Despite everything, Adam grinned at the phone. “We didn’t swear in my day,” he lied. “We just killed people.”
“There is that,” said Ben. “What can I do? Samuel says he can head to Prague, but it will take him a couple of days to get there. Apparently he’s in Africa.”
“I thought he and Ariana were in the UK?” Adam said.
“He said he was doing a favor for an old friend,” Ben said. “Medical, I think, and not werewolf or fae business. They’re not in a civilized area, and it will take a day to hike out.”
Adam thought about that. “Tell Samuel no. It sounds like the crisis is mostly over. Does Charles have a way for me to contact Libor?” Trouble between the Prague Alpha and Bran or not, the vampires were a real threat. Though he, like Larry, thought he’d convinced Bonarata that killing Mercy would be a mistake. Still, he’d be happier to put Mercy with allies just in case.
“I can get that,” Ben promised. “I’ll text it to you in the next fifteen minutes. That work?”
“That works,” he said.
He ended the call and paced restlessly, waiting for Ben’s text message. Eventually, he put clothes on.
As soon as Ben sent over the information, Adam called the Alpha of the Vltava Pack, the Alpha of Prague. It took a few minutes to get Libor on the phone, which was only to be expected. Adam happened to pace by a mirror as he was waiting and stopped when he noticed that his eyes were bright gold.
It would be a mistake to let his wolf do the negotiations with another Alpha. He practiced the breathing exercises he’d learned to help his control. By the time Libor came to the phone, he was under control.
It took a while to negotiate a language to speak in. Libor pretended not to speak English because English was Adam’s native tongue. They both spoke Russian, but Libor still held a grudge against the Russians. German was out of the question for the same reason—for which Adam was grateful because his German wasn’t good enough for delicate negotiations.
Finally, Adam said, in English, “Look. I’m an American; you’re lucky I have two languages I’m fluent in. We can do this in English or Russian, or I can find a translator. That will complicate things worse than they already are, especially since, where I am, the most likely translator I can find will be a vampire.” He could do basic Vietnamese and Mandarin, but he bet that neither of those were in Libor’s repertoire. And Adam hadn’t used either language in several decades.
“Russian,” conceded Libor without pause. He’d probably already come to the same conclusion Adam had voiced, but he’d waited for Adam to point out his inadequacies.
That was fair, because it was Adam who was going to ask for a favor.
Ben had said that Libor was a man of his word, but he was as slippery as a Gray Lord. Adam preferred to work with straightforward people, even if they were enemies, instead of subtle, slippery allies. But that wasn’t his choice to make at this point. Bonarata and Mercy between them had brought him to this pass.
That didn’t mean Adam needed to follow Libor’s game. Instead of working up to what he wanted, he just said, “My mate is in Prague by herself on the run from Bonarata, with whom I am currently in negotiations. She needs a safe place to await help. I should be able to be there—”
An hour, said the wolf. Probably two. We could fly to her in a couple of hours.
Adam closed his eyes and forced himself to remember that two of his people were currently vulnerable until nightfall. That he was in negotiations with Bonarata, which were not going to benefit from a hasty departure. Those negotiations were necessary to keep his family and his people safe. Bonarata and Adam still hadn’t come to any kind of agreement about the situation, whatever it really was, that had made Bonarata decide to take a shot over the bow at Mercy.
He wasn’t going to see Mercy today. Not today.
“Early tomorrow morning at the latest,” he said.
“You lost your mate?” said Libor in an amused voice.
Across the room, the mirror showed gold flooding Adam’s eyes, and he bit back a growl.
“I know exactly where she is,” Adam said carefully. “I will come for her shortly. It would be useful to have a quiet place for her to rest until I can come.” There. He’d backed down from “need” to “it would be useful to.”
“I need more detail than what you have given me,” Libor said. “I have to protect my pack first.”
So Adam went through the whole scenario from the moment the vampires had hit Mercy in his car right up to their current situation. Edited, but still most of the story.
