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Kina doesn’t let the man go into the room. She takes the tray, places it on the desk, and hands me a phone.
“I’ll be outside,” she says with a smile.
“Kina, before you go, was there news of the shipyard? Was anyone hurt inside?”
“No. The explosion was minor and mostly to create a distraction. All his trouble was meant for the three of us. Simple extraction operation.”
She’s talking about it casually, as if “simple extraction operation” is an everyday affair. Maybe it is; what do I know?
“I’m happy no one was hurt.”
“Nathaniel Turner’s hired guards aren’t faring so well, but that’s what they had coming.”
“No one died?”
“No, though two of them have a long road to recovery. Ana, it’s a bitter pill to swallow, but last night could not have been better executed. How things unfolded was the best-case scenario under volatile conditions. Bryce and Diego mitigated the risk and avoided casualties. Good as it gets.”
Good as it gets. Jesus, this whole thing is over my head.
Still, I take some comfort in Kina’s casual assessment. What to me was a once-in-a-lifetime shock, seems mundane in the scheme of things to her.
The phone buzzes. Looking down, I see the most recent of about ten notifications from Sergei’s number.
“I need to get this.”
“Of course,” Kina says, leaving me to my privacy.
“Hello, Sergei.”
“Ana! When I see that Kina bodyguard, she’s going to get a piece of my mind. You were in the room and she wouldn’t wake you. Who the fuck does she think she is?!”
“Take it easy. She was following orders.”
“Fucking Bryce,” he mutters.
“Been there, done that,” I say before catching myself.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
I’m surprised by the laughter that bubbles in my chest. How can I find anything funny right now? But I do. Because life goes on, and there’s an older brother to tease.
Speaking of older brothers.
“I have something to tell you. Are you sitting down?”
His voice lowers to a gentler cadence. “Ana, it was traumatic to be kidnapped and rescued. But if Bryce ended that piece of shit, that’s the consequence for anyone who harms you. I’m sorry, but that’s a fact. I would have killed him myself.”
“Hey, slow down there, Rambo. That’s not what I was going to say.”
“OK, then tell me you’re well. That you’re not hurt at all.” His anguish is palpable. Not for the first time, I realize how lucky I am to have the love of a devoted sibling.
Something Nathaniel Turner never had.
“I’m not hurt. Nathaniel Turner never meant to hurt me. He was behind the threats, yes, but—”
“Not hurt you? Do you have amnesia? He kidnapped you!”
“OK, well, yeah. Not the best way to meet,” I venture carefully, because obviously kidnapping is bad. And threats can be scary. All legit reasons to hate Nathaniel. Yet this situation isn’t as simple as a villain pursuing a victim.
