Page 36 of Golden Eagle

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“Since you’re buying…” Lanny said, and led them to his favorite steakhouse.

Trina bit back a smile.

Once they’d ordered wine – a Cabernet the color of blood, Trina couldn’t fail to notice – and had their order put in, Trina fixed her best detective smile in place – the one that projected calm friendliness – and said, “I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume Nik told you to take a hike.”

Will had the grace to look chagrined. A true reaction? She wondered. Or him playing a part. He certainly fit the bill of the hopelessly charming Brit, and in her line of work, hopelessly charming people used that to their advantage – even as a weapon.

“Not in those exact terms, no,” he said. “But he didn’t want anything to do with me. In fact, I suspect if he hadn’t been unconscious at first–”

“Hewhat?” Trina said, gut clenching. Her arms tensed, hand itching to go for her waistband again.

“He – well, he passed out, I’m afraid,” Will said, brows knitting together; polite regret. “It’s to do with his blood sugar, Sasha said.” He seemed baffled by the idea. “He doesn’t eat, apparently, and then.” He gave an elegant hand gesture. “Sasha all but dragged him down to the pub so we could chat. By the time he came around – and in bad shape, too – he was boxed in and rather forced to at least hear me out.”

“Shit, he hated that,” Lanny said. He picked up his wine and drained half the glass in one long, bad-mannered gulp. Trina could read the tension in him, though; the muscle that ticked in his jaw. The tightness around his eyes.

“He seemed to,” Will said. “But I think Sasha might have been receptive.”

“Receptive to what?” Trina asked.

He reached into an interior pocket of his hoodie and produced a small black business card with the casual flare of long practice. “Joining us,” he said, as he handed it toward her between two elegant, but callused fingers.

She held his gaze – and didn’t take the card.

“Ah,” he said, with a sideways smile. “I see.”

Lanny reached over and took the thing, though, tilting it so the soft lamplight flared over its gilt lettering. “Lionheart,” he read aloud.

“I already have one of those,” Trina said. Cool, but careful not to bite. She wasn’t nervous – but this bothered her, for reasons she didn’t yet understand.

“From Deshawn,” Will said, nodding. “He’s one of our best.”

Much – not allowed to have wine because there wasn’t a fake ID in the world that would allow him to pass for twenty-one – made a face and said, “Can’t we just get on with all this? They’re going to say no, anyway.”

“Why do you look like a toddler?” Lanny asked him, and Trina nearly choked on a sudden laugh, but managed to swallow it.

“You–” Much started, face going crimson, leaning over the table.

Will clamped a hand on his shoulder, and shoved him back into his seat. “Wolves,” he said, pleasantly, “as I’m sure you’ve realized after having been acquainted with Sasha, are arrested at the moment of their turning. If they’re turned. Born is another story. But. Much was only fifteen when–”

“Just ask them already,” Much said, snarling low in his throat – a true wolf sound. Glaring at Lanny. “I want to leave.”

Will turned his head to regard his friend. “We have steaks coming,” he said, low and soothing. “We’ll eat. I’ll do the negotiating. Andthenwe can leave.”

“I’m not a child, you fucker,” Much hissed.

“Of course not, old chap.” Will patted him on the shoulder, twice, quickly, and then turned back to them with an apologetic smile. “I guess I should get to the point, then.”

“That’d be good, yeah,” Lanny said.

Will let out a slow breath. “Well, you see, the thing is: we handle supernatural security jobs.” He kept his voice low; Trina had to lean forward to hear, though Lanny, with his new vampiric senses, stayed put. “Sometimes, out in the world, things happen that mortals have a very hard time explaining. A few questions in the right ears, a few notes passed back and forth, some governmental phone calls, and we get notified. We have the experience, the knowledge, and the resources to get in and out of anywhere quickly, and efficiently. Our activities don’t even make the evening news, most times.

“But it’s important work. Work that we’re – uniquely qualified for.”

“You had helicopters in Virginia,” Trina reminded.

“We havelotsof resources.”

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