Allegiance(83)

“Yeah.” Mark took a sip of beer. “She’s a good kid. She got turned when she was twenty, about four or five years ago, and heard about Penton from some people in Atlanta—or heard about Aidan, rather.”

“Is she friends with Fen Patrick?” Robin asked, wrinkling her nose at Nik giving her the look. It translated as information on Fen Patrick isn’t on Mark’s need-to-know list.

“Not in a good way.” Mark smiled. “He kept coming on to her, and she thought he was a sleazebucket. Why? What does he have to do with it?”

“Nothing—just thought I’d seen them together,” Robin said.

Nik pulled Robin’s lasagna container across the table, and she handed him the plastic fork. He needed the nourishment. Using his Touch so often had given him a thin, strained look.

“She came in at the same time as the blonde, right?” Robin asked. “Shawn something?”

“Yeah, Shawn Nicholls, and . . . speak of the devil.” Mark forced a smile to his face. Robin looked up to see Shawn coming in, then leaned her head sideways to read Nik’s watch across the table. It was only 6:32 p.m. The vampire must’ve jumped out of her coffin and sprinted over here.

“Hey, guys, mind if I join you?” She pulled out the chair next to Nik, not waiting for a response, and leaned over to look on the plate. “Lasagna. I’ve heard Glory really knows how to cook.”

Robin started to suggest she take a box home with her and head out now, but she gritted her teeth instead. Hard to talk through gritted teeth. She really needed to develop better manners, or so Nik kept telling her. Besides, he liked Shawn. He was cracking a joke. He was making eye contact. He was batting those long dreamboat, Greek-playboy eyelashes at her. The woman would be a puddle of horny vampire in no time.

He could do better. Robin would tell him later.

“Could I interest any of you in a feed?” Shawn looked hopefully from Nik to Mark and back to Nik. He’d lost enough blood the last two days to feed a hundred vampires, so that wasn’t happening.

“Sure,” Nik said. “Let’s do it.”

Let’s do it? Who was this flirting cad, and what had he done with her best friend?

“Maybe you can speak Greek to me.” Shawn had that kitten thing down.

Speak Greek? Oh, please. Nik had been born in New Orleans. He knew enough Greek to pronounce souvlaki correctly at a restaurant. She was not feeling the love for Shawn Nicholls.

Robin ignored Mark’s smirk and sat with her arms crossed, showing great restraint when Shawn bumped shoulders with Nik and reached out to cover his hand with hers.

Nik flinched. Not an outright startled jump, but a definite flinch. He met Robin’s gaze and frowned, jerking his head slightly toward Shawn the Oblivious, who was chattering about some restaurant she visited while doing a study-abroad program in Athens.

Nik interrupted Shawn but gave her a quick, reassuring smile. “Mark, can you give Robin a ride back to the house? I think Shawn and I are going somewhere more private.”

Robin didn’t like this one bit. Something was wrong.

Nik followed Shawn out but looked back at Robin before closing the door behind them. This look, she didn’t know how to interpret.

Mark finished off his beer and turned to her. “You ready to go, or you want to find something else to eat?”

“I’ll eat when I get back to the house.” She pushed her chair back and stood up. Maybe Nik’s look meant she needed to get hold of the lieutenants as soon as they surfaced for the evening and see if they could figure out what the whole Fen Patrick and jaguar thing meant. “I need to talk to Cage.”





CHAPTER 26

Cage couldn’t wait to get his hands on Fen Patrick. The bloody sonofabitch would wish he’d died back in Nicaragua or that his transition to vampire had been unsuccessful and his maker had left his dead, bloodless body in an alley.

Cage didn’t approve of torture; he’d been on the receiving end of it in Paris, and Fen knew that. He knew it was something Cage could never do, nor would Cage expect it of anyone claiming to be his friend. Fen probably considered Cage’s willingness to give him the benefit of a doubt to be his insurance policy.

Robin watched him from across the living room of Mirren’s community house. She looked worried. He struggled between going to allay her fears and rampaging into the night to find his traitorous, backstabbing acquaintance—but he finally chose peace, for whatever time he could steal it.

When he sat on the floor next to her, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder. His anger didn’t dissipate, but he did take a deep breath and appreciate the comfort she offered. Who’d have thought his fierce little bird would turn out to have such a big heart?