.”

“When you left. Maybe not now.” Martini managed a weak grin in my direction. “You wouldn’t like the succession rules.”

“Male lines, male children only, right?”

“Right.”

“Similar to Earth, Jeff.”

“Only, on Earth, if there is no male child, they’ll allow a female to rule.”

“Not so on the old home world?” I asked White.

“Not so far as we know.”

“And since Christopher’s male, there’s a chance he could be involved in the succession issues.” Martini was so upset he could barely talk. “So they’re coming here. But it’s not to attend the wedding, most likely. At least, that’s not the main goal.”

I got a funny feeling. “What are they coming for, then, Jeff?”

He looked straight at me, and I could tell how much he hated what he had to say to me. “To pass judgment on whether or not you’re appropriate royal marriage material.”

The room went quiet. Then Reader laughed. “So what? You’re not going back there, what do you care what they think of Kitty?”

I looked at the A-Cs and thought about the PPB net. “They wanted you kept here, to the point they put up the barrier. We have no idea of how closely they’re monitoring us. Could be minor, or we could be scrutinized under an A-C microscope daily; again, we don’t know. So that means we don’t know if they can or can’t force Jeff, or Christopher, to do whatever they want.”

Martini nodded. “That’s what my father’s afraid of.”

Chuckie cleared his throat. “Okay, then that makes it official. I’m in charge of Centaurion Division until further notice. Alpha Team will be reporting directly to me, and all activities will have to be approved by me before being put into action.”

A-Cs normally went very quiet when they were thinking. But when they were upset . . . not so much. The room erupted. Everyone was shouting, snarling, arguing. Chuckie ignored it. He leaned over to me. “You want to get them under control? Before I lock them up?”

I looked at Martini and caught his eye. He stopped in midargument with White. I raised my eyebrow. “SHUT UP!” Ah, the Martini bellow—perfect for stopping hysterics, starting avalanches, and causing windows within a mile radius to rattle.

“Thanks,” Chuckie said. “Let me make this clear. You didn’t have a choice in the first place. As the C.I.A. feared, we have hostile visitors from space coming. As the C.I.A. is relieved to learn, our own aliens did not intentionally call them over for a visit. As I see I will have to explain, the best thing in the world for Centaurion Division right now is for all of you lovely people who are unable to lie to be able to admit, truthfully, that you are not the ones giving the orders.”

He and Martini were having a staring contest. They both looked angry, and they both looked as if they weren’t going to back down for hours, if ever.

“Jeff, he’s right.”

Martini didn’t blink or look away from Chuckie. “How so?”

“You can’t lie. We’re about to be invaded, and you, Christopher, Richard, probably Paul, all your families, are all going to be put into compromising positions. We don’t know if this is a legitimate visit or an excuse for invasion. And if you’re put into a position where someone from the home world gives you an order they expect you to take to the rest of the A-C population, the only thing you may be able to use to refuse is the fact that you don’t make the final decisions.”

Chuckie was also still staring Martini down, and he shrugged. “She’s right. You don’t have to like it. But by the original agreements your people signed when the United States government agreed to house you here as displaced refugees, you have to agree, or you have to vacate.”

“We’re not in a state of emergency.”

Chuckie barked a laugh. “Like hell. You said it earlier and even if you hadn’t, it’s obvious. Best case scenario is they come and approve Kitty, and we have to do a massive cover-up. That would make our lives hell, and that would be the easy scenario. But let’s be honest—no one thinks that’s what’s going to happen, least of all you.”

Martini deflated a bit. “Fine. However, once the state of emergency abates, sovereignty reverts back to the Pontifex.”

“Yes.”

“Define, clearly, when the C.I.A. will consider the state of emergency abated.” I wasn’t C.I.A., but I’d been a marketing manager before I’d joined Centaurion, and I knew the dangers of doublespeak better than most.

Chuckie looked away from Martini and grinned at me. “Once all the hostile aliens have left or been subdued.”

“I want it in writing, and I’ll be going over it for loopholes.”

He laughed. “Not a problem.” He looked back at Martini. “Okay?”

“No, but we’ll deal with it. Officially, Centaurion unwillingly concedes the C.I.A.’s limited authority during a time of interworld crisis.”

“And unofficially?” Chuckie sounded supportive, not challenging.

Martini closed his eyes. “Unofficially,” he opened his eyes, “help us. Please.”

