Page 43 of Carry Your Debt

“Do you think that’s him?” he mutters back, again, for my ears alone. Two fingers pluck absently at a set of silverware. I run my eyes across what I can see of his face. He looks composed but he must be feeling off-kilter if he’s openly fidgeting like this.

“The Mayor’s tall, dark hair, yeah? Could be him,” I shrug. I don’t really pay all that much attention to the comings and goings on the other side of the Tethys. We’ve got more than enough bullshit keeping us occupied in Rox City as it is.

“The fuckingGray Man, Callum. And she was dancing withMidas, of all fucking people.”

Yeah, I’m still reeling from that little tidbit myself. Tristan had been giving us a rundown about seeing theKing of thefucking Northand Sabine when the woman herself had shown up, boy toys in tow.

“I still think maybe he just saw a pretty piece of ass,” I hedge. But seeing her now—sitting down to dinner directly beside who we can only assume is the Gray Man—I’m starting to see the growing unlikelihood of that assumption.

Tristan flicks his chin in frustration. “No, they sounded way too chummy for that. He was asking her all sorts of questions. About Rox Academy. Basically threatened to take her home with him.”

The fuck?

He hadn’t mentioned that earlier. At the look of confusion wrinkling the corners of my mouth, he lifts a shoulder, dropping it heavily. “I don’t fucking know, and that’s what we need to find out. As soon as possible.”

“She’s staying at our hotel. Cyber security there isn’t very slick for an Underworld outfit,” Lake smugly supplies, but there’s still an uncharacteristically pinched edge to his expression. “It wasn’t even a challenge to pull her room number.”

My eyes snap up, jaw clenching. The little shit was eavesdropping, after all. “Why would you need her room number?” I ask, carefully.

He doesn’t even look at me, just spins the empty glass in front of him.

“Stay away from her,” Tristan snaps. “The hotel’s security might be shit, but you won’t get anywhere near her. She’s surrounded by Enforcers.”

Unfortunately, there’s no missing the dangerous glint in Lake’s eye, even behind the modest gold half-mask. And I’mveryfamiliar with that look. It’s a look of challenge, and it always appears right before something reckless follows. “I’m going to go see her,” he announces in a waspish tone.

Tristan’s jaw pops.

“We need a plan first,” I insist, hoping to defuse them, at least long enough to get through this fucking meal. We can’t have the two of them at odds in case Sabine was right—and the Suitsdoambush us.

His hands come down, fingers digging into the edge of the table.

“No,” I mouth at him, but my warning only makes his face harden further.

Goddamnit.

I’m not going to be able to let him out of my sight for the rest of the night. Otherwise, he’s going to find himself on the end of Blondie’s chokehold and for once, I don’t think it’s going to be the kind of one he’ll enjoy.

“Menus,” Atlas interrupts, tone low and urgent.

My mouth snaps shut, waiting impatiently for the server to get through double-checking our orders. He taps each of our food requests into his tablet, making a special note to follow up on Tristan’s celiac requirements. His partner leaves both a crystal decanter of whiskey and a carafe of water sitting in the center of the table.

But the moment they finally leave, I sense someone else approaching out of the corner of my eye. This annoying fucking mask blocks most of my peripheral, but I’m so keyed up tonight that anyone moving in the general proximity of my brothers has me glancing around defensively.

My already twisted-to-fuck guts somehow squeeze themselves more tightly when I turn my head and clock the identical pair of assholes sauntering right up to our table.

Just five minutes.

That’s all I’d wanted. A breather from all the games and the bullshit.

Five lousy fucking minutes.

“Look, they even saved us a seat,” one of the Donato twins sings out, his gravelly tone rough on my eardrums.

Raphael.The white stripe at the front of his hair is a dead giveaway.

“Honored, boys, really,” Gabriel snarks in his equally grating accent, circling around to take the empty spot between Lake and Tristan.

Raphael slaps a rough hand down on my shoulder, dragging out the last empty seat to my left. Atlas visibly stiffens as he makes a show of settling in between us, stretching his arms out over the backs of our chairs.

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