Chapter 7
Ethan Kane wasn't as tall as he seemed. He actually was about Rhys's height, but always seemed bigger, as if he took up more room in some way that had nothing to do with physical size. His short hair was a dark brunette, almost but not quite black. He wore glasses with no frames, so they were almost invisible on his face. Ethan should have been handsome. He was broad shouldered, athletically built, square jawed, with a deep dimple in his chin. The eyes behind the glasses were long-lashed and hazel. His clothes were tailored to his body so he'd fit in with the stars he usually ran with. He had everything going for him but personality. He always seemed to be disapproving of something; a perpetual sour expression stole all his charm.
He stood with one hand gripping the other wrist, feet wide apart, balanced. He frowned down at us from just outside Maeve Reed's large double doors. We were all standing at the foot of the marble steps that led up to those doors. Ethan's men were ranged among the graceful sweep of white pillars that supported the roof of Maeve Reed's narrow porch. It was huge and imposing, but there was no room to put out chairs and have iced tea on hot summer nights. It was a porch for looking at, not for enjoying.
Four men, obviously hired muscle, ranged on the steps between us and Ethan, and the door. I recognized one of them. Max Corbin was nearing fifty. He'd been a bodyguard in Hollywood most of his adult life. He was an inch shy of six feet and built like a box, all angles, squares, including huge knuckled hands. His grey hair was cut in a long butch cut, which made it look stylish and cutting edge, but Max had had the same haircut for forty years. His nose had been badly broken enough times that it was crooked and just a little squashed. He probably could have traded his designer suit for a nose job and fixed it, but Max thought it made him look tough. It did.
"Hi, Max," I said.
He nodded at me. "Ms. Gentry, or should I say, Princess Meredith?"
"Ms. Gentry is just fine."
He smiled, a quick flash of humor, before Ethan's voice cut across us both, and Max's face went back to blank bodyguard stare. That stare says we see nothing and will remember nothing, and we see everything and will react at the blink of an eye. Your secrets are safe with us, and so is your body. Bodyguards do not work in Hollywood if they get a reputation for tattling to the press, or anyone else.
"What are you doing here, Meredith?"
Ethan and I didn't know each other well enough to use first names, but that was okay, because I was going to do the same to him. "We're here at Ms. Reed's invitation, Ethan. Why are you here?"
He blinked at me, the slightest flexing of shoulders letting me know that something was bothering him, or his shoulder holster didn't fit quite right. "We're Ms. Reed's bodyguards."
I nodded, smiled. "I figured that. You must not have been on the job long."
"What makes you say that?"
I felt the smile widen. "You've got most of your muscle here. If Kane and Hart were all booked up, we'd be getting more referrals."
His frown deepened. "I've got a lot more than just four employees, Meredith, and you know it." He said my name like it was a bad word.
I nodded. I did know it. "Is there a reason you're keeping us out here, Ethan? Ms. Reed was very concerned that we see her today, not tonight, but today." I glanced up at the sun sinking behind a stand of eucalyptus trees near the distant sweep of wall. "It's late afternoon, Ethan. If you keep us out here much longer, it'll be night." It was an exaggeration; we had hours of daylight left, but I was tired of standing around.
"State your business and maybe we'll let you in," Ethan said.
I sighed. I was about to be blunt even for a human being; it was beyond blunt for a fey, but I just didn't care. I wanted to go away someplace quiet and think. Frost was standing a little back and to one side, and Doyle mirrored him, but they both stood so that they were somehow clearly facing off with the bodyguards on the steps. Rhys was standing nearly in front of Max, grinning at him. Max was almost as big a Humphrey Bogart fan as Rhys. They'd spent one long afternoon trapped together on a long bodyguard job, different clients, trading film noir trivia. They'd been friends ever since.