Chuckie nodded and stood up. “Unofficially, I may want to marry her, but she wants to marry you. So, yeah, let’s get that taken care of.” He walked over to where Martini was standing. Christopher joined them.

It was always interesting to me to do a physical comparison. Martini was big, well over six feet, broad-shouldered, built like a brick house, rippling muscles without being overdone like a bodybuilder. Of course, I couldn’t see all that right now, but I had his naked body happily memorized. His hair was dark and wavy and his eyes were light brown.

Christopher was a head shorter, smaller all the way around, the lean and wiry kind. Straight, lighter brown hair and green eyes. As Chuckie had mentioned at our high school reunion, Christopher was actually more the type I’d always gone for in school.

Chuckie was like a blend of the two of them. Tall like Martini, but more along Christopher’s build, sinewy and smooth. He moved casually but had the reflexes to make you think he could be part A-C. Dirty blond hair, which would have a bit of a wave in it if he’d let it grow long, and blue eyes.

All of them were good-looking, but though Chuckie was handsome by human standards, only Reader and a couple of other human agents had a shot of passing as an A-C in the looks department, after all.

Normally I enjoyed looking at any of them, Martini in particular. But tonight I got a bad feeling, seeing them standing there together. Martini caught it and looked at me. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. But I think we’d better be prepared for the worst. Whatever that’s going to end up being.”

Before we’d met ACE, Martini had implanted a portion of Christopher’s mother’s consciousness into me. It was only a trace, but I’d liked having it there, liked being able to connect to Terry in times of trouble. ACE had removed it, telling me it was better this way. That bit of Terry was now a part of ACE—but I never got to connect with it any more. I wanted to now, more than ever.

If Terry had still been inside my mind, I’d assume the nameless dread I was feeling was coming from her. Since that couldn’t be, I had to assume what Martini called my feminine intuition was picking up something. Either that or I just needed a nap.

Reader got up and went over to the other three. “Look, how do you want us to get things rolling? Sitting around isn’t getting the troops prepared.”

Same size as Christopher, pretty much. Most gorgeous human I’d ever laid eyes on in the flesh. Our joke was that if he were straight, we’d run off, get married, and forget there were aliens on the Earth.

It occurred to me that I was looking at four men who’d achieved the top levels early in life. Martini was the strongest empath on Earth, and Christopher was the best imageer; Chuckie was the smartest guy in any room, and Reader had been the top international male model for years. There was a lot of drive and talent there, and the rest of us weren’t slouches, either. I relaxed, feeling confident we’d be able to handle whatever was coming.

The dread hit me, harder. I looked over at Paul. He looked sort of glazed. I tried thinking in my mind, the way I had with ACE in the past. ACE, are you there?

Yes, Kitty, ACE is here.

What’s wrong?

Terry wishes ACE to warn Kitty. His mental voice sounded upset. ACE’s prime directive was to protect, but he also knew doing everything for us would destroy us and turn him into a despot. Which meant I had to help him settle this in his consciousness, or he was going to short out and take Paul with him.

ACE, are the A-Cs coming more powerful than you are?

ACE is . . . not sure.

They created you, or at least okayed your creation, didn’t they?

Terry confirms this as so.

Then, that means maybe they are more powerful than you. Or will know weaknesses you have that we don’t know about.

I could feel ACE considering this. That would mean it would be . . . correct . . . for ACE to protect . . . ACE?

Yes, I think so. We should see what’s coming, but I think we all need to be prepared. They’re far more powerful than any of us on Earth.

Yes. Terry says Kitty must be prepared. The test is not for Jeff, it is for Kitty. And Terry knows the royal family will want Kitty to fail.

Great. Okay, thanks, ACE. I’ll do my best. I didn’t want to push ACE for more. It was better to save that for when we might really need it.

ACE knows Kitty will be able to triumph. Kitty thinks right. I saw Paul’s expression shift, and he shuddered a bit.

Martini came over to me. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“For now, yeah.” The dread had subsided, and I was suddenly exhausted. “Jeff, I want to go to the Lair, okay?”

“Okay. Right now?”

“Yeah. Chuckie’s in charge; let him deal with this.” I picked up the Unity Necklace. The dread came back along with a sharp pain. “OUCH!” I dropped it back on the table. Dread disappeared, pain stuck around. Well, one out of two wasn’t bad.

