by M. A. Grant
Monsters had taken from him. Perhaps it was time for him to take a little of his own back.
“Careful, Mr. Slava,” he said. “Someone might think you were admitting you’d behaved badly in the past.”
Cristian’s head jerked up. He searched Atlas’s expression, confusion furrowing his brow, until it clicked. His sigh was so deep his shoulders shifted and the buttons of his shirt strained from the expansion of his chest. “I never behave badly, Mr. Kinkaid,” he lied.
“Of course not.”
Atlas turned and started for the door. Movement behind him, enough to make his shoulders tense, but not enough to send him into a full-on panic. He’d meant it when he said he wasn’t afraid of Cristian. Wary. Hesitant. Realistic. But not afraid.
“Wait,” Cristian called. “Are you coming back?”
He lifted a hand over his shoulder in an approximation of a wave, just as Cristian had done when he walked away from their first, anonymous meeting. “See you tomorrow night, Mr. Slava.”
Chapter Ten
A few weeks later, Bea called. Atlas eyed her name on his screen and braced himself for her interrogation of how he was resettling at Cristian’s side.
“I’ll be out of the office this weekend, so if I don’t answer my phone, don’t freak out,” Bea told him breezily when he finally picked up.
“You’re never out of the office,” Atlas said, trying to adjust to a new conversation that didn’t require him to defend himself. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Mr. Vladislavic wanted an agent to attend an event with him in Manhattan.”
“Why you?” He scrambled to think of another option. “Isn’t Todd available?”
“Todd’s in Rochester for that political fundraiser and everyone else is in the middle of an assignment. It’s too short notice to adjust our current contracts.”
“I could go with him instead,” Atlas offered. He knew he was being too obvious about keeping her away from the job, but the thought of Bea alone in New York City with a vampire as dangerous as Decebal made desperation an appropriate response.
“No. Mr. Vladislavic and I agreed you should remain with Mr. Slava until this is all sorted. I don’t mind stepping in, since it’ll be a short trip.”
“Are you expecting trouble?”
“It’s unlikely,” Bea hedged.
“But not out of the question,” Atlas said.
She didn’t respond to his statement, which was confirmation of his suspicions. “How are you doing with Mr. Slava? Have you run into any more problems?”
Sometimes it was what Bea didn’t say that mattered more than what she did. Atlas knew this, just like he knew that her silence on the matter meant she was more worried about the job than she was willing to let on.
Her quiet avoidance of discussing it with him stuck long after their call ended. Bea was damn good at her job. Going up against known enemies like the Wharrams was risky, but Atlas knew Decebal would warn Bea of such threats, even if he had to do it in veiled words. It was the outside forces, the enemies Decebal wouldn’t expect, who posed the greatest threat. If Decebal was attacked by humans, there was no telling how he might react, or who he may suspect for betraying him. And Bea would be right in the line of fire.
The last time Atlas had spoken to Jasper almost a week ago, the man said his employer was planning to move against Decebal as soon as an opportunity presented itself. If they were aware of Decebal’s travel plans, there was a chance they’d act within the next few days. It was a risk Atlas couldn’t allow.
He paced his living room while his call connected. After two rings, Jasper answered. “This is Jasper Rhodes.”
“It’s Atlas Kinkaid.”
“Mr. Kinkaid. I didn’t expect to hear from you again, especially so soon. Your information on Mr. Slava’s quotidian activities was...detailed, but we are still determining its value.”
“I wasn’t calling about Cristian’s schedule. Are you aware Decebal Vladislavic is going to an event in New York City in a few days?” He turned sharply on his heel and continued pacing.
“There has been some talk of his attendance,” Jasper said.
A tight ball of fear and anxiety had burrowed under his ribs and Jasper’s quiet breathing on the other end of the line offered no comfort. Atlas grimaced at the silence and continued, “My sister is accompanying Decebal to the event, since none of her other agents were available. She has no idea what she might be walking into.”
