Connor (17 page)

"We're all the same. So calling him a genius implies that I'm one too," Colt explained.

"Oh, of course. Well, you are, aren't you? I mean, they made sure you had the best ingredients for your DNA cocktail. Unlike us, who were just given an ordinary human mix with a little panther DNA thrown in to make us breeders." She sniffed.

Allie didn't know Alyssa well enough to work out if she was really miffed or not.

"I think they threw in talent, kindness and beauty in your DNA, Lyss. Or else you won the DNA lottery." Colt kissed her lips tenderly.

It was corny as hell but very sweet, and Allie had the urge to go, "Awww."

Con, who had slid onto the leather lounge next to her, must have seen the thought forming because he grinned. "See, it's in our genes to be romantic."

"Speak for yourself. I didn't get that coding.
Is
there a genetic coding for romance?" Cam was in good form, almost playful. She was starting to think that having the Sons in his life was good for him. He'd been fighting the good fight for too long alone. It had made him isolated and lonely, whether he'd admit to that or not.

"You just haven't met your match, Sunshine. You'll discover a whole other side to your nature when that happens."

"
If
that happens. Let's remember that we have no idea how many of those female fertilised embryos were gestated. Or how many of them survived to adulthood. For all we know, Alice and Alyssa may be the only ones. And that will be fine with me. I don't need the complication. I'm marrying Meredith in May." He didn't bother to hide his shudder of disgust.

"Hang in there, buddy. It won't last forever. When this war is over you'll be free. We all will." Colt looked at Alyssa, as if to reassure her of the same thing.

"Yes, but that
when
is the sticking point, isn't it. Never mind, I know what I have to do and accepted it long ago. Whether it's for just this year or a lifetime, I'll do what's necessary. And if the worst I have to do is fuck Meredith, then I'll be getting off lightly. I'm prepared for far worse."

"Such as?" Allie couldn't help asking, even though she could see it was a sore point.

It took Cam some time before he answered. So long, in fact, that Allie started to wonder if he was ignoring her. "I may have to hurt innocent people to prove myself. I may have to hurt you, my feisty little faux-mistress."

Connor growled. A cold shiver ran down her spine. Would he be forced to offer her up to prove himself to the Board? Surely that wouldn't be allowed to happen. Con wouldn't
let
it happen.

"Enough," exclaimed Colt. "You're torturing yourself about something that's
worst case scenario
stuff only, Cameron. And now you've made Connor and Allie worried about it too."

Cam moodily shook his head and stared into the flames again. He didn't offer an apology or an excuse for planting such concerns.

"Setting her up as a double agent isn't a game. We all know how high the stakes are. If Hall gets suspicious about the intel Alice gives him, he might take her down, or put me in a position where I have to do it. I don't see it as useless worrying; I see it as preparing myself for that
worst case scenario
. And you should all do the same."

Their British Airways flight touched down on time at GAIA mid-afternoon after an eight and a half hour non-stop flight across the Atlantic. Allie would have enjoyed flying Business Class had she not been sick with worry. Ever since Cam had laid out his dire predictions she'd been terrified. If having Con shot hadn't convinced her that this wasn't a game she was playing, then Cam's words would have.

It hadn't helped her nerves any when Hall rang demanding to know what she was doing staying at Cam's place with the bodyguard who was supposed to be dead. She'd told him that the gunshot had caused nothing more than a flesh wound, but she'd made the most of the opportunity to 'nurse' Con at Cam's place so she could improve her chances of seducing her target.

She'd been successful too, she lied confidently. Cam was now her lover. So far, he hadn't shared any information with her, other than to tell her his feelings for Meredith were shallow and politically motivated. As this was what Hall expected to hear, it was safe information to impart. And it would keep him off her back for the short term.

But Hall hadn't been happy that Con was still alive and well enough to join the cruise. She was sure he still had plans to kill her mate. But staying at Cam's had made that difficult, and on the journey to London Gatwick Airport everyone had been vigilant enough to make an attack impossible.

Con was safe for now. But no one was taking any chances. And a more fool-proof plan to safeguard Con needed to be found. During the long flight she thought she might just have come up with one.

If she was to keep Con in her life and this pretence of an affair going, then Con would have to be seen to not care what Allie did. If she could convince Hall that Con liked the idea of all the money Allie was earning playing Mata Hari, then he might be safe. Money was a language that everyone understood, as far as the Guild was concerned. A broke bodyguard might be willing to let his new girlfriend whore herself, if the money was good enough. He might even help her do it. She could argue that keeping Con as her boyfriend would also put Meredith off the scent, too.

So all she had to do was get Con to act like a money-hungry mercenary and she could keep him with her as long as her role as Cam's lover lasted.