“What?” Martini asked as everyone else spun toward me.

“The stone . . . it burned me.” I showed him my palm. I had a burn mark in the rounded shape of the jewel.

Lorraine came over and pulled a tube out of the small med case she carried with her at all times now. She put something on the burn, and the pain stopped.

“How did it get hot?” Christopher asked.

Michael leaned forward and put his hand on it. “It’s cool to the touch.”

I put my hand toward it again. “I can feel the heat from here.” My hand was a good six inches away. I left it there as the others put their hands on the necklace. It was cool for everyone else, including Martini.

“What in hell is going on?” Martini asked finally.

“I don’t think whoever’s coming likes me.”

CHAPTER 6

WE WERE BACK AT THE LAIR. It was on the fifteenth floor of the Dulce Science Center, and no one went there but Martini and me. Other than what I now called the A-C Elves. I had no idea if there really were elves about, but someone or something did the housekeeping, ensured that the right clothes were there for you, no matter when you showed up or what room you showed up in, and snatched your dirty laundry in the night. I assumed the same elves provided the drinks that appeared in the variety I wanted, anywhere, any time, as long as it was in a fridge of some kind. As of yet, Martini hadn’t shared how this was done. I got the impression he enjoyed the fact I really wanted to know.

I would have loved something stronger than Cherry Coke, but A-Cs were deadly allergic to alcohol, and the last thing I wanted to do was either kill Martini because there was too much alcohol residue in my mouth or have him unable to kiss me.

My hand didn’t hurt much any more, but I was staring at it. I knew better than to tell Martini that his aunt’s consciousness was in ACE. Neither he nor Christopher were really over the trauma of losing her, and that had happened almost twenty-one years ago.

I was cuddled in Martini’s lap, and we had the TV on, watching Love Boat reruns. He loved all the cheesy old shows, and I just wanted to have something on I could pretend to pay attention to. This was the most human room of any A-C location I’d ever seen, and right now it was overwhelmingly comforting.

“Baby, it’ll be okay.” He’d said this about a hundred times. I still didn’t believe it, or believe that he believed it.

“Why did you tell Chuckie he was more of a problem than Christopher?”

“Because he’s a viable alternative who’s already proposed to you, hasn’t married anyone else in the meantime, and isn’t in our bloodline,” Martini growled. “And since he’s ostensibly my superior, it makes him a better catch for you, at least the way the home world hierarchy apparently thinks. According to my father, that actually makes it easier for the royal family to insist that you can’t marry me. I won’t be leaving you at the altar—I’ll merely step aside and let a more appropriate man have you.”

How Emily Post of them. I had no comment to this that wasn’t going to start us off into some kind of fight over things we weren’t going to allow to happen. Besides, I was more stuck on something else. “Royal family?”

“I didn’t know!”

“I know.” I had a thought. “I wonder if Barbara knows.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“No wonder she wanted Doreen to marry you.”

“Like Doreen would enjoy having her hand burned any more than you would?”

I managed to laugh. “No, but I’m sure Barbara wasn’t thinking about anything other than making a great match for her daughter.”

He stroked the back of my neck. “You think I’m a good catch?” I could hear the fear lurking there, just hidden beneath the surface.

I leaned my head against his. “Yes, Jeff. And not because you’re some royal scion or prodigal son or whatever. And not because you’re the head of Centaurion Field and pretty much run everything, either.”

“Why then?”

I nuzzled his ear. “Because you’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re funny, you’re built, and you’re a god in bed. And you’re mine.”

He turned and kissed me. It was deep and strong, and his mouth controlled mine just like always. I felt worry slip away. I didn’t care about anything when he was kissing me other than hoping it wouldn’t stop and that we’d move to making love as fast as possible.

On cue my phone rang. I sighed and dug through my purse to find it. “Hi, Mom, you’re up early.”

“Your only child being the target for unfriendly alien attacks normally warrants rising before dawn.” My mother’s sarcasm knob went well past eleven, and it was on high already.

“How’d you know?”

“Charles called me.” I picked up the unstated comment that Mom wasn’t happy that Chuckie had called instead of me.

“I was waiting for it to be a decent hour,” I lied quickly.

Mom sighed. “Kitten, this isn’t something that we can afford to wait on. You can’t treat an alien invasion the way you’re treating your wedding.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She heaved an even bigger sigh. “Everything’s taking you and Jeff forever. At this point, I counsel running off to Vegas.”

