Merc was just as conspicuous, but the double-takes given him were of a different nature. Was it normal to want to trip a woman because she was giving lascivious looks to the man who was technically your captor? Of course, nothing about this scenario could even point to normal, so why worry about it now?
They made their way to the back of the club to the door marked Private – Employees Only. Merc stepped through without hesitation, and with a hand at her elbow, made sure she followed.
The suite of offices looked similar to what she’d seen at the club when she met with Fallon and Laire – utilitarian, but with comfortable furnishings and the occasional pretty piece of artwork to view. As they made their way down the main hall, a tall, rangy man stepped into their path. “Merc my man, didn’t know it was you we were expecting.”
“Didn’t have time to call,” Merc responded. Though the words were pleasant and spoke to at least a past acquaintance, the undertow of tension was palpable, and Amana stepped behind Merc, out of the possible line of fire.
She must have been too obvious in her nervousness because the man smiled at her, giving a small flip of his hands suggestive of the don’t shoot move. “Don’t worry, little lady. Bossman said to escort our guest, so I’m not kicking y’all out.”
“Always dreaming high, Whisper. That’s what I like about you.” But Merc relaxed the smallest bit, which meant Amana could untense those muscles that had gone into flight mode.
Whisper led them into a waiting room, and his hand once again on her elbow, Merc sat her in a chair. A slither of heat sprung from his hand to wind its way down her body and around her waist. What the…? “Stay here,” Merc commanded, then followed the brunet man into another room.
Amana tried to stand, but sure enough, she was held fast. Another bit of magic then. She was going to discover every single thing those tattoos were capable of, including if she could somehow strangle him with his own magic.
She closed her eyes, the boredom of waiting settling down on her as the minutes passed, wishing she could fall asleep on command. It would be a handy skill to have right now, but since she’d spent the last ten years avoiding sleep to the point she dealt with insomnia on a recurring basis, it was probably too much to hope for now.
The lights dimmed, and a man appeared. “Amana?” She jerked back, but he held out a hand. “The Guild sent me. They’ve been looking for you. I’m here to set you free.”
*
Whisper didn’t talk as they would their way through the back rooms, which was fine with Merc. They weren’t exactly friends. More like occasional comrades who wouldn’t try to kill each other outside of the job. It worked for them.
When they arrived at the final door, Whisper gave two quick raps with his knuckles before opening it and motioning Merc to go first. Though letting anyone at his back was foreign, in this case he didn’t have any choice. He needed this meeting.
Rhaum sat behind the impressive wooden monster of a desk. It should have overwhelmed the little person, made him smaller next to it, but as always Rhaum’s height had no influence on the powerful presence the man projected, and the desk, which should have made him look ridiculous, instead became another item that was his right and proper due.
“You’re too hot to be coming here right now, Merc.” That was Rhaum, straight to the point and not caring if you wanted to hear it or not. Whisper was still at his back, and Merc began the various calculations he would need if his leaving needed to happen under less than happy circumstances. “The Guild has put out a price on you and your companion. Do you know how many are now interested, those pieces of shit who otherwise would look right past you? The girl is double the normal bounty. Even if it wasn’t damn good money, if the Guild finds out anyone helped you knowing you were in their sights, they’re going to take it personally. Hells, I should grab you both.”
Funny how Rhaum said it like it wasn’t a possibility, which they both knew it was. Rhaum wasn’t neutral. He worked with all parties, but his only loyalty was to himself. If it was in his best interest, he’d betray someone he’d worked with hundreds of times before. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try.”
“As your compatriot insisted on this meeting, I’m willing to help. It would go a long way toward keeping our relationship in good standing for a little acknowledgement on how much I’m risking here. Say, if you’re not dead by the end of it, I might have a job you could help me with.” And Rhaum held out his hand.
As usual, Rhaum could read any situation perfectly. The handshake would make a magical contract, and Merc wasn’t in any position to negotiate. “I’m happy to do any job that doesn’t conflict with my own feeling of right or wrong.” It was as good as he could do under the Sword of Damocles swinging over his head, but at least it was something.