Page 107 of Beloved Sacrifice

“But Marek came in on his passport.”

“They hired him, why would they have a flag out for him?”

Rose looked dubious.

“Are you okay with the plan? Okay going with him?”

Rose sat down on the edge of the bed, smiling coldly. “Can you imagine Juliette’s face if you came with us? Captain America, a dead man, and her arch enemy, all popping up in her office?”

Weston claimed the chair next to the bed. “She’s not going to see all three of us. You and Marek will provide the distraction while I find the diaries, or that folder, and get the hell out.” That was the part of the plan he was worried about—sending Rose to be part of the distraction. And he hadn’t missed that she didn’t answer his question about whether or not she was worried. “Then we confront the Andersons and end the madness. If you want to have words with Juliette, fine, but make sure that you get out of there.”

Again, Rose didn’t respond directly to his statement. “What do you think happened to those kids, Wes?” Her softly spoken question told him she’d come to the same conclusion he had.

“I think they were killed.”

“What kind of monsters kill kids?”

Weston tilted his head. “Do you really need to ask that question, Brown Eyes?”

She fell silent, and he kicked himself for reminding her how much she’d suffered at the hands of this generation’s monsters.

The door opened and Marek entered. He looked at them. “Is everything all right?”

“Tristan is settled in out there.” Weston nodded toward the door. “Not sure how we’re going to get past him.”

Marek put his hands on his hips, all noble and upstanding. Weston hid a smile. Captain America was a good nickname.

“We’re back on American soil. Who says we have to answer to him? I say we just walk out of here.” Rose raised her hands palm up and arched her brows. “We’re not his prisoners. Trust me. I know what being a prisoner feels like.”

“Never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope.”

Marek shook his head, looking serious. “We are not going to sneak out. We’re going to talk to Tristan and he’s going to let us go.”

“Ohhh, Marek, you’re such a badass. Just walk out there and talk to him?” Rose shook her head. “Bold, ruthless.”

Weston didn’t miss the slight wince on Marek’s face when she said “badass,” but at least he didn’t call her to task for cursing. Marek didn’t respond to her mocking.

“I could grab that lamp over there and knock him out,” Rose offered.

“Bloodthirsty woman. Grandmother will adore you.” Marek turned to the door. “We’re doing it my way.”

Before Weston or Rose could argue, Marek was gone. They followed him to the living room, Weston walking past Marek, wanting to take the lead on this conversation. He knew Tristan better, knew exactly how much information to give.

“We need to run out for a little while,” Weston began.

Tristan was glowering at the TV, flipping through channels. “Forget it.”

“Tristan.”

“We’re here, Wes. I kept up my end of the bargain. You owe me details.”

“You know I’ve been chasing art,” Weston started.

Marek butted in. “We now have some limited evidence that during the theft of that art, people went missing too.”

Tristan looked up. “You said lives were at stake. As in people currently alive. But if this is all about some Nazi art, those people are long dead.”

---