Page 42 of Elven Lies

Whatever he said next couldn’t possibly be good.

“Yes,” she said. “ThatCarl. Where is he?”

Rowan glanced at the ceiling like he’d find the answer there, then shrugged.

Blue Hells, how long had he been standing outside the office door, listening in again?

The chair banged violently against the table before Maxwell stormed across the room toward the Blackmoon Elf. “You were given orders to stay away. If I learnanyonehas been harmed because you decided to call the shots yourself—”

“Whoa, hey.” Rowan chuckled and lifted both hands. “Who said anything about harm? She asked where he was. He could be anywhere.”

Maxwell moved at impossible speed. The next second, he had a fistful of the Blackmoon Elf’s shirt collar in his hand, jostling Rowan toward the door.

“If you don’t leave in the next three seconds,” he growled, “harmwillbe part of the conversation. Your harm.”

“Hannigan,” Rebecca called firmly. “Wait.”

The shifter paused, snarling in Rowan’s face with his fist still buried in the elf’s shirt collar, but that was as far as he went for now.

Now that she’d had a few seconds to consider Rowan’s announcement after the disappointing surprise of his entrance, she couldn’t help but wonder what he’d meant.

If they needed to see a guy about a key?

“I have no issue with throwing him out this second, Roth-Da’al,” Maxwell growled.

“Maybe later,” she said. “But right now, I wonder if Blackmoon might not have a sliver of valuable information. Let’s hear him out first.Thenyou can employ disciplinary action.”

Her Head of Security shot her a look of wide-eyed disbelief but recovered quickly. Then he shoved Rowan by the shirt collar toward the center of the office before releasing him. “Speak.”

Rowan straightened out his shirt and grinned at the shifter. “Do I get a treat after?”

“Here’s what I can’t figure out,” Rebecca began, hoping a bit more conversation would keep these two from going at each other’s throats. “How do you know anyone in Chicago, Blackmoon? As I understand it, you haven’t been here long.”

“What can I say?” He took several small steps forward, still readjusting his shirt, and spread his arms again. “I’m generally a friendly guy.”

Zida snorted and muttered, “I bet he’s madeloadsof friends.”

Beside her, Bor grunted and raised a gnarled hand to his forehead in exasperation.

“Then let me narrow this down,” Rebecca added. “How do you know key-makers in Chicago?”

“Oh, he’s not just a key-maker inChicago,” Rowan replied, putting on all the charm as he started about the room like it wasa stage. “This guy goes everywhere. And I do meaneverywhere. On this world, at least. Trust me, he really gets around.”

“Just what we need,” Maxwell grumbled, folding his arms beside the office door and refusing to budge. “Another traveling salesman with cheap tricks and too much to say.”

Rebecca assumed he stayed there to guard the only exit in case Rowan tried to make a run for it after this, and she had no reason to call him away from that post.

“Hannigan has a point,” she said. “You seem overly confident about a key-maker’s ability to help us, but if this person doesn’t have any real roots in Chicago, how do we know we can trust him? Or that he would even know what we need? That he’d know anything about Aldous to help us with this key?”

Rowan smirked at her, his hazel eyes glinting in the light. “Spoken like a true local, Roth-Da’al.”

Damn, she’d set herself up for that one. Shade new Rebecca wasn’t from Chicago, either. Most of the task force wasn’t, but now she’d inadvertently discredited herself with that logic.

Not that anyone in this room would fault her for it.

Rowan didn’t fault her for it, either; he was just having a blast exploiting it.

“We don’t have to listen to this,” Maxwell said. “It’s a long shot.”

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