Page 92 of Golden Eagle

Alexei cursed him in Russian and French as he turned around, and just caught Dante’s amused smirk. “Don’t,” he ordered, pointing a finger at him. And headed for Hannah’s table.

She glanced up when they approached, and tensed, but it was too late. Alexei and Jamie slid in across from her, and Dante settled at her side, boxing her in, a seemingly-casual arm draped along the back of the booth behind her.

“Hello, again,” Alexei said pleasantly. “May we join you?”

Her gaze shifted across all of them, her jaw tightening, her scent blooming with adrenaline. Her hand tightened on her phone, as she sent the screen to black. But her voice managed nonchalance when she said, “Looks like you already have.”

“Excellent. I thought you could help me with my inquiries.”

“Are you fucking serious?” she asked, deadpan. She looked to Dante. “Is he fucking serious with that ‘inquiries’ shit?”

Dante shrugged. “’Fraid so.” He’d found a piece of gum somewhere, and cracked it obnoxiously. “He’s a prince, you know? Likes to sound like one.”

Beside Alexei, Jamie perked up, brows knitting as he looked at Dante, who only an hour or so ago had been talking like the prim and proper Brit he’d once been.

Alexei stepped on his foot under the table and sent Hannah a serene smile. “Your master.”

She sighed, like she thought he was stupid. “He’s not here. Like I told you last time–”

“No,” Alexei said. It wouldn’t work – at least he didn’t think so, because bound wolves were more or less immune to another vampire’s compulsion – but he sent a mental shove through the airwaves toward her anyway. “I don’t care where he is now. I want to knowwhohe is. And why he’s siccing you on humans.”

The color drained out of her face. Her eyes went wide. And then narrowed. “Don’t try that mental shit on me. It doesn’t work.”

“Fine,” Alexei said, “then you can be a dear and answer my question willingly. Why does your master want you to tear innocent humans into tiny, bloody pieces? For sport? Or is he sending a message to someone?”

She growled, and moved to get up.

Dante gripped the table with one hand, braced himself, and growled back – his face the picture of cool-guy serenity. It was a feat, actually; Alexei planned to ask him how he pulled it off, later.

“Answer the question,” he said through a smile, in his real voice.

The sound of it surprised her into stillness. “What the–”

“Listen,” Alexei said. “I’m not going to go running back to Nikita with this. I’m nobody’s bitch, especially not his, the fucking uptight loser.”

Jamie knocked their knees together under the table in silent reprimand.

He ignored it. “Gustav has expressed interest in communicating further, if I wanted.” He produced the card Gustav had given him, the one he’d stashed up his sleeve before coming in. He hadn’t called, yet. He got shaky inside even now thinking about it; but it made for a good bluff. “He’s here, I know he is. Be a good doggy and run go tell him I’d like to chat.”

Jamie gave him another whack with his knee.

Hannah glared at him. It was honestly terrifying. Whatever happened tonight, he had no doubt she was currently putting him on her personal hit list.

But she hissed, “Fine,” and motioned for Dante to let her up, which he did. “Wait here.” She stalked off down the back hall.

“Do you have to be such a privileged jackass?” Jamie asked.

“Yes.” Alexei’s attention shifted to Dante as he settled back in the booth, brows knitted. “Shit, now what?”

Jamie made an outraged sound.

Dante said, “This is your show, dear heart, we’re just along for moral support. What’s your plan?”

Alexei bit his lip. He didn’t normally have to make plans. “I’m going to find out what the hell’s going on.”

“And tell Nik,” Jamie said.

Alexei rounded on him with a glare. “Stop being such a fucking Boy Scout. I’m going to find out, and then…I’ll go from there.”

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