“Consider Decebal’s attendance a coup in itself, Mr. Kinkaid,” Jasper soothed. “He’s been elusive since the incident at Hahn Lake. He must feel confident in your abilities to protect his son if he’s willing to travel at this time. You are single-handedly creating opportunities for us to confront him.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Atlas said flatly. “The only thing that matters to me is my sister’s safety. Your employer has no intention of moving against him during this meeting?”
“We are considering multiple options. After all, there are many factors we must consider as we plan—”
“You aren’t answering me, Mr. Rhodes. Does your employer have any intention of confronting Decebal?”
“Of course.”
“When?”
“I’m afraid I cannot answer that. She is waiting for the right opportunity. You are aware of what he is, Mr. Kinkaid. It would be foolish to confront him before holding the correct collateral. No one would make it out alive.”
“If action is taken against him during his trip, my sister may not make it out alive,” Atlas snapped.
Papers rustled and there was the telltale creak of an office chair moving. Jasper sounded a bit more contrite when he said, “I’ll speak with my employer, Mr. Kinkaid. I am certain she would not wish Beatrice to be put in any danger. That is not our goal, after all.”
Atlas drew up, frustration simmering over until no movement was enough to contain it. “Let me put this plainly,” he bit out. “I joined this scheme because your employer said Scarsdale would be safer if I helped her. My sister getting dragged deeper into this clusterfuck is not what I consider safer. If your employer can’t guarantee Bea will be kept out of this, I’m done.”
Jasper coughed delicately. “I see. I shall be sure to share your rather strong sentiments with my employer. We truly value you, Mr. Kinkaid, and—”
Atlas hung up, too angry to listen to any more of Jasper’s polite and empty promises, and glanced at the series of text messages he’d received while on the call. They were all from Cristian, and he groaned as he tried to scroll back to find the start of the one-sided conversation.
This week was the anniversary of Vasilica and Dinu’s entry into the Vladislavic family, and Cristian had been plotting the celebration for days. The only time he could talk about his plans without alerting the pair was when he was in the car with Atlas. It meant Atlas had become a coconspirator despite his best efforts to avoid it. He mostly grunted in response to Cristian’s questions about activities or venues, only adding in his two cents if he had a security concern. Judging from how many messages he’d sent in the last ten minutes, Cristian had finally decided his final plans.
Atlas eventually found the first message, which stated unhelpfully, It’s Cristian. Before he could read further, an incoming call blocked his view of the other texts. He closed his eyes tightly, prayed for patience, and answered. “Mr. Slava.”
“You weren’t responding,” Cristian said.
“I was reading your messages.”
“And not responding.” He made a thoughtful sound when Atlas growled and continued, “It seemed easier to call.”
“I thought you preferred text for secrecy’s sake.”
“Not right now. Andrei distracted them for me. Dinu’s new espresso machine arrived and they’re in the kitchen setting it up. Ioana is watching the hall for me while I talk to you
.”
“Then talk.”
“I got reservations at La Palourde for Thursday evening.”
“I’m happy for you,” Atlas replied idly. Thursday evening, so the night before Bea was set to leave with Decebal. Delightful. He’d have plenty of time to worry about his sister becoming a target for the Wharrams while Cristian and the crew indulged on fine wine and extravagant entrees.
“Do you even know what La Palourde is?” Cristian asked without any real heat. “It’s—you know what, never mind. Look it up.”
“Fine.”
“And wear something nice. Not black tie. Maybe the blue suit. I won’t have you embarrassing me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Atlas lied, tilting his head back so he could stare up at the ceiling. For an immortal creature, Cristian worried far too much about appearances.
“Cristian,” Ioana warned in the distance.
“Shit, I have to go. Blue suit. Thursday night. And it’s a secret, so don’t mention it between now and then.”
