Rook stalled mid-breath.
Coll’s gaze sharpened. “Oh?”
Sighing with disgust, Rook strode toward the window. From up here everything looked so serene and quiet. The waves were soft, seagulls silent. The younger sister would be a constant jangling clamor in his head—too much color, too much noise.
But Jordan?
She’d be quieter on his edges. And in turn he could make sure the transition went as smoothly as possible for her. She deserved that much, at least.
Chimera wanted recruits to join them willingly. To choose Chimera in spite of the upheaval it would bring to their lives. Which is why each recruit was assigned an agent responsible for mentoring him or her.
“You take the younger one,” Rook said. “Time you did some real work anyway.”
He didn’t check Coll’s reaction, just watched the waves far below lap against the moored boats and thought how each subtle ocean rise was a better measure of time than the harsh ticks of a clock.
“I guess I’ll take the younger one.” Coll’s tone had gone circumspect again. Couldn’t be helped; caution was warranted when it came to Rook. “What’s your first move?”
The usual. “Build a profile and wait for her to sleep.” He paused for a second, then gave in to the worst. “Use the sister as motivation.”
***
“I’ll see her again today,” Vince said into his mobile as he pulled his suit jacket off a hanger in the hotel room’s closet.
This was a fiasco. Unnecessary. Ego-driven. Bad business.
On the other line, his father grunted the approval Vince had long since stopped needing. “Used the Blackman charm, eh? Had her falling at your feet? You dog, you.”
Dad was desperate. They both knew it.
“I know how girls like her work,” Vince said.
Jordan Lane had been nice. Very pretty. In another life, Vince would have been happy to date her. It’d be a challenge to get her to unwind a little. Fun to do it in Rêve.
But he didn’t need her to unwind. He needed her cooperation. He needed her life. The sister they already had a line on. So said the very bad man with whom his father had gotten into business. Dad’s ego had made a deal, and it was the son who now had to deliver.
Vince hadn’t even remembered Jordan, though apparently she’d once pitched to him. How they had discovered the connection was impressive.
Win the girl over. Bring her in. If she had half the talent her sister supposedly had, she was well worth the trouble.
They were watching.
He hated putting Jordan in his father’s hot seat. Wasn’t right. Wasn’t fair. His dad should’ve chosen jail over a convenient bailout from them. When this was over, Vince was finished with him. This was the last time he would clean up one of his father’s messes.
“They treating you well?” Vince asked.
Dad rolled out his goodtime chuckle. “I get whatever I want.”
Sure he did. They’d been very clear about the stakes: His dad would get a bullet to the brain if Vince didn’t come through.
***
The phone on her desk rang, startling Jordan out of her reverie. While she’d been in a daze, her laptop screen had gone blank. She hit the pad to wake it, while reaching for the phone and squeezing her eyes to get her mind to focus. “Jordan here.”
Ten forty-five a.m. She’d been out of it for over an hour. Hadn’t slept since the Rêve Saturday night and didn’t even know if that kind of sleep counted.
Side effects, check: Distraction and insomnia, topped with fatigue.
And in spite of that, in spite of the mess Maze was in, she couldn’t wait to get back again. Rêve—how she felt there—was everything she’d never known she wanted. It was as if everything about her was alive and alert and clear. No second-guessing. She’d felt strong.
So, yeah, she might’ve already scoured the Web to find a mention of any available venue, first in California, then anywhere on the West Coast. Finding nothing—nothing?—she went onto the U.S. registry and put herself on the waiting list for the Agora, which comprised the network of legal American Rêve venues.
Could be months.
On the line, the receptionist said, “Your appointment is waiting in the conference room.”
What? She pawed her laptop to pull up her schedule. No, nothing today.
Except lunch with Vince Blackman. Ten forty-five was a little early in the day to be stepping out, but she was sure Maria would be fine with it. His account would be huge for the company. And now they were friends.
She remembered his arm snug around her shoulders, his other around Maze’s, as the three of them had stared out from the rim of the volcano into the forever stars. And then he’d called her on Sunday to set a lunch date for today. Couldn’t wait to see her again.