read no lie in his eyes. He almost allowed himself a breath of relief, but she spoke before he did.
“Would your little fledgling tell the same story if I questioned him?”
Oh, no. She couldn’t be allowed to speak to Jules. She was, unfortunately, anything but stupid. If she talked to Jules, she’d figure out what Ian was up to eventually.
He hoped his fear didn’t show in his eyes. “Probably not,” he said, “if he sensed saying otherwise would get me in trouble.”
“Hmm,” she said with a little pout reminiscent of Gabriel’s. “I suppose I’ll have to make the interview subtle enough that he won’t know which answer would precipitate your death, won’t I?”
If she talked to Jules, he was dead. Simple as that.
“I was looking forward to a nice, quiet evening. Now you’ve gone and spoiled it for me.” She fixed Ian with her coldest stare. “I’m tired of looking at you. And I’m hungry. If you don’t bring me dinner soon, I’ll be most displeased with you.”
He swallowed hard. “I’ll take care of it,” he promised. Go get your own dinner, you fucking bitch, he thought. If she wanted to talk to Jules tonight, then it would happen. Which meant Ian had to get the hell out of Dodge.
He felt a moment of profound relief that he hadn’t pinned all his hopes on Jules. He’d been thinking about and planning his coup for years now, and the notice in the paper about the death of Jules’s son had seemed like it might be a godsend, making his job exponentially easier. But he had a plan B, one Camille hadn’t even begun to guess at.
His other fledglings were younger than he would have liked, but it seemed he had no choice but to step up the time line. If he lost a few fledglings in the process, well, they could be replaced once the city was his.
When next he saw Camille and Gabriel, he would not be helpless.
***
Jules came back to himself with a start and a gasp. The last thing he remembered was standing in that alley in the middle of a mess of a standoff. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and realized he was sitting on the edge of a bed. With his hands tied behind his back and his legs tied at the ankles. Hannah sat Indian-style on the other bed, and Drake hovered in the entryway.
Familiar rage boiled in Jules’s gut, moments away from eruption. He tugged at his bonds. It would take a great burst of strength, but he thought he could break them.
“Drake wanted me to leave the room,” Hannah said. “He said you’re going to have a temper tantrum and get in a fight with him and I might get caught in the middle and get hurt. I told him you were more mature than that. Which one of us do you want to prove right?”
That checked his temper in a hurry. In the entryway, Drake laughed, covering his eyes and shaking his head. Jules made a growling sound deep in his throat, but Drake was too amused to care. And Hannah was grinning from ear to ear, proud of herself for knowing how to defuse him. Jules ground his teeth and shut up before he said something he’d regret.
Drake seemed to be convinced Jules wasn’t going to do anything monumentally stupid and came fully into the room, pulling the chair out from under the writing desk and sitting down. The Killer folded his arms across his chest and rocked back in his chair.
“You can untie me now,” Jules said, looking at Hannah. She hesitated only a moment before hopping onto the bed behind him and loosening his bonds. The brush of her fingers over his wrists made his skin tingle pleasantly.
“What are you doing here?” Jules asked Drake as Hannah worked the knot loose.
“Eli sent me.”
To do what? Jules wondered. Hannah finished untying his hands and laid his crumpled Yves St. Laurent tie on the comforter. He quickly freed his feet from a second of his silk ties, then stared hard at Drake, trying to guess his intent. Drake’s face gave away nothing. Neither spoke, and the stare turned into a silent challenge.
“Ooh,” Hannah
“Would your little fledgling tell the same story if I questioned him?”
Oh, no. She couldn’t be allowed to speak to Jules. She was, unfortunately, anything but stupid. If she talked to Jules, she’d figure out what Ian was up to eventually.
He hoped his fear didn’t show in his eyes. “Probably not,” he said, “if he sensed saying otherwise would get me in trouble.”
“Hmm,” she said with a little pout reminiscent of Gabriel’s. “I suppose I’ll have to make the interview subtle enough that he won’t know which answer would precipitate your death, won’t I?”
If she talked to Jules, he was dead. Simple as that.
“I was looking forward to a nice, quiet evening. Now you’ve gone and spoiled it for me.” She fixed Ian with her coldest stare. “I’m tired of looking at you. And I’m hungry. If you don’t bring me dinner soon, I’ll be most displeased with you.”
He swallowed hard. “I’ll take care of it,” he promised. Go get your own dinner, you fucking bitch, he thought. If she wanted to talk to Jules tonight, then it would happen. Which meant Ian had to get the hell out of Dodge.
He felt a moment of profound relief that he hadn’t pinned all his hopes on Jules. He’d been thinking about and planning his coup for years now, and the notice in the paper about the death of Jules’s son had seemed like it might be a godsend, making his job exponentially easier. But he had a plan B, one Camille hadn’t even begun to guess at.
His other fledglings were younger than he would have liked, but it seemed he had no choice but to step up the time line. If he lost a few fledglings in the process, well, they could be replaced once the city was his.
When next he saw Camille and Gabriel, he would not be helpless.
***
Jules came back to himself with a start and a gasp. The last thing he remembered was standing in that alley in the middle of a mess of a standoff. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and realized he was sitting on the edge of a bed. With his hands tied behind his back and his legs tied at the ankles. Hannah sat Indian-style on the other bed, and Drake hovered in the entryway.
Familiar rage boiled in Jules’s gut, moments away from eruption. He tugged at his bonds. It would take a great burst of strength, but he thought he could break them.
“Drake wanted me to leave the room,” Hannah said. “He said you’re going to have a temper tantrum and get in a fight with him and I might get caught in the middle and get hurt. I told him you were more mature than that. Which one of us do you want to prove right?”
That checked his temper in a hurry. In the entryway, Drake laughed, covering his eyes and shaking his head. Jules made a growling sound deep in his throat, but Drake was too amused to care. And Hannah was grinning from ear to ear, proud of herself for knowing how to defuse him. Jules ground his teeth and shut up before he said something he’d regret.
Drake seemed to be convinced Jules wasn’t going to do anything monumentally stupid and came fully into the room, pulling the chair out from under the writing desk and sitting down. The Killer folded his arms across his chest and rocked back in his chair.
“You can untie me now,” Jules said, looking at Hannah. She hesitated only a moment before hopping onto the bed behind him and loosening his bonds. The brush of her fingers over his wrists made his skin tingle pleasantly.
“What are you doing here?” Jules asked Drake as Hannah worked the knot loose.
“Eli sent me.”
To do what? Jules wondered. Hannah finished untying his hands and laid his crumpled Yves St. Laurent tie on the comforter. He quickly freed his feet from a second of his silk ties, then stared hard at Drake, trying to guess his intent. Drake’s face gave away nothing. Neither spoke, and the stare turned into a silent challenge.
“Ooh,” Hannah
Similar Books