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d approve of that.”

“Would have approved when Charles suggested it all those years ago, would approve at this moment because it’s getting ridiculous.” Chuckie had actually proposed to me twice in my life. I’d just been far too dense to realize it the first time. My density was becoming legendary. The worst part was that I still couldn’t catch when I was being dense, and my nearest and dearest still insisted on not sharing until it was far too late. “You haven’t even confirmed your bridesmaids yet.”

“Um, I’m working on it.” I was. I wanted Amy and Sheila, my best girlfriends from high school, and Caroline, my sorority roommate, and Lorraine and Claudia. The issues were that three of them didn’t know I was marrying an alien, and I had no idea who should be the maid of honor. So I’d stalled the lying and that uncomfortable decision off by having them all sort of on hold. Pathetic, but a great example of my wedding planning skills so far. Growing up I’d spent a lot more time reading Ms. magazine than Modern Bride.

“Work faster.”

“Noted. Mom, our wedding plans aren’t really the issue of the hour. Okay, I mean, they are, but we have bigger issues.”

“Like Jeff being a member of the royal family? Which means we have an entire contingent of exiled royalty here, which bloodline you happen to be marrying into. Your father’s thrilled, by the way.”

I managed not to share that, so far as I could tell, he was the only one. “Other issues.” I was reaching, but I wanted off the wedding and royal family conversation train.

“Like Reynolds being in charge,” Martini muttered.

I leaped on that one. “Yeah, Mom, why did you put Chuckie in charge of Centaurion?”

She barked a laugh. “Because I want the only C.I.A. big shot I can trust in charge. It helps that he’s brilliant, understands you intimately, and also understands the A-Cs perfectly.”

I wondered if Martini could pick up emotions through the phone, and I also wondered what my mother’s were at this time. My parents loved Martini and felt he was a good match for me. But Mom had shoved me at Christopher and apparently was still holding a torch for the idea of me and Chuckie as a couple. It wasn’t really like her to keep on once my decision had been firmly made. I got the impression Mom really wanted me to be positive I wanted to marry Martini because she was worried about more than whether I’d really picked the guy who was right for the long haul.

Of course, Chuckie’s family were humans who adored me. Though Martini’s parents seemed to sort of like or at least tolerate me. Now. Chuckie’s family also weren’t invading from another planet to pass judgment on me. Maybe Mom had a point. Maybe the invading aliens had a point—I wasn’t exactly Princess Diana material. I did my best to think about flowers so I didn’t give Martini any emotional signals.

“Okay, fine. What are we supposed to do, though?”

“Do? Figure out what’s coming and how to stop it while listening to Charles and not getting yourselves killed.” Mom didn’t add the “duh” in there, but it was clear that she’d just exercised impressive self-restraint.

“Duly noted. We have to listen to Chuckie?” I wasn’t the one who had problems listening to Chuckie, of course, but I felt I had to represent Martini’s interests here.

“Yes. Unless you resign and all the A-Cs leave the planet. Let me mention that I don’t think that’s a viable option for anyone, nor is it the option I, personally, think anyone should exercise.”

“Good to know. Any other words of wisdom?”

“Please God find a decent wedding dress soon, so the rest of us can figure out what we’re going to be wearing.”

“Thanks for focusing on the big picture, Mom.”

“Any time, kitten. Love you and love to Jeff.”

“Love you, too, Mom, and same to Dad.” We hung up, and I felt exhausted again. “Normally talking to my mother doesn’t make me want to sleep for a week.”

“Your body’s responding to stress,” Martini said, as he stood us up, still holding me, in one fluid motion. A-Cs were super strong as well as super fast. He carried me into the bedroom. “You want to talk about the situation, plan the wedding, or go to bed?”

I didn’t have to give this one much consideration. “Bed.”

Martini chuckled. “I meant to sleep.” Martini’s other super skills were empathic and bedroom. He said lust was an easy emotion to pick up, particularly mine. Then again, it was an easy guess, because I was always lusting after him.

“Oh, so did I. You know . . . after.”

Martini grinned. “I love how you focus on the priorities.”

CHAPTER 7

AFTER AN IMPRESSIVE SEXUAL DISPLAY for a normal human, but what was bedroom business as usual for Martini, we fell asleep. I woke up hours later, his arms tight around me. I nuzzled into his chest, and he gave a sleepy growl.