“I see,” said Libor, when Adam had finished. There was a long silence, presumably as Libor weighed what Adam had told him. Then he said, “You managed to let your mate get kidnapped by the most ruthless vampire on the planet, and now you need my help.”
Yes. That “need” had been a mistake. Hard to judge words when he wasn’t face-to-face with the other werewolf. If it had been Bran he’d been talking to, “need” would have been the key word. Bran didn’t turn away werewolves who needed him.
Libor had just downgraded himself in Adam’s book of evaluation. But Adam hadn’t spent his formative years in the Army Rangers for nothing: he knew how to manipulate arrogant asses even better than he could manipulate competent commanders—the former having been much more common in his experience than the latter.
“If you are afraid of the vampires,” Adam said, “I understand. Mercy can take care of herself just fine.” He fiercely believed that. It was the only reason he was still here, doing his duty and protecting those who’d trusted him enough to follow him into the den of the boogeyman of the vampires, instead of grabbing one of the pilots and making a beeline for Prague. “She got away from Bonarata with nothing more than her brains and determination. She won’t have any trouble surviving your streets for a day. I’m not so sure if your streets will survive, though.”
He thought of Marsilia’s rubbing Mercy’s escape in Bonarata’s face and said, “My mate hit Bonarata’s pet werewolf with a bus. I wonder what she’ll do to your territory on her own?”
The other werewolf growled and bit out, “I do not fear the vampires. Bonarata was a child when I was an old, old wolf, and his territory is far from here. Very well, we will protect her from Bonarata’s vampires until you come for her. Where shall I find your mate?”
“Mercy will find you,” Adam said, satisfied at having goaded the other into defending himself. They were both aware that whatever the limits of Bonarata’s territory, his fingers were in the business of every town in Europe. Libor’s words were hollow, and they both knew it. Anyone within a thousand miles of Bonarata should feel a healthy amount of fear. But Adam chose to be conciliatory. “I appreciate your aid in this situation.”
Libor disconnected without further words.
Adam stared at the phone. For two cents, he’d drop everything and go find Mercy. Now.
Mercy could take care of herself. She’d survived just fine before he’d married her. Afterward, both he and she had done all that they could to ensure that continued to be true. He could trust her to take care of herself. But when he started to make another call, he knew the wolf was in his eyes again. He didn’t bother trying to calm down.
“David,” he said as soon as the other side of the phone call was picked up. “I need to land a private jet in or very near Prague. Do you know somewhere I can do that?”
David Christiansen, the werewolf on the other side of the conversation, was a mercenary with contacts all over the world. He was also one of Adam’s oldest friends.
“How are you, Adam?” David said with mock cheer. “It’s good to talk to you. Even ‘hi, hello, how’s it going’ would have been okay.”
“Mercy’s loose in Prague. I’m in Milan, and I need to get to Prague tomorrow morning. Very early. Money is no problem, but if the price is too high, we might need to wire some.�
�
David wasn’t stupid. He heard “Milan” and that Mercy and Adam were separated. He added those two together and came up with Bonarata because he said, “Messing in vampire business isn’t for wusses. Try to look unimportant, Sarge; maybe they’ll be low on ammo.”
“Too late,” Adam said with an involuntary grin. He hadn’t heard that phrase since ’Nam, when officers were favorite targets of the enemy. “But there aren’t any bullets flying right now.” In the background, he could hear the scratch scratch as David wrote something on a piece of paper.
“What kind of plane?”
Adam gave him the specs, and David wrote those down, too.
“Give me a minute, my people are on it,” David said. “If you kill that old bastard in Milan, I’ll treat you to the biggest steak in Chicago. Or Seattle, if you don’t want to come my way.”
“Doesn’t look like murdering vampires is in my near future,” admitted Adam. “Much as I’d enjoy it.”
David murmured something to someone else, then was back on the phone. “Got it. Do you have something to write with or do you want me to text you?”