The call cut off. Atlas dutifully looked up the restaurant, which was located in the wealthiest part of Scarsdale proper. No wonder Cristian wanted him in a suit. The place looked ridiculously overpriced, though its ambiance almost made up for it. He flicked through the website’s pictures, noting the illuminated stained glass panels and Belle Epoque–inspired decor. Private dining rooms branched off from the main eating space, which surrounded the bar. Cristian had probably reserved one of them. Atlas made a face. More rooms meant more security risks, with more places for unsavory characters to hide.
He stiffened. More places to hide. He swiped through the photos again, forcing himself to examine them from an offensive, rather than defensive, perspective. He noted the location of the bar, of the restrooms, of the entrances and exits. An idea sparked in the back of his mind and began to grow. He dialed Jasper’s number again, not bothering to apologize for his earlier comments when the man picked up with a surprised, “Mr. Kinkaid?” Instead, he kept focused on his mission.
“I need to speak to your employer.”
“I’m afraid she isn’t available—”
“I have new information. She won’t regret speaking to me, I swear.”
Jasper sighed. “One moment.” The flat quiet of the line told Atlas he’d been put on hold. After what felt like a lifetime, Jasper came back on. “She is not pleased,” Jasper murmured, “but I’m putting you through.”
With every ring, he tightened his grip on the phone. At last, a refined voice came on the line. “Mr. Kinkaid. Mr. Rhodes has spoken to me about your concerns. While I appreciate how love for a sister can lead someone to action, I would caution you to not overstep your place.”
“Please,” Atlas said. “Mr. Rhodes said you need collateral before you’ll confront Decebal.” When she didn’t speak, he pushed aside the last of his doubts and added, “I can get it for you.”
* * *
A large, black SUV was parked outside the main house when Atlas pulled in on Thursday night. He’d barely gotten out of his car and checked the lines of his suit before the front door of the house opened. Cristian strode out, looking down as he fiddled with his tie. “Helias said you’d just buzzed in and I wanted to check with you before we—” He glanced up and stumbled to a stop. His eyes narrowed and his mouth opened slightly. “Oh.”
“You requested the blue suit,” Atlas said, fighting the urge to check his outfit for the flaw Cristian had found.
“Yes,” Cristian said, too quickly. “I didn’t expect you to actually follow orders though.” He snapped his mouth shut, but didn’t stop looking at Atlas.
“Is it okay?” Atlas pressed.
Cristian hadn’t moved any closer to Atlas or the SUV, but his uneven exhalation was audible despite the distance. “The suit is quite...tolerable.” He accidentally caught Atlas’s gaze and threw up a too-bright grin. “I had no idea you could pull it off,” he added.
Odd moment broken by the weak attempt at humor, Atlas took his place by the driver’s door. “Have you told them where we’re going yet?”
Cristian didn’t get a chance to answer. The rest of the group spilled out of the house. Dinu spotted Atlas first and slid out of Vasilica’s grasp long enough to lope over and attempt to crush him in a hug.
“Atlas!” Dinu cheered into his sternum. He must have started drinking early, because he didn’t notice Atlas’s sudden stiffness or the desperate look he shot Vasilica. “You didn’t have to dress up too.” He drew back and eyed Atlas’s suit. “But you look damn good doing it, so thanks for that.” Before Atlas could get a word in edgewise, Dinu craned his head back and smiled at Vasilica. “Doesn’t he look great, babe? He’s celebrating with us!”
Vasilica’s answering smile to Dinu was warm and fond. She corralled him and gave Atlas some proper breathing room before asking, “Where are we going?”
Atlas deferred to Cristian, who grinned and announced, “La Palourde.”
Dinu and Vasilica cheered and got into the car, followed swiftly by the rest of them. Atlas stole a moment to text Jasper as they settled in the backseats. On our way.
The vampires lost themselves in their own world of boisterous, cheerful conversation. Stories and memories flew back and forth, but Atlas only partially listened, too caught up in his own nervous thoughts. It wasn’t until he pulled onto the restaurant’s street and began looking for parking that the reality of what he was about to do sank in.
