“So why are you worried?”
“Some members—I’ve done things, in the past, to the Pack and while I’ve had a change of heart in that regard…”
“The ink on your reprieve is still wet, and you can’t afford to test it yet.”
“Exactly.”
“Which is why you tried persuading Tristan to take care of the body.”
“No, I was trying to divert his attention from you.” He paused. “But yes, admittedly, I had a secondary goal in mind.”
“Okay, so why don’t we look after it now? Take out Tristan’s guard, and we can move the body someplace safer, to dispose of it later, plus we’ll have my gun.”
One side of his mouth twitched. “For an amateur, you’re remarkably good at this sort of thing.”
“It’s in my genes, remember?”
“But I suppose you want the guard disabled, not killed.”
“Preferably. I’m not ready to completely give in to the dark side yet.”
His smile broke through. “Let’s see what we can do then.”
9
I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes, and focused. The guard was a supernatural, probably half-demon. After a moment, I picked up his vibe, but it was too far away to be in the first office, with the body.
“He’s in the second one, isn’t he?” I whispered as Marsten returned. “The room we escaped from.”
Marsten’s brows shot up.
“Supernatural radar comes with my package.”
“Oh? But you didn’t detect me earlier.” He smiled. “Not even when you ran right into me.”
“I did. That’s why I ran into you.” I shook off the urge to explain. “I’m still practicing. The package doesn’t come with a user’s manual.”
“Well, it worked fine this time. He is in the second room. Replacing the vent cover. Cleaning up, it seems.”
“Good, then let’s—”
“I’ll look after him. You stay—”
He caught my expression and breathed the softest sigh. “Just stay clear then. As you said, I’m better equipped for this. Provide backup if you want but—”
“Don’t turn this into a hostage situation.”
“Exactly.”
Marsten started to leave, then wheeled back to me. “He’s coming.”
He held his finger to my lips before I could answer. His eyes narrowed as he tracked the footsteps. A moment passed, then he shoved me in the opposite direction, prodding me to the next adjoining hall. We barely made it around the corner before the guard stepped into the hall we’d vacated.
Marsten pressed me against the wall, still listening, body against mine as if he expected the guard to veer around the corner and open fire.
The footfalls grew softer. The guard was leaving. That would certainly make getting into the office easier.
Marsten started to pull away from me, then froze.
“Was it okay?” a muffled woman’s voice asked. She giggled. “I’m kind of tipsy—”
“It was great, babe.”
Marsten winced as he recognized the privacy-seeking couple from earlier. Guess they’d found what they were looking for.
A door opened less than ten feet away. Marsten swore and looked toward the corner, but it was too late to run—we’d risk being seen by the departing guard. But if we stayed here, the couple would recognize him, and if the man got belligerent again, the guard would hear—
Marsten’s mouth dropped to mine. He pushed me up against the wall, his hands wrapping in my hair and pulling it up to shield the sides of our faces. As he kissed me, I felt a stab of disappointment. His kissing was excellent, of course. Polished and perfect, just like the rest of him. For most women an excellent kisser is cause for celebration. But me? I prefer the ardent gropes and kisses of an enthusiastic, if less experienced, lover.
Behind us, the man laughed. “Looks like we aren’t the only ones looking for a little diversion. There’s an empty office right over there, guys.”
Marsten raised his hand in thanks. The couple moved on. I let the kiss continue for five more seconds, then pulled away.
“They’re gone,” I said.
Marsten frowned, as if surprised—and disappointed—that I’d noticed. I tugged my hair from his hands.
“Okay, coast clear,” I said. “Let’s go.”
He let out a small laugh. “I see I need to brush up on my kissing.”
“No, you have that down pat.”
“She says with all the excitement of a teacher grading a math quiz…”
“A-plus. Now let’s move. Before someone else comes along.”
We reached the office safely. This time, the door was locked, but Tristan hadn’t trigger-spelled it. He must have assumed we wouldn’t come back. The door lock was only for snooping partygoers or privacy-seeking couples.