“Stand down!” the man bellowed, and Jenks jumped. It was shockingly loud and deep, carrying the crack of a whip. I watched, heart pounding until the two men lowered their sights. They didn’t put the guns away, though. I was starting to hate those little hats of theirs.
“Walter Vincent,” the man said, hitting the t’s sharp and crisp.
I glanced at the men behind him, then extended my hand again. “Rachel Morgan,” I said more confidently than I felt. “And this is Jenks, my partner.” This was weird, civilized. Yes, I’ve come to rob you, sir. / How delightful; won’t you have some tea before you do?
The Were before me pursed his lips, his white eyebrows going high. I could see his thoughts jumping and I found myself thinking he had a rugged attractiveness despite his age, and that he was likely going to have someone hurt me. I was a sucker for a smart man, especially when the brains came packaged in a body that was carefully maintained.“Rachel Morgan,” he said, his voice rising and falling in amazement. “I’ve heard of you, if you can believe it. Though Mr. Sparagmos is of the belief that you’re dead.”
My heart gave one hard beat. Nick was here. He was alive. I licked my lips, suddenly nervous. “It was only a bad hair day, but try telling that to the media.” I exhaled, never looking away, knowing I was challenging him but feeling I had to. “I’m not leaving without him.”
Head bobbing, Walter backed up two quick steps. The men behind him had a better shot at me, and my heart found a faster pace. Jenks didn’t move, but I heard his breathing quicken.
“Truer words may never have been spoken,” Walter said. It was a threat, and I didn’t like the complete unconcern in his voice. Jenks moved to stand beside me, and the tension rose.
A small man in fatigues silently came in with a sheet of paper, distracting him. Walter’s eyes slowly slid from me, and my pent-up shudder broke free. My lips pressed together in annoyance that he had gotten to me. Walter stood by the wide window, light spilling in over him and his paper as he squinted at it. While reading, he pointed to the first-aid kit, and silently the man collected it all and left.
“Rachel Morgan, independent runner and equal third holder in Vampiric Charms,” Walter said. “Broke from the I.S. last June and survived?” His attention came back to me. Curiosity high in his rugged, tanned face, he sat in an over-stuffed chair and let the paper fall to the floor. No one picked it up. I glanced at it, seeing a blurry shot of me with my hair all over the place and my lips parted like I was on Brimstone. I frowned, not remembering it being taken.
Walter put an ankle on one knee, and I pulled my gaze up, waiting.
“Only someone very smart or very wealthy survives an I.S. death threat,” he said, thick powerful fingers steepled. “You aren’t smart, seeing as we caught you, and you clearly work for your bread and butter. Being from Cincinnati, you’re logically one of Kalamack’s more attractive sacrificial sheep.”
I took an angry breath, and Jenks caught my elbow, jerking me back. “I don’t work for Trent,” I said, feeling myself warm. “I broke my I.S. contract on my own. He had nothing to do with it, except that I paid for my freedom by almost nailing his ass for trafficking in biodrugs.”
Walter smiled to show me small white teeth. “Says here you had breakfast with him last December after a night on the town.”
My flush of anger turned to one of embarrassment. “I was suffering from hypothermia and he didn’t want to drop me at the hospital or my office.” One would have gotten the law involved, the other my roommate, both to be avoided if one’s name was Kalamack.
“Exactly.” Walter leaned forward, his eyes fixed on mine. “You saved his life.”
Rubbing my fingers into my forehead, I said, “It was a one shot deal. Maybe if I had been thinking I would’ve let him drown, but then I would’ve had to give the ten thousand back.”
Walter was smug as he leaned into his chair by the window, the sun glinting on his white hair. “The question you will answer is how did Kalamack find out about the artifact’s existence, much less that someone knew where it was and where that person is?”
Slowly I sat on the edge of the couch, feeling sick. Jenks moved to the other side of the coffee table, sitting to watch my back, Walter, and the door all at the same time. Male Weres were known to cut females of any species a lot of slack since their hormones guided their thoughts, but eventually logic would kick in and things were going to get nasty. I glanced at the two men by the door, then the plate-glass window. Neither one was a good option. I had nowhere to go.
“I’ve nothing against you,” Walter said, bringing my attention from the possibility of throwing one of them into the glass to break it, thus solving two problems at once. “And I’m willing to let you and your partner go.”