Kitto did not face off with the last bodyguard. He stood just a little behind me, almost but not quite hiding. He looked oddly out of place in his short-shorts, tank top, and child-size Nikes. He'd put on black wraparound sunglasses, but aside from that he could have passed for someone's nephew, the kind that usually isn't a nephew at all but a boy toy. Kitto always managed to give off the vibe that he was subservient, someone's toy, or victim. I had no idea how he'd survived among the goblins.
I looked at everyone facing off, Ethan standing on the steps like some slightly taller version of Napoleon, and shook my head. "Ethan, you want to know why Ms. Reed called us, when she's already hired you. You're wondering if you're all about to be replaced."
He started to protest.
I said, "Ethan, please, save it for someone who cares. I'll save you all the power plays. Ms. Reed hasn't told us exactly why she wants us here, but she wanted to talk to me, not my guards, so I think we're all safe in assuming she doesn't want us for bodyguard duty."
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 funny?" Ethan asked, the sour look back in place, his voice whip sharp.
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 beginning to make sweat bead on my skin, I just didn't want to mess with it. I did probably the most unprofessional thing I've ever done. I started yelling at the top of my voice, "Maeve Reed, Maeve Reed, come out to play. It's Princess Meredith and her entourage." I kept yelling the first part. "Maeve Reed, Maeve Reed, come out to play."
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?"
He made a small angry gesture toward the two warriors. I think it would have been a large angry gesture but he was worried about how Doyle would take it. "They have."
"Ethan, Ethan," another male voice called from across the room. "I've told you before that that is simply not true." I knew at a glance that it was one of the Hart brothers. He was walking down the steps toward me before I was certain it was Julian Hart. Jordon and Julian were identical twins, both with medium brown hair cut very short on the sides and left just a little long on top so that they could gel it into short spikes; very hip, very now. They were both six feet, both handsome enough to model, which they had done briefly in their early twenties to raise startup money for their detective agency. Julian's jacket was a deep burgundy satin over a pair of ordinary, but designer, burgundy-brown, pinstriped pants. He wore shiny black loafers with no socks, so that you got flashes of his tanned feet as he moved gracefully through the room. His eyes were hidden behind yellow tinted glasses that on anyone else would have clashed with the clothes; but on Julian they looked just right.
I started to rise to greet him, but he said, "No, no, my fair Merry, stay seated, I'll come to you." He walked around the couch, eyes flicking to the four men still standing in the archway. "Ethan, darling, I've told you time and again that the sidhe warriors are not doing a thing to attract our business away from us. They are merely more exotic, more beautiful than anything we have on staff." He took my hand and gave it a negligent kiss, before flopping gracefully down beside me, one arm flung across my shoulders so that we sat like a couple.
He spoke back over his shoulder, "You know what Hollywood is like, Ethan. Any star guarded by a warrior is guaranteed publicity. I think some people are making things up just so they can be escorted."
"That has been my experience," Frost said. The unnamed muscle standing closest to him flinched. What stories had Ethan been telling the others about the Unseelie?
"And who wouldn't wish to be accompanied by you, Frost?" Julian said.
Frost just looked at him, grey eyes very still.
Julian laughed and hugged me. "You are the luckiest girl I know, Merry. Are you sure you won't share?"
"How's Adam?"
Julian laughed. "Adam is purrrfectly wonderful." And he laughed again. Adam Kane was Ethan's older brother and Julian's lover. They'd been a couple for at least five years now. When they were in private where they didn't get hostile comments from strangers, they still acted like newlyweds.
Julian fluttered his hand in the air. "Come, gentlemen, come and sit down."
I glanced back. No one had moved. "Doyle and Frost won't move until Ethan and the new man do."
Julian turned around to look at them all. "Frank," Julian said, "our newest recruit." The man was tall, lanky, and looked young -- fresh-faced, wet-behind-the-ears young. He did not look like a Frank. A Cody maybe, or a Josh.
"Nice to meet you, Frank," I said.
Frank looked from me to the still-scowling Ethan; finally he gave a small nod. He looked as if he wasn't sure that being friendly to us would help his chances of staying employed.