Looking over at Con, who had been in a lousy mood since their conference call, she had to wonder how well he'd be able to act such a role. His cat was never far from the surface when she was near. How would he cope with her flirting with Cam and Rothmen in front of him?

As they joined the queue of happy vacationers making their way to the baggage carousels, Allie decided to broach the subject.

"I think I've come up with a way to avoid further threats to your life," she muttered softly, as they strolled along the moving walkway, Colt and Alyssa behind them.

"I'm listenin'," he growled back.

It wasn't a promising response, but it was something.

"What if you were the kind of guy who happily pimped out your new girlfriend for the right price? Hall doesn't know your feelings for me are more than casual. I can tell him you're helping me, in return for a cut of my earnings."

He walked on silently until they reached the carousels. Only then did he nod.

"Sounds like a plan," he said, his accent surfacing, as it always did when he was emotional. "I don't like the complication of having to watch me back, as well as yers, every step o' the way. So I'll do what I need to do."

He frowned and rubbed at his head absently, as if he had a headache. "I've been thinkin' a lot about what Cameron said. He's made me realise just how much danger we're placing yer in. And
I'll
be the one puttin’ yer in the most danger, if I can't control me cat. I hate this. I feckin' hate it!"

She reached out at his impassioned words and tried to calm him. "I know. Don't you think I know that? But you're not making this any easier on me by brooding. Please, we can do this. We both can. Just hold it together, okay?"

He nodded and tried to smile. "Sorry. I guess I haven't been great company lately. I'm only adding to yer problems, aren't I? But, yer see, I've never worked real hard to keep me cat under control before. I've kind o' liked the power o’ lettin' it loose.

"If not for me Irish brothers, I'd never have been able to keep me secret all these years. I just didn't give a damn back then. And in the last year with the Sons I've been able to have some fun with him. Lettin' him play for real. But now, when he's feckin' crazy out of control over yer, I have to rein him in. It's like runnin' a marathon when yer've only ever been trainin' to run the one minute mile. I'm scared witless I won't be able to do it fer long."

She shrugged and grimaced, trying to play down the intensity of his disclosure. "You're not the only one scared shitless. For me, it's not just because of what I have to do, but because you could be taken down at any moment and I might not get a chance to heal you this time. So I have to get that last worry off my plate. This seems to be the best way to do that, long term."

It was his turn to comfort her. His warm hands cupped her face and he looked deep into her eyes. She'd seen their real brown colouring while they stayed at Cam's. It was odd to see him now with the green contacts in again.

"Sorry, I've been a self-centred prick. I'll do better, I promise." He kissed her tenderly and then pulled her under his arm, turning them back to watch the bags rolling by.

Connor hadn't planned to tell Allie about his concerns. She really did have enough on her plate already, as she said. But his usual light-hearted banter had been absent since Cam dropped his bombshell, and he knew she needed to understand why he was being a total prick.

He remembered a conversation he had with Colt back before Alyssa came into their lives. He'd told his partner that Colt fought his instincts too much and that he needed to let the panther rule. But now Connor knew the truth of it. He knew how dangerous that path could be to the people in his life. So his panther could no longer rule. That side of him didn't understand that inappropriately staking his claim could hurt his mate, so the cat had to be kept restrained while Allie did her thing. The trouble was: he wasn't sure he was strong enough to wrestle the powerful beast into submission.

But he'd try. And he'd die before he'd put Allie in danger because of his lack of control.

As they entered the main area of the arrivals terminal they scanned for danger and the airport staff-member Rothmen had arranged to meet them. In a show of incredible and unnecessary ostentation, their host had arranged for a helicopter to take them the short distance from the airport to the harbour at Bridgetown.

Just as they expected, a tall, thin West-Indian man stood among the tour-guides holding up a neatly printed sign saying
Aimes.
They made their way over to the man whose huge white smile grew even bigger at the sight of them. Once the greetings were exchanged, they hurried after the man whose daddy-long-legs carried him along at a fast lope.

The outside temperature was a shock, and Con, who was still acclimated to the British weather, even after more than a year on the West Coast of America, felt as if he were suffocating. Even his American companions were hit by the sweltering heat.

It was winter here, wasn't it? He'd dressed for the warmer climate on the plane but even a tee-shirt and jeans were too much.

But there was no time to grow accustomed to the temperature and the humidity, which had to be at least 90%, because their guide was stalking good-naturedly toward the helipad where two choppers sat waiting.

On cue, the co-pilot of one chopper climbed from the air-conditioned comfort of the interior and opened the back door for them. He helped the girls in and allowed Colt and Connor to climb in after them. Then he stowed their luggage in the back. The relief, once the doors were closed was immediate.