I estimated we’d fallen asleep an hour or so after dawn. It was still daylight—the internal lighting was on full. But I had no guess as to what time it really might be.

Before either one of us was fully awake, a voice came through the intercom. “Commanders Martini and Katt, Supreme Commander Reynolds requests your presence at a briefing.”

“Supreme Commander?” Martini sounded wide awake. “Gladys, what the hell?”

“He knows you well. Mister Reynolds said that would probably wake you. And to tell you he’s kidding, about the title, not the briefing.”

“Hilarious guy. Remind me to punch him when we get to the briefing. Fine, Gladys, please tell Mister Power Mad we’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“An hour,” I shouted. “At least an hour.”

“I’ll pass that along, Commander Katt.”

“Thanks, Gladys.” The com went dead.

“You know, I hated Reynolds enough before I found out he was interested in marrying you. This is going to be sheer hell, having to take orders from him.”

“He’s just got an interesting sense of humor.” I sat up and stretched.

“Mmmm, do that some more.” Martini stroked my breasts.

“Oh . . . Jeff . . . we have to . . . get dressed . . .” My voice trailed off as he moved his mouth to help his hands with the work of sending me to orgasm heaven.

In light of our upcoming briefing session, he used the speedy approach. I was yowling like a cat in heat, my standard reaction, within a minute and climaxing within the usual two. Martini looked extremely pleased with himself as he got out of bed, picked me up, and headed us into the shower.

I was always in the Happy Place if we were showering together. Somehow, we managed to fit in another couple of screaming orgasms before we cleaned up and got out. Royal family be damned—they were not going to prevent me from showering with Martini on an at least once-daily basis, certainly not without a huge fight from me.

I decided not to put on the Armani fatigues today. I chose a pair of jeans, my Converse, and, in light of the impending state of emergency, the Aerosmith shirt I’d worn during Operation Fugly. I figured a little nostalgia couldn’t hurt.

Martini was in, of course, the standard Armani issue. In the year we’d been together I’d gotten him into something else only a few times. He’d been willing to be casual during the day when we’d gone to Cabo—of course, most of the days in Cabo we’d been in swimsuits or naked in our private cabana. But at night he’d adapted the suit to wherever we were going.

Otherwise, I’d gotten him into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt exactly twice since then. I’d almost given up—A-Cs really loved their formality and their Armani. I’d resorted to haunting the Armani website to see if there might be anything in upcoming collections Martini would consent to wear. As of yet, no luck, but I’d certainly learned more about fashion trends and gotten some great ideas for my wedding dress, which was, as my mother had so nicely pointed out, as of yet, neither picked out nor ordered. We were six weeks away from our wedding, but I wasn’t worried. I was panicked. But something, like horrible space visitors, always kept popping up.

We left the Lair and got into the elevator. The one incident with Christopher in here had pretty much been wiped out of my clear memory by Martini’s ravaging me in it shortly afterward. I normally loved being in an elevator with him—it was always a toss-up as to whether he’d stop it and we’d see how often I could climax, or he’d at least ravage my mouth to the point where a climax was a strong possibility.

We went with the latter today. I hated having to be someplace on time, it took away so many potential orgasms.

We reached the launch area, which was the top of the Science Center. There were the usual personnel milling about doing things I still, after a year, didn’t understand or try to learn about. I was dedicated that way.

All of Airborne was waiting for us. Tim, who was our official driver, my five Top Gun pilots—Jerry, Hughes, Walker, Joe Billings, and Randy Muir—and Claudia and Lorraine, our medical. Randy and Joe were their boyfriends, and the four of them looked particularly worried. I could understand that. Martini and I were pretty much going to be the test case for interspecies marriages. It was how White had gotten around the older A-Cs totally freaking out. If all went well for the two of us, then more couples would be allowed to do their counseling with the Pontifex and, of all people, my mother, then walk on down the aisle to wedded bliss.

Tim was the only one of our team not dating an A-C. He was dating Alicia, whom we’d met during the fun trip where we’d all almost died about ten times, good old Operation Drug Addict. She worked for the airlines and thought we were all part of the P.T.C.U. She was doing great with keeping that a secret, and we figured one day we might be able to tell her the truth. Jerry, Hughes, and Walker were playing the A-C field—there were so many Dazzlers to choose from, and my flyboys were the ultimate combo—all great looking by human standards and all really, really smart.