"Ethan," Julian said, "all the senior partners discussed your views on the sidhe warriors. You were outvoted." His voice had lost all of that teasing quality and was now low and serious and full of something very like a threat.
I wondered what the threat was. Ethan Kane was one of the founding partners of their firm. Could you fire a founding partner?
"Ethan," Julian said, "sit down." His voice held a note of command I'd never heard before. For just a second I wondered if I'd gotten the wrong twin. Jordon was more likely to turn to force, while Julian was more the joking diplomat. I studied his profile, and, no, the dimple was just a touch deeper at the corner of his mouth, the cheeks a fraction less sculpted. It was Julian. What had been happening behind the scenes of Kane and Hart to put such hardness in his voice?
Whatever it was, it was enough, because Ethan started moving down the steps. Frank followed him. Doyle and Frost watched them for a moment, then slowly followed them around the room. Ethan sat on the section opposite me. Frank sat down like he wasn't sure he was allowed. He placed himself far enough away from Ethan not to crowd him.
Doyle sat on the other side of me opposite Julian. He'd made a point of sitting there and forcing Frost one seat over. He'd murmured, "Meredith needs to concentrate." It hit me suddenly that he'd been calling me Meredith for a little while. I was usually "the princess" or "Princess Meredith," although he'd called me Meredith at the beginning when he first got to L.A. He'd distanced himself with language about the time he distanced himself physically.
Frost was clearly not happy about the seating arrangements, but I doubted that anyone but one of us noticed. The slight stiffness to his shoulders spoke volumes if you knew what book you were reading. I'd spent a lot of time learning to read this book. Doyle knew all his men's moods like any good leader. Kitto might have been oblivious, but it was hard to know what the little goblin noticed and what he didn't.
Julian stayed pressed to my side, a lot closer to me than Doyle was sitting, though he moved his hand to let Doyle's shoulder touch mine. It also put Julian's hand on the back of the couch, touching Doyle's back.
Julian was in love with Adam, I knew that, but I also knew that he wasn't entirely kidding about me sharing my men. Maybe he and Adam had a special arrangement, or maybe no one could be around the sidhe and not wonder. Maybe.
Julian was stiffer, quieter beside me now, as if he were concentrating on not moving his hand too much. Doyle would tolerate the touch, but not if it was too much. Doyle had the same rules for uninvited men as for uninvited women. A thousand years of forced celibacy had made Doyle, and many of the guards, make very unfeylike rules about casual touching. If you couldn't complete the act, then teasing was too much like torture. Rhys had always had different rules, as had Galen: They preferred something to nothing.
Ethan looked at the two guards, his scowl deepening. His eyes flicked to Kitto, and disgust showed on his face.
"What's your problem, Ethan?" I asked.
He blinked and glared at me. "I just don't like monsters, no matter how pretty they are."
Julian took his arm off the couch and sat forward, leaning toward the other man. "Am I going to have to send you home?"
"You're not my father ... or my brother." That last was said with a lot of heat. Did Ethan have a problem with Julian dating his brother?
Julian leaned back a little, his head to one side as though he'd just thought of something new. "We're not going to air our private business in front of anyone, no matter how charming. But if you can't deal with this assignment, then I'll call Adam and the two of you can change jobs. He won't have a problem with Meredith being here."
"He doesn't have a problem with a lot of things," Ethan said, and the heat was very clearly directed toward Julian.
"I'll call Adam and tell him you'll be heading his way." Julian took a small cell phone from an inner jacket pocket.
"I'm in charge of this operation, Julian. You're just here in case we need magical backup."
Julian sighed, gazing at the phone in his hand. "If you're in charge, Ethan, then act like it. Because right now you're embarrassing yourself in front of these good people."
"People?" Ethan stood, doing his best to tower over us. "These aren't people; they're non-humans."
A clear ringing voice came from behind Ethan. "Well, if that's how you feel, Mr. Kane, perhaps I was in error when I employed your agency."
Maeve Reed was standing in the hallway on the edge of the vanilla carpet sea. She didn't look happy.