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“It’s possible.”
“How much?” Bile rises up my throat––buying a female is nauseating.
“Half of what they want, but I’m certain they’ll end up using the women as shields. No way they’ll walk away completely unscathed, if at all. We’d have to do it in two stages.”
“Money isn’t the issue. I want the scum to pay. Before, after—it makes no difference to me.”
“We can do that. But you paying them first will give the women a better chance at safety. We’ll get them out.” Hagen takes a sip of his coffee and wiggles his eyebrows.
2
EROS
The thing about humans is that they overshare. Social media, location trackers and the like. It’s not hard to find anyone at any fucking time, even when they think they are hiding. They’re not. Not with the systems the Dorian government has given me access to.
I debarked from the Kraken’s high-speed cross-Atlantic transport this morning. The Kraken dropped me in the Boston harbor with my go-bag of gear and my own wits. I’ve done more with less. I’ve traveled around the world on contracts for the security council but never here. Boston. This section of town looks like a lot of industrial cities; it’s seen better times. And just like in those other cities, no one is paying any attention to me. Even the men who are holding Sunshine’s family. Two of them walked right past me. But then that’s what people do when they think you’re homeless—walk faster and avoid eye contact. I’ve used the same ploy a half dozen times for cases on land.
The fucking security council thinks they are being clever. My orders? Kill my mate’s kin. There are those in the Veiled City who see them as a threat to our way of life. So I must kill Sunshine’s cousin and aunt or my sister gets turned over to the Kraken. No one harms my family. Annabelle’s family are mine now. I’m not letting any of these females down.
I’m huddled outside a warehouse. It’s the location of an organized crime unit that has put Sunshine’s cousin and aunt up on auction to the highest bidder. It’s a large operation, and while they’ve got bodies, some of the guys holding down their keep are just that, bodies. There are so many holes in their defenses a grandma with a grocery bag and a hand grenade could take the place down.
I’m not doing the hit, but I am saving my sister. I’ve got a day at most to figure out how to rescue Annabelle’s family but make it look like I did the hit instead—while getting them to safety.
I open my pervisculum to its full length and get a much better view of the inside. It’s a warehouse, or rather, it used to be one. Most of the windows are missing and replaced with plywood. There’s a sign on the alley that says, “Pembroke Bottle Company.” It’s been gone for at least a decade. Through the brick I can make out the heat signatures of a half-dozen men on the first floor. On the second floor, there are another four heat signatures. Two of them are small enough to be my targets.
My stomach clenches at the term. Targets. They’re my mate’s family. Two females whom I will protect, just as I would Sunshine and my sister Marina. But first I need to find out more about the males keeping them. Because my instructions were to pay the ransom to Sunshine’s uncle to free her cousin and aunt, then get rid of the women, but that was before he sold them to the crime syndicate. Most importantly, do it without involving the human government. I’ve done some creative work in the past. And sure as shit, if I wanted to, I could get this job done the way the security council framed it, easily.
There’s one window on the second floor that’s not boarded up or blacked out. The pervisculum is a long single-lens binocular device. But it’s so much more than that. With the one clear shot inside the warehouse, it can see everything. I launch the micro dart with a click. In a few minutes, I’ll have the complete layout of the building. I take a step back, crashing against the brick wall of the abandoned storefront across the alley. The clock for all three women’s safety ticks down in the back of my head: my sister, along with Sunshine’s aunt and cousin. After I’ve dealt with this fucking mess, I’m going to sleep for a week. But not now. I have to keep my senses alert.
I’ve been awake since I received the details of the hit, somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic. I have thirty-six-hours. No, scratch that, I had thirty-six hours. I’m down to thirty-two.
I glance quickly at my block. The data from the pervisculum is still downloading, but heels clicking on the sidewalk below have me putting my tech away. I flatten myself against the wall, shoulders hunched, head down. I put the shopping trolley I’m using to hold my go-bag to the side of me and the oncoming pedestrians. The heavy application of alcohol to my tattered winter coat should have them looking away. The two coming aren’t human—their massive shoulders suggest shifters. One is at least a foot taller than me. He’s wearing expensive clothing. And the other? Shit. The other is the fucking golden prince. What in the hell is he doing here? How does he even know about Sunshine’s aunt and cousin being in danger? And what the hell is he wearing?
Castor looks past me, but the other male doesn’t. His gait slows, and I have no choice. “Can you spare any change?” I say in a low voice.
He slows and takes me in. “I don’t have any.” Which is hysterical. The massive male next to Castor narrows his eyes at me. “I’m sure the good folks at the coffee place around the corner will be willing to give you something.” I’m not meeting him around the corner. He needs to get the hell away from here. The last thing I need is for the clueless humans inside to make me and move the women.
I nod. “This isn’t the place for two upstanding Bostonians.”
“We’ll take that into consideration,” the giant says. A true half-giant. I’ve come across a few in my work. He’s not originally from around here. His voice has a southern drawl to it.
Castor nods at me. He knows who I am. He cocks his head to the giant and lifts his head.
The giant purses his lips. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”
That’s when I spot the sniper on the roof. Damn, he’s good. I didn’t make him until his hand twitched. Fuck, there’s another one on the other side of the street too. They’re all focused on the building where Sunshine’s family is. Now I know why Castor’s here—he thinks he can buy his way out of the problem. How typical. I’m about to pull him back around the corner, when I spot a sharpshooter on top of the building next to the warehouse.
I keep my shoulders rounded, in character. I lift my eye at the snipers. “I’m new around here. Sure is cold. You must have lots of family in the area?” If they’re his men on the roof, that’s one less worry.
“I do. Good family. Nothing to worry about.” Hagen nods and takes a step off the curb.
Castor’s lips tighten with recognition. “Therodonsian,” he says.
“Frodorian,” I say, countering his rotten whale’s spleen insult with a much simpler one.
When a cloaked helio appears in front of the building—well, it doesn’t shut off its cloaking, but to the casual observer, Dorian soldiers stream out of nowhere. They’re crew from the Omicron—I’d bet anything on it.
Things happen fast. Really fast.
