Page 23 of Redeemed
“About eight.” David stretches, giving me a peek of skin above his shiny silver waistband.
“So we have time to check out the houses on the water.”
Rolling onto his side, David curls around me. “Wecan’t go anywhere, because the ward is supposed to be portable, but I’m not sure how well it’ll work if we’re driving around.”
“So maybe you two should stay here and I’ll go,” Connor says.
David’s grumbling protest spurs mine. “I don’t like that. I’m not going to hang out here where it’s relatively safe while you take all the risks.”
Connor stares at the ceiling, like he won’t have to argue with what he can’t see, but there’s no way I’m going to let him avoid this discussion.
“I’m with Tray on this one,” David says, flopping around until he’s propped on his elbows. “I should go with you.”
“The two of you aren’t leaving me here.”
“Brodie.” Connor’s patting the air like he can calm us down from a distance. “Brodie’s in town. I’ll ask him to come with me and you two can stay here.”
“And do what?” David sounds skeptical.
“Keep digging into the connection between Frank’s Magic Warehouse and any American Were Authority businesses that might have dealings with him. Poole restored my access to the Securitas intranet so you can use my computer.”
“I still don’t like this,” I say, embarrassed by how petulant I sound.
“I know,mo shíorghrá.I don’t either.” Connor reaches out as if he’s going to caress me, then lets his hand drop. “We’ll figure things out. We will.”
I’m not sure if he’s trying to convince me or himself, but I let it go.
Connor’s friend Brodie arrives within the hour. He’s a lanky thing with straw-colored dreadlocks and a smile that’s more of a leer. Connor once said Brodie is half djinn, and I have no trouble believing that. The djinn play by their own rules, and my respect for Colonel Poole—a man I’m barely acquainted with—rises.
Anyone who can keep a djinn in line must be an excellent leader.
They go off to have adventures while David and I stay behind. David’s absorbed in Connor’s laptop and I’m swimming through a well of self-pity when my phone beeps. I check it, in case Connor’s sent me a text, but it’s a number I don’t recognize.
Trajan Gall, it has come to our attention that you’re interested in meeting with Madame Delia Packard. If that is so, respond to this message.
“Well, damn,” I say, mostly to myself.
David looks over. “What?”
“MadameDelia Packard is interested in meeting with me.” I emphasize themadamebecause who is she kidding? From what I knew, she started life in London’s Spitalfields stew. The only madams there ran the brothels and molly houses.
“Isn’t that one of the sires Connor and I were going to meet with?”
“Yeah,” I say, distracted because I’m trying to figure out how to respond. “Your message must have gotten garbled because she contacted me directly.”
“Tell her Connor and I will meet with her tomorrow night.”
“Or I can just go now.” David’s lips thin and I can almost see his arguments building. “You don’t play bait and switch with a vampire sire, puppy. She messaged me, so I’m going to go.”
“Not alone.”
He speaks with conviction, the alpha making a decision rather than my boyfriend offering to help. I have a brief and intense internal debate, then send a response.
Where can we meet you?
I don’t explain whoweis, because that would involve another level of negotiation and I’m not in the mood. They don’t make me wait for a response.
Madame Packard has taken a private room at Musso and Frank. Please arrive promptly in one hour.
