“Not in those exact words,” Brickham offered. “Not yet, at least.”
Jayd twisted her lips to the point of pain. “How can he think to possess such gall? I was already clear with the prispoul. Brooke backed me up!”
She craved an answer to that less than an explanation about her bigger worry. Why was Brick handling this with the tranquility of a mystic on meth? All right, some of the tubes in his arms were feeding him decent pain inhibitors, but he was speaking coherently—and now, even cocking a lucid grin at her.
“He actually led off by mentioning that fun little reunion you two shared. Something about turning his balls into your arts and crafts project—using my initials?”
She could not tell if he was being admiring or admonishing. The mystery was no help for her irritation. “He was being an utter imbezak. Branding you before he knew you. Taking the news feeds as fact instead of believing me, Jagger, and Oz about—”
“Whoa. Hold up.” His calm countenance was suddenly, violently eclipsed. Though Jayd was used to such ferocity across his bold features, she had only ever watched the storm take over him in stages. This was an alarming tempest. “News feeds? They took the story wide?”
A new gulp thudded down her throat. Damn it. Why had she gone and spouted off without thinking about it? Of course Brick knew naught of the media’s shenanigans over the last few days—and instead of breaking it to him with care, she had become the man’s cardio shock paddle. One glance at the leaping lines on his bedside monitor were awful proof.
“How wide?”
As he asked it, the electric jolts bounced higher.
“Across Europe?”
Then faster.
Jayd’s heart rate lurched the same direction. Her chest was a hollow tympany. Sweat broke out on her forehead. But not once did she consider lying to him. Fifteen minutes into their relationship—friendship, partnership, whatever this was—they had been on the run and trapped in a situation both strange and amazing. A circumstance too dangerous for lies. Further, she had given him one of the rawest forms of her honesty. Her orgasm beneath his fingers. Mere hours after that, she had given him her virginity too.
She regretted none of it. Not even now. She did not hold back from letting Brickham see it either. With a determined snap, she lifted her head to directly meet his troubled gaze.
Then she said, “Across the world.”
She had not a clue of what to expect for his reaction. Though she was not stunned by the continued neutrality of his face, the intensifying bleeps from his monitor conveyed a fuller story.
After another three seconds, they were joined by a loud whump, as a medic raced into the room.
“Creator’s mercy.” The woman’s big green eyes were wide and terrified. The sparkling stud in her nose looked ready to pop free. “What on earth is—oh!” She skidded to a stop and dropped into a curtsy. “Your Highness Jayd. Desonnum beaupek. I had no idea you had arrived in the wing.”
“I am the one with the apologies, Twylah.” She turned, gritting out a smile. “I did not check in with any of you. I was hoping to ease Mr. Brickham’s recovery with a few humorous stories. Seems I might have overdone it a bit.”
“Ermmm…” Twylah sneaked a puzzled glance at Brickham’s thunderous profile as she reset the monitors. “All right, then.”
Jayd grabbed the medic’s hand with a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you for your concern. If we really do need help, I shall hit the call button. But perhaps it is best if you turn off the alarms for now?”
“Of course, Highness.” Twylah’s inflection was friendly but reverent. She was a newer member of the palais medical staff, so she had not yet learned that Jayd and her brothers were only flesh and blood, like everyone else. Jayd started to hope the woman would get it sooner than later, though that depended on just how much later. As lovely as the woman was, the infirmary was not Jayd’s facility of choice for casual afternoon hangouts. As soon as Brickham could be safely moved out of here, she planned on making it happen.
Better plans and higher hopes for a later time.
Definitely after she could properly clean up this mess.
As soon as Twylah was gone, she directed her remorseful grimace to Brickham. “I was not tactful about that. I am very sorry about the bomb.”
She reached over and nestled her hand atop his.
He pulled away at once.
So now they were even on the bombs.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said past tight lips. “Sometimes it’s just good to open the curtains and let the light in.”
The analogy fit. Jayd was speared by emotions that might as well be blinding lights. Frustration and fury. Sadness and helplessness. Weirdly, not even losing her father to Trystan’s bullet had felt this desolate. But in reality, she had only known Louis LaBarre for a few moments. No matter what, she would carry Maximillian Brickham in her soul for a lifetime.
But she refused to let Brick see all that. What good would it do him now? She had better information for him. More useful truths.
“All right, then. Here is more light.” She leaned over, leaving her abandoned hand right where it was. “All three of my brothers believe your side of the story.”
He grunted. “How magnanimous of them.”
“You could say that,” Jayd volleyed, “since they are not men of idle commitments.” She paused, letting her censure set in. It was petty, but he was not giving her much to be magnanimous about. Still, she wanted to pierce something helpful into his stubborn gray matter. “Shiraz has a technical team tearing apart the incident video from the bar, as well as every inch of footage from surveillance cameras across Montmartre. Evrest has already reached out to the Prime Minister of France, proposing a special forces alliance in tracking down Trystan and his soldasks.”
That sparked at least one bolt in his Frankenstein brood. “And that worked?”
She nodded. “Samsyn is also working on some things. He has connections working the Paris underbelly. A number of them have confirmed Trystan was, and still is, allied with some key factions of Le Milieu.”
“The French mob,” Brickham interpreted with a brutal scowl. “Who are comprised of some dangerous motherfuckers. Do they all really know what they’re up against here?”
“Enough to be excited about an alliance to take some of them down.”
“That’s not enough,” he snapped. “These are career criminals. They steal rare jewelry and artwork, not slushies at the Shop-n-Gulp. They’re into extortion and human trafficking. They recruit kids—”
“Brickham.” She matched her command to his, not giving him a choice about the hand clasp anymore. “They are not proposing a cut-and-paste operation on the bonsuns. And Samsyn may have all the polish of a battering ram sometimes, but he knows the subtleties of criminal minds.” She paused and reared back her head. “And why am I bragging about that?”
“Goddammit.” Brick’s expression only got bleaker. “It’d just be easier for him to just turn me back over to the Gendarmerie.”
And exactly why did she think her update would cheer him? Instead, rage swirled up like a fire funnel, singeing every canyon of Jayd’s psyche. She sensed the pressure building, ready to explode all the way out.