Page 71 of The Devil

I stop walking sliding my hand into my jacket pocket for my wallet. The soldiers react instantly, every single one of them reaching for their concealed weapons, only standing down when their leader, the one at the doors, sees what I’m doing.

Slipping two hundred pounds out of my wallet, I fold the bills over and hand them to Joe. I squeeze his shoulder. “Thanks, Joe. See you next time we’re in town.”

“Sir, yes, of course. Have a, uh, pleasant day.”

I almost laugh. Taking Amal’s hand, I resume our march to the waiting vehicles. A soldier opens each of the back doors.

The one in charge gestures to two men who walk swiftly toward my brother and I. I know what they want and hand one my Glock before he touches me. It’s inappropriate to perform a full search here so I keep the smaller pistol I have strapped to my ankle. It’s come in handy so many times. I’m sure as soon as they’re able, they’ll conduct a proper search and relieve me of it. The man subtly tucks my gun into the waistband of his pants and reaches for Amal’s bag.

“I don’t have anything,” she tells him, holding onto the large bag with both hands. I am guessing her mother’s diary is in there.

The soldier turns to the man in charge who gives a small shake of his head. The man backs away.

I catch my brother’s eye because this is odd behavior. They must know it was Amal who sold the watch. I didn’t expect her to be treated with courtesy.

“Mr. Blackstone, you and your brother are here,” the one in charge says to my brother gesturing for the first car. “Ms. Lombardi, you’ll ride with me.” He gestures to the second vehicle.

“Like hell she will and when you address my wife, you’ll refer to her as Mrs. Blackstone,” I tell the asshole and shove past him toward the second vehicle, not letting go of Amal’s hand until we’re both in it and I’ve closed the door.

I watch Severin slide into the first vehicle, and a soldier gets into the passenger seat. The befuddled man I just told off regains his composure and walks around to get into the passenger seat of our car.

“Will your brother be okay?” Amal asks in a quiet whisper. In the rear-view mirror, I watch the men who disappear into the van behind us as the vehicles drive away from the hotel all in a nice military-like row.

“Sev can handle himself. Don’t worry about him.” I reach over her to pull her seatbelt across her lap and click it into place before doing the same with mine. I see how she clutches the bag to herself. “Diary?” I ask her.

She nods.

“Where are we going?” I ask the man in front.

He turns and smiles almost politely, setting one arm across the back of the bench-style front seat. He glances at Amal, then at me.

“We will drive to Glenrothes where we’ll take a flight to the Isle of Elysium. It’s where The Society is headquartered in Scotland. Well, we have smaller properties throughout each of the cities, of course, but Master Robertson resides on the island most months of the year. He’s most curious to meet Mrs. Blackstone,” he says, making a point of using the name. “And, of course, eager to speak with the Blackstone brothers.”

“I’m sure.” I sit back keeping Amal’s hand in mine as we drive out of the city to the private airport about forty minutes out of town. “My Glock?”

“It will be returned to you upon your departure from the island.”

I don’t stop to think about how we’ll be departing.

Once we arrive at the airport, we’re escorted into a luxurious private jet. Soldiers stand sentry as we take our seats.

The man in charge sits in a chair facing us. He has a grin on his face I’d really like to punch off.

“What’s your name and function?” Severin asks him with his usual authority. The Blackstone’s weren’t nobodies in The Society. At one point we had quite some clout, but that was a long time ago.

“I’m Jameson, personal assistant to Master Robertson.” He reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket and hands Severin a card. He’s not armed from what I can see but I’m sure if it came down to it, he could shoot to kill as easily and precisely as any of the other soldiers.

Sev takes his card, glances at it and sets it aside like he can’t even be bothered to tuck it into his pocket it’s so unimportant. Well done, brother.

“I’ll have a whiskey,” I tell Jameson. “Amal, darling, would you like something to drink?”

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

I see Jameson’s irritation a moment before that smile stretches across his ugly face again. He gestures to an attendant to get me a whiskey. She asks Severin if he’d like something, but Sev gives a dismissive shake of his head.

“Cheers,” I say, once I have a tumbler in hand. I raise my glass to no one in particular and sip the drink.

“Early for that, isn’t it?” Amal asks me quietly.