Beatrice nodded before sliding out the bench to stand. Deva looked at her as she approached and nodded at the couple. The trio came back, Beatrice sat beside her, the woman named Gabrielle in front of her and the man, Lazarus, at the end. The man was gorgeous in a very dangerous way. From experience, by the way he moved, underneath his black shirt and pants was a well-oiled machine, one who had seen war, on the battlefield, or the streets. The blonde woman smiled, but the way she scanned the area told Deva that she was an operative, a lot like Bea. She was married as per the worn golden ring on her finger. He wasn’t. His mercury eyes were set on her, and she suspected, as a test. Powerful men had a tendency, consciously or not, to test people around them. Instead of avoiding the intensity, she let herself fall into it. It had been her way, a long time ago when confronted with people like him. And what she had discovered was once the first punch in the gut had passed, she could draw the power he exuded for herself, helping her to be steadier, stronger and more unyielding to her opponent in that staring contest.
Someone spoke, and Deva was surprised when the man finally blinked and smiled. The darkness that filled him lifted and there was an incredibly handsome man looking back at her. And when he spoke, the low tone of his voice, or was it his British accent, finished to turn her into jelly. Deva guessed that if he couldn’t get what he wanted with his fists, he could seduce it out of anybody. And that alone intrigued her even more, curiosity inching forward to discover why such a man would be in need of her.
“I like her; she will do perfectly.”
The woman named Gabrielle arched an eyebrow at him before shaking her head and extending a hand to Deva. “I’m Gabrielle Thorne. And this is Lazarus King. And just for standing up to this guy, you have my respect. Especially since you had the self-control not to punch him in the face.”
Lazarus looked offended. “I did nothing to warrant your aggressiveness toward me.”
Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “From the moment I met you, I have refrained from hitting you behind the head with a baseball bat. You are lucky I’m a compassionate woman.”
Baffled, the man crossed his arms. “Compassionate? Remind me when exactly?”
“I saved your ass, didn’t I? Even though you were supposed to protect two of the most important people in my life.”
He almost sputtered his answer. “It was a trap. And I did my best to protect them both. If not for me, they would have died.”
Deva bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. Gabrielle had balls, as it was obvious that the tall man sitting beside her could inflict harm in a heartbeat, but she also suspected that the blonde wasn’t a kitten either.
“Are you married to one another?”
Beatrice snickered at the look of utter outrage on both their faces as they looked at her. It was Gabrielle who answered first.
“Hell no! I would be accused of murder within thirty seconds. I would never marry this stick in the mud.”
Lazarus rubbed his eyes. “As if your husband were truly a catch. But we’re digressing here, and I’m sure Miss Landry prefers to know why we’re here than talk about your marriage to that crazy Navy SEAL.”
“My husband is not crazy, watch your mouth, jerk, or should I say tosser? Isn’t the same thing for you, Brit?”
Before Lazarus could reply, Beatrice raised her hands in appeasement. “I think we should talk about why we are here. And then you kids can settle your feud at recess. Lazarus, can you start?”
Lazarus nodded and reigned himself in as he turned to the business at hand. “I asked Beatrice’s help because I can’t go through the usual channels I’m used to. And she assured me that she can trust you. Can I, Deva Landry? Trust you?”
Gone was the lighthearted banter. Lazarus King was asking a very specific question, and if she failed to answer right, her life would be on the line.
“Yes. You can trust me, Mr. King.”
After gazing a long moment in her eyes, he simply nodded, as if seeing the confirmation that he was desperately looking for.
“Please, call me Oz. Let’s begin.”