“Everyone ready?” Martini asked. “Wouldn’t want to keep Mister C.I.A. waiting.” The guys all grimaced. Claudia and Lorraine just rolled their eyes.

Something I hadn’t considered for a while occurred to me, but now wasn’t the time to ask the girls why Chuckie—who was tall, handsome, rich, human, and beyond brilliant—wasn’t right after Hawking on the Dazzler Wish List.

“We really have to take direction from Reynolds?” Tim asked.

“Presumably,” Martini growled, and I flipped my mind onto flowers while I tried to determine if he was growling because of the mere mention of Chuckie’s name or if Martini had picked up that I was thinking nice things about Chuckie. Then again, he was an empath, not a mind reader. I relaxed.

“Chuckie’s not that bad. And we need his help right now. So, yeah.”

“Kitty won’t,” Jerry said with a grin. “She’ll pretend to, but she’ll do what she wants.”

The entire team nodded. I felt a little embarrassed.

Martini laughed. “Too true.”

“Chuckie knows me pretty well,” I muttered.

“Yeah? Then how’d he let you shove him through the gate when Reid had you two cornered?”

He had a point. And Chuckie wasn’t empathic. Okay, we were good.

My cell phone rang, and I dug it out of my purse. “Hi, Christopher, what’s up?”

“Oh, we’re just wondering when Airborne’s going to grace us with their presence. And Jeff. The rest of Alpha’s sitting here, taking bets on when Reynolds loses his cool and starts screaming about how late you are.”

“Chuckie doesn’t lose his cool.” This was true. He’d had a lot of reasons to in high school, when he’d been short, ravaged by acne, and a total geek-nerd combo. He’d never lost it when people had picked on him, though I had. He’d always told me success was the best revenge. Becoming a multimillionaire twice over before he was twenty-five and now running the C.I.A.’s ET Division qualified as overwhelmingly successful in my book. I was, as always, so proud of him.

“I hate it when you think about him,” Martini muttered to me.

Focused on the stupid flowers again. They didn’t seem to be working. Maybe I should try trees. “Be there as soon as we get through the gate. By the way, where is ‘there,’ exactly?”

Christopher sighed. “You don’t know?”

“No. See, if I knew, I wouldn’t have asked. It’s my crazy little way.”

“Crazy is the accurate description for you. And, apparently, Reynolds. We’re not in any of our bases.”

“Um, why not?” I looked around. All of Airborne seemed confused. I looked up at Martini. “They’re not at a base.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Oh? Where the hell are we going, then?”

“Jeff has no clue either. Want to share, or do you secretly like hanging with Chuckie waiting for the rest of us?”

Christopher sighed. “We’re in Las Vegas.”

“Come again?”

“Vegas. We’re in freaking Las Vegas. Reynolds is cracking up, by the way.”

I was sure he was. Chuckie had a wicked sense of humor. And he and I had spent a wild week in Vegas when Circle-K had bought out his chain of convenience stores for the first of those multimillions. That was when he’d suggested we get married, the first time, but I’d thought he was kidding. He hadn’t been, as I’d discovered six months ago, when he suggested it the second time. Before my week with Martini in Cabo, Vegas with Chuckie had been the best vacation, and sex, of my life. And Chuckie would enjoy tormenting Martini, and apparently Christopher, with this knowledge.

“Let me guess . . . you’re in the Mandalay Bay somewhere.”

“Oh, you’re good. Yeah, top floor of THEhotel.”

“Not the Four Seasons?” Which didn’t surprise me at all that much. Chuckie preferred sleek to grandiose.

“Reynolds says he knows you’ll like THEhotel better.” I could hear how annoyed this was making Christopher.

“He’s right. We’ll be there as soon as the gate’s calibrated. At least the Vegas bathrooms are clean.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want anything to keep you from spending your money quicker.”

“You don’t like gambling?” I loved it.

“We gamble our lives every day. Gambling money seems anticlimactic.” Christopher had a point.

“Well, whatever, be there shortly.” I hung up. I looked around at the team. I couldn’t help it—I was sort of excited.

“Well?” Martini asked. “Are we heading where it sounded like we’re heading?”

“Oh, yeah. We’re going to Vegas, baby!”