"I thought it was an ambient climate with cooling trade winds," Allie grumbled wiping sweat off her forehead.

The pilot turned around and grinned brightly at them. He too was black and his white teeth were stark against his jet skin. "Welcome to Barbados. I am sorry you find the weather hotter than you expected. It is certainly warmer than usual. Maybe 33 degrees. And the cooling breeze you speak of has dropped because a storm is building. We are in luck. Much later and we would have been grounded. This is not the wet season, but storms here are never to be taken lightly."

The co-pilot jumped into the front seat and put on his earphones.

The pilot indicated the headsets in front of them. "Please put those on. It gets noisy when the rotor begins spinning. I can also communicate with you more effectively by way of the headsets.

Once they had all done as they were told, the pilot turned to face forward again, put on his headset and started the engines. Even with the headphones the din was deafening.

Within seconds they were lifting off, rising smoothly from the concrete pad into the overcast sky.

"I will take the scenic route so that you can appreciate the beauty of our coastline," came the pilot's Bob Marley voice though the headphones. "We still have time before the storm breaks."

So began a remarkable ten minutes of flying time as they followed the white coastline around to the south west, admiring blue ocean and white beaches that could have come straight off a postcard. The chopper leaned to the right and Alyssa excitedly tapped Allie on the shoulder and pointing down at the sea where a school of dolphins were playing just off shore. Their jumps were spectacular even from a distance.

Connor couldn't help thinking of Cooper, envying them this 'holiday' in the sun. And he was determined to enjoy every moment they had before the real work began.

Far too soon the chopper came to rest on a helipad at the end of an artificial breakwater. As the rotor slowed and came to a blissfully silent stop, they removed their headphones and climbed out of the helicopter. While he and Colt gathered the luggage, the girls stared at the row of cruise liners sitting in a row along the breakwater. Closest to them was a much smaller vessel that looked like a baby of one of the bigger crafts.

Another West-Indian man in a crisp white uniform of short-sleeve shirt, shorts and sandals, hurried forward and took one wheelie bag each from Colt and Connor. "Welcome to Barbados. I am your steward, Clive. If you will follow me I will get you settled on the Manacore. Mr Rothmen and family arrived some hours ago, as did most of the other guests. We are only waiting for one more couple from New York."

This man wasn't as fast as their first guide, but he didn't dawdle. Connor thought everything was supposed to be laid back in this part of the world. If not for his cat, he knew he would have been struggling with the exertion in the sweltering heat.

He took a closer look at the sleek, futuristic-looking craft ahead of them. He estimated its length to be at least 180 feet, and it was at least four decks high.

Rothmen had been right. This was no boat. It was a ship.

"The Manacore has dual stabilizers, three passenger decks, only two of which have staterooms. There are twenty outside-only staterooms with either portholes or windows. Your cabins are on the lower deck. The upper deck has only suites."

He led the way up the metal stairs running at an angle up the side of the shiny-white vessel.

"I'd call this huge if it wasn't parked right next to its towering brothers further along the wharf," Allie said to him, craning her neck back to look at the top deck.

"Welcome, welcome," came yet another greeting, this time from their host who was standing at the top of the stairs.

Rothmen glanced at Connor, scowled, and then quickly replaced the expression with a blandly polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I hope your flight was enjoyable. I wish you'd taken my offer and flown over on my private Learjet with us. There was plenty of room."

Alyssa took the extended hand and shook it. "Thank you for the offer, but we were happy to make our own way here. Anyway, you flew out earlier than I was able to make it."

In fact, Alyssa had no pressing appointment which kept her from taking the offer of the Learjet. She simply wanted to reduce the time she had to spend with her host. They had all been in agreement. And Business Class had been more than comfortable enough.

Connor loved how Allie and Alyssa found it so luxurious. The Sons, when they flew commercial, always went Business Class. They were far too big to comfortably fit in economy and the Sons had more than enough money to afford the upgrade. But Alyssa was still new to the whole rich and famous scene, and Allie had never known it, so it was fun seeing their reactions, which had been his own only a year or more ago. It was amazing how fast you adapted to wealth and comfort.

"I'm afraid you will need to undergo a cursory search, not unlike the one you experienced at the airport. My security team can be overly pedantic but they assure me it is for my guests own protection. All electrical devices must be turned over. You won't get reception at sea anyway, and it is a good opportunity to be totally out of contact with the hectic outside. If by any chance you do need to make contact with the world we have shipboard phones with satellite linkups.

"So, again my apologies for any inconvenience. When you're cleared, get settled and then join us at the bar on the sundeck. Your steward will give you directions. We cast off as soon as Morgan Huntington and his wife arrive, which should be in the next hour."