“I’m sorry, Logan.” Brayden gave him a compassionate half nod.
What a shit situation this was. His potential mate putting her life in the firing line to get the royal princesses back.
“We haven’t bonded yet if she is,” Logan announced. “But I need to get over there.”
As an assassin, he’d done some dangerous things over the years to reach his targets. Stepping out into daylight would get him killed. However, as the sun rose or sunk into the sky, there was a period of time when a vampire could be outside, in the shadows, not in direct sunshine, and still survive.
It weakened a vampire but didn’t turn them to ash.
“Logan.” Ben warned.
“We’ve done it dozens of times before. We all have.” He glanced around the room and the prince nodded. “I just need to get across the road and inside the building.”
Teleporting in public was also not something vampires were encouraged to do. Especially in the time of smart phones and everything going viral.
“I can find a path,” Logan said.
This is what he did. He was an assassin. He got in and he got his target.
Brooklyn was today’s target.
And possibly his mate.
“Hold on. You could put this entire operation in jeopardy.” Brayden crossed his arms.
“It might already be fucked,” Logan said, standing. “Let me go in there and make sure they don’t kill her. Without Brooklyn to let us inside, we can’t get to the princesses.”
The fact he was willing to risk his life and go out in daylight was beside the point. Brooklyn wouldn’t die if he did. They weren’t bonded.
“He’s right,” Kurt said, cursing.
“Fuck,” Brayden said, leaning his arms on the window and dropping his head.
“The clock is ticking. I have to go.” He pulled on his jacket and zipped it up. “Now.”
“Ben, go with him and make sure we don’t need to sweep him off the sidewalk,” Brayden said, then turned. “Logan, don’t make me lose a good warrior.”
Logan felt the rush of care from the prince wash over him, then nodded and walked to the door.
“We will get Willow back, sire. I promise.”
Ben was behind him as they stepped out the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Usually, when you stay in the restroom for too long, you’re worried people are thinking you might be doing number two.
Flush after flush, people coming and going, washing their hands, and there you sit, pushing.
Brooklyn wished her bowel movements were her greatest issue right now. Instead, she was freaking out that one of those armed men would come in asking what she was up to.
She’d attracted way more attention than she had planned.
Goddamn it.
Why hadn’t she just come down to the restroom first? Being a spy wasn’t in her future. She was terrible at this. Still, that mafia man had been nice saying that about her mom.
Surely, men like him had a level of humanity to them. Perhaps he was close to his mother. Or wife.