“Text me,” said Adam. “Thanks.”
“I still owe you, I figure,” David responded. “Do you need some backup? I can be in Prague with a crew or two in about seventeen hours.”
Adam considered it. But if the people he had with him weren’t enough, he reckoned he’d need a nuclear strike and not more people to die trying to rescue him and Mercy.
“I think it’s handled,” he said. Though he’d have been happier if Libor had been the same kind of polite liar that Bonarata was—odd that he trusted the vampire further than his own kind. But he’d met Bonarata, and he figured he had his measure. No telling whether Libor was just being a pain for the sake of annoyance—or if he was a problem.
“Let me know if that changes,” said David. “Keep your head down.”
“You, too.”
They disconnected, and Adam was left with a whole day to get through and nothing to do. Sleeping was out of the question.
Honey was awake and watching him. She’d have heard everything. She wagged her tail and smiled hopefully.
Adam ran his hands through his hair. “Right. This is good news. Mercy is safe. I’m pretty sure Bonarata believed me about Bran—and put a call out to his hunters before he went down for the day. He isn’t interested in the kind of war Bran would bring him.” The kind where everyone loses. He smiled at Honey, because he knew she’d understand. “It’s just that now that I know where she is, I’m not sure I can find the patience to wait. And talk and talk and talk without killing someone.”
Honey’s ears flattened with amused agreement. She wasn’t fond of talk and talk and talk, either.
“I’m going to go notify the pilots that we’re flying to Prague before morning tomorrow,” Adam said, because it would give him something to do besides pace restlessly. He’d wake them up when they should be getting sleep—but he was paying them enough money that he didn’t feel too bad about that.
“Stay alert,” he told Honey.
She put her nose down on the couch and watched as he put his shoulder holster back on and resettled his suit. He took a good look at himself in the mirror to check for wrinkles, lopsided tie, or the gun printing too obviously.
Satisfied that he was as put together as he was likely to get, he left the room. He couldn’t lock it behind him without locking himself out—they hadn’t been issued keys. He opened the door again and looked at Honey.
“Remember the door won’t be locked until I get back. Keep an ear out,” he said.
Then he left his chicks safe in her care. His mouth turned up as he thought about what any of the people in that suite would think of his considering them in need of his care. Except for Elizaveta, of course—she would accept his concern as her due, if only a small part of her considerable defenses.
Adam climbed briskly up the hardwood stairs, turned the corner, and knocked on the door. Movement exploded within.
“It’s me,” he told them low-voiced—which is probably what he should have done in the first place.
“A moment,” said Harris tightly. “I’ve got some safeguards in place. Give me a moment.”
Good, thought Adam.
The door opened, and Adam stepped inside, closing himself inside. It wasn’t a suite, or even a good hotel room, but there was room for two twin beds, two chests of drawers, and a TV. It was clean, and there was a big window looking out on the same courtyard the main room of the suite did. From up here, he could see over the wall and out to the villa next door. Matt Smith was sitting cross-legged in his bed with his back to the wall. He looked interested but not particularly concerned.
“We’ve found Mercy,” Adam told them.
Harris’s eyebrows climbed. “How did you manage that? Bonarata’s people are asleep now, surely.”
Adam shook his head. “I should have said Mercy found us. She evidently stole an e-book reader with Wi-Fi, found a café with free Wi-Fi, and spent the next ten minutes in frantic conversation via e-mail with one of my wolves before the battery in the e-reader died. She’s in Prague.”
“Prague?” said Smith.
Adam nodded. “Since I was out of reach, Ben consulted the Marrok’s son Charles, who told him to send her to the local Alpha for protection.”
“Libor?” said Smith. “I’ve . . . heard things about Libor of the Vltava.”
“Charles recommended him,” said Adam.
“Oh, sorry,” Smith said. “Probably okay, then, right? Charles doesn’t make mistakes.”