Astonished, I stupidly did nothing when the small man pushed up from his chair in a smooth, very fast motion. The two men by the door were already moving. My breath caught and I stifled a gasp when the compact Were was suddenly on me.
“Rache!” Jenks shouted, and I heard the click of safeties. There was a scuffle that ended with his grunt of pain, but I couldn’t see him. Walter’s face was in the way, calm and calculating, his fingers lightly around my neck, just under my chin. Adrenaline pulsed to make my head hurt. Almost too fast to realize, the older Were had pinned me to the couch.
Heart pounding, I jerked back my first instinct to struggle, though it was hard, really hard. I met his placid brown eyes, and fear struck me. He was so calm, so sure of his dominance. I could smell his aftershave and the rising scent of musk under it as he hung over me, his small but powerful hand under my chin the only place we touched. His pulse was fast and his breathing quick. But his eyes were calm.
I didn’t move, knowing it would trigger an entirely new set of ugliness. Jenks would suffer and then me. As long as I didn’t do anything, neither would Walter. It was a Were mind game, and though it went against all my instincts, I could play it. My fingers, though, were stiff and my arm was tense, ready to jab his solar plexus even if it did get me shot.
“I’m willing to let you go,” he repeated softly, his breath smelling of cinnamon toothpaste and his thick lips hardly moving. “You will return to Kalamack and tell him that it’s mine. He won’t have it. It belongs to me. Damn elf thinks he can rule the world,” he whispered so only I could hear. “It’s our turn. They had their chance.”
My heart pounded and I felt my pulse lift against his fingers. “Looks to me like it belongs to Nick,” I said boldly. And how had he known Trent was an elf?
I took a quick breath of air, jerking when he pushed himself away and was suddenly eight feet back. My gaze shot to Jenks. He had been dragged to the middle of the room, and he now held himself to favor his right leg. He gave me an apologetic look he didn’t owe me, and the two men holding him let go at a small gesture from Walter. The dry blood in Jenks’s his hair was turning a tacky-looking brown, and I forced my eyes from him and back to Walter.
Ruffled, I refused to touch my neck, instead draping my arms over the top of the couch. Inside I was shaking. I didn’t like Weres. Either hit me or back off, but this posturing and threats was useless to me.
Exuding confidence and satisfaction, Walter sat, taking the couch opposite me and mirroring me almost exactly. Clearly the Were wasn’t going to break the silence, so I would. It would cost me points in this inane game, but I wanted to see the end of it before the sun went nova. “I don’t give a damn about your artifact,” I said, voice soft so it wouldn’t shake like my hands were threatening to. “And as far as I know, Trent doesn’t either. I don’t work for him. Intentionally. I’m here for Nick. Now…” I took a slow breath. “…are you going to give him to me, or am I going to have to hurt a few people and take him?”Instead of laughing, Walter’s brow furrowed and he sucked on his teeth. “Kalamack doesn’t know,” he said flatly, making it a statement, not a question. “Why are you here? Why do you care what happens to Sparagmos?”
I pulled my arms from the couch, putting one hand on my hip and the other gesturing in exasperation. “You know, I asked myself that same question just this morning.”
A smile came over the Were, and he glanced to a decorative mirror, presumably two-way. “A rescue of the heart?” he said, and I warmed at the mockery in his voice. “You love him, and he thinks you’re dead. Oh, that’s classic. But it’s stupid enough to be the truth.”
I said nothing, gritting my teeth. Jenks shifted closer, and the sentries adjusted the grip on their weapons.
“Pam?” Walter called, and I wasn’t surprised when a diminutive woman entered, arms swinging confidently, an amulet dangling from her fingers. She was dressed in lightweight cotton capri pants and a matching blouse, her long black hair coming to her mid-back. Defined eyebrows, thick pouty lips, and a delicate facial bone structure gave me the impression of a china doll. A very athletic china doll, I amended when she pointedly dropped the amulet on the coffee table in accusation.
Truth charm, I guessed by the notches on the rim, and I pulled my gaze away from the clatter of it hitting the table. Weres used witch magic more than vamps, and I wondered if it was because they needed the boost of power more than the vamps, or if it was that vamps were so sure of their superiority they felt they didn’t need witch magic to compete with the rest of Inderland.