Page 17 of Golden Eagle

“You sniffed us out like hunting dogs?” Nikita asked, incredulous. His fangs scraped across his lower lip, too long for the middle of a pub.

Much sneered again.

Will looked like he suppressed a smile. “No. Like wolves.”

“Do you not havecellphones?”

Their server returned, tray heaped with plates that he began doling out, heedless of the bristling tension at the table.

Really, the tension was only Nik’s. No one else seemed bothered by this encounter, since he didn’t think teenage insolence really counted.

A plate thumped down in front of him: grilled cheese on thick buttery toast, small mountain of fries beside it.

His stomach shrank.

When the server left to get them drink refills, Sasha leaned in close and said, “Eat.Please.” Soft, but urgent. Begging.

Nikita lifted a fry with a shaking hand and dutifully nibbled at the end, stomach cramping.

“I do apologize,” Will said. He looked distinctly roguish, in a battered old canvas jacket, long green hoodie, jeans, and with his hair in haphazard curls across his forehead, but he spoke like someone who’d been brought up in a royal court somewhere. Or, at least the way Nikita imagined someone who had would sound. “We’ve bungled this a bit, I’m afraid. But we came only with the friendliest of intentions.”

Nik glanced over at Much, who’d ordered a bacon cheeseburger the size of his head, and who was trying to take an unsuccessful, messy bite of it, ketchup and grease dripping down onto his plate.

He set the fry down and drained off his vodka. “Which are?”

“Recruitment, of a sort.” Will fished something from his pocket and flipped it out onto the table. A business card, Nik saw, matte black, with a glossy embossed lion on it. One word:Lionheart.

“Lionheart,” Nikita said, without taking the card. “As in…?”

“Richard, yes.”

“So he’s a…”

“Yes. Turned, actually, during the Third Crusade.”

Nik lifted his brows. “I don’t keep up much with world history.”

“Shame,” Will said with a grin. “It’s quite useful. But, here allow me to–” He leaned forward, rested a fingertip on the card. Gearing up for a speech of some kind.

Nik thumped his empty glass down. “No.”

“No?” Will asked, not surprised, but questioning.You sure of this?

Much snorted, licking a piece of wayward bacon into his mouth.

“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t bother,” Nikita said. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Nik,” Sasha said, “Will was telling me a little about Lionheart while you were…”

“Passed the fuck out,” Much supplied.

Sasha gave a low, quick chuff of warning. To Nikita: “They help people. Mortals who are having trouble with immortals.”

Nikita stared at Will.

“We’re military contractors, of a sort,” he explained. “As wolves, we have a bit of a leg up on mortal soldiers, as you can imagine. We take private cases. Special ones. The kind governments don’t want leaked to the public.”

“You mean the kind that pay well.”

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