Harris looked back and forth between the two werewolves. “Trouble?”
“I called Libor and confirmed he’d provide safe space for Mercy until I could get there tomorrow morning,” Adam said when Smith didn’t say anything. “If that’s dangerous, if you know something, Smith, this would be the time to let me know.”
Smith shook his head. “No. Libor is a man of his word. If he told you she’d have safety with him, she will.”
“We could be in Prague in an hour and a half,” said Harris. “Maybe a little longer. Do you have a place I can set down there? If not, I have a place to land in Brno and another in Dresden, and it’s only a couple of hours by car from either one to Prague. We could use the main airport, but that might be more public than we want to be.”
“I have a place for you to land in Prague,” Adam said.
“Not a good idea to offend Bonarata,” suggested Smith quietly. “If you leave without clearing it with him, you are putting him in a corner in which he has no choice but to call you an enemy for breaking guesting custom.”
Harris gave his copilot a sharp look.
Adam smiled at the goblin’s surprise. “Remember that werewolves can live a long time, and just because one is submissive doesn’t make them stupid. My experience has suggested the opposite. We have a saying, ‘Listen when the soft ones speak.’”
Smith smiled with only a little irony. “Your mate has a reputation of her own,” said Smith. “Do you think she needs your help? My feeling after the dinner was that Bonarata intends to diplomatically forget about Mercy.”
“Did you overhear something?” Adam asked alertly.
Smith ran his hands though his hair. Glanced up at Adam and then away. “He told one of his vampires, the woman with red-and-gold hair, to call off the hunt. Unless he’s found someone else to hunt, I suspect that’s the hunt for your wife.”
“I heard that, too,” said Harris. “Didn’t make the connection. He said the hunting had lost its joy this season—or something flowery like that. Decided to cancel the hunt. My Italian is pretty bare-bones.”
“I should have said something,” Smith said after a glance up at Adam’s face.
Yes, but there hadn’t been a very good time to do it. It wasn’t anything that he hadn’t exp
ected—it was just a relief to hear.
“All right.” Adam let out his breath. “Mercy should be fine until we can get her. We’ll talk to Bonarata tonight—and then we’ll go find my wife.”
Smith said, “There are some stories you should know that I’ve heard about Prague.”
“Like the stories about Libor?” asked Harris.
Smith shook his head. “Libor is difficult, but there’s not an Alpha on the planet who isn’t difficult one way or the other.” He paused. “Present company excepted, I’m sure.”
Adam snorted.
Smith continued, “At any rate, there are two vampire seethes in the heart of Prague.”
Adam frowned. “They’re even more territorial than we wolves. Is there room for two seethes in Prague?”
“Exactly,” Smith said. “Nothing really wrong but . . . I think it would have been better if your mate had found her way to Munich or Paris. London, even.”
“Up to you, Hauptman,” Harris said. “We could fly to Prague, collect your mate, fly back. Depending upon how long it takes to find her, we might make it back before dark.”
Adam considered it. But it would still mean abandoning Marsilia and Stefan—and that was wrong.
Smith said, in a low voice, “You’d be bringing your mate back into his clutches. He’d see your going as an insult or a challenge. It might make him do something interesting. If you leave her in Prague—and let him know you have her location—he’ll know you respect her ability to take care of herself. It will leave you in a more powerful position in the end.”
“Mercy can take care of herself,” Adam growled, because it was his privilege to take care of her anyway. He took a deep breath and turned to Harris. “Be ready to leave anytime after nightfall tonight. I’ll let Marsilia handle the negotiations. She knows how the bastard’s mind works.”
“No one knows how Bonarata’s mind works,” murmured Smith. “That’s why he’s still around.”
“Get some sleep,” said Adam. He was starting to feel the long day, too. He hadn’t done anything more than catnap since Mercy had been taken. He had a course in front of him now, and even if the monster inside him wasn’t happy with his decision, it was made.
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