As he’d expected, Cristian had reserved the largest and most decadent private room. The ceiling overhead resembled painted glass, and the three walls surrounding the table were adorned with art nouveau tableaux, graceful women dressed in diaphanous robes and surrounded by gilded leaves and flowers. Only one door led in and out of the room, and Atlas settled himself there, where he could watch the main dining area for any sign of Jasper’s people. No one seemed to fit the bill. Maybe that was a good thing, since they had to make it look like Atlas was taken unawares before Cristian was snatched away.
“Atlas,” Cristian called. “Are you joining us?”
Everyone smiled at him, seemingly supportive of the unexpected invitation. Everyone but Andrei, who watched Atlas a bit too closely. No matter how nice an expensive meal sounded, he couldn’t accept it.
“Not tonight,” he replied.
Cristian frowned and Andrei leaned in to mutter something in his ear. Cristian shook his head and turned deliberately to banter with Vasilica.
Servers came and went, with only minimally surprised looks at Atlas as they passed. Plates and glasses danced in and out of the room as the group worked through the menu. With every course that passed, Atlas found himself focused less and less on Cristian and his friends, and more on everyone else in the restaurant. Rather than stepping to the side when servers arrived, he stepped out into the main dining room. He used the pretense of giving the servers more room to maneuver to see if anyone new had arrived, only to be disappointed again and again when Jasper’s people didn’t show.
He dared to text Jasper once, while Cristian was in the restroom. The only response he received read Taking care of it. He wanted to ask for clarification, find out what was being taken care of, but had to slip his phone back in his pocket when the restroom door opened and Cristian emerged.
“Something wrong?” Cristian asked him.
“No,” Atlas lied.
Cristian hummed and sauntered back toward their private room, Atlas following at a discreet distance. Cristian slowed as they neared the bar, checking the shelves the way he usually did before ordering his next drink. Atlas was about to urge him to move along when he caught movement at the opposite end of the bar. A man stood and began walking toward them slowly. He was perfectly average, the kind of person who would blend into any situation without a second glance. Atlas’s first instinct was to put himself between the man and Cristian, until he remembered Jasper�
��s response.
Maybe this was how Jasper was going to take care of the situation. Atlas forced himself to pause, giving the man an extra few seconds to close the distance to Cristian.
The man put on a charming smile and sidled up beside Cristian at the bar, ignoring Atlas entirely. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked Cristian.
Cristian gave him a cutting glance before dismissing him out of hand. “No.”
He turned away from the bar, giving the man his back. No better opportunity would come to grab hold of Cristian. Except the man didn’t take the opening. He just shrugged at the bartender and headed back to his original seat, leaving Atlas on his own to face Cristian’s irritation.
“You’re an amazing observer,” Cristian remarked as he rejoined Atlas.
“Wasn’t sure if you wanted me to stop him,” Atlas said. “You dislike when I do it at Rapture.”
Cristian made a face. “We aren’t at Rapture. And I’m not interested in picking up anyone tonight.”
“Understood,” Atlas murmured.
They returned to the group. Andrei was the only one who seemed to notice their return, since the rest were busy deciding what to order for dessert.
“Who was that at the bar?” he asked Cristian.
“No one,” Cristian replied, passing by his great-uncle to reach his empty seat and jumping right into the dessert conversation.
His short response—and obvious desire to not discuss it further—may have protected him from Andrei’s further curiosity, but it couldn’t save Atlas.
“Surprised that one got past you,” Andrei called to Atlas.
“Won’t happen again,” Atlas replied.
He returned to his position at the door and tried to ignore the intimidating weight of Andrei’s gaze on him. Atlas hoped the older vampire would read his lack of intervention with the man at the bar as an honest mistake, but he sincerely doubted it. He’d been too eager to trust Jasper’s promise of results, and all he had to show for it was Andrei’s increased suspicion.