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“Do, Merit. And good luck to you.”
* * *
I messaged Jonah about our plan, and advised the group about our backup Ombuddies. Half an hour later, Victor’s team stood in our foyer: three muscled men in black thermal shirts and fatigue pants.
One stood in front of the others, his skin deeply tanned, his shoulders broad, his waist narrow. His nose was a hawkish wedge above a dark, full beard. Two other men stood beside him with nearly the same coloring. I’d have guessed they were brothers, and considering their physiques, they certainly had the look of special forces soldiers.
“Ethan Sullivan,” he said, moving forward with an outstretched hand.
“Ryan,” said the man in front. He gestured toward his team. “Cord, Max. Victor indicated you’d spoken.” Ryan’s voice carried a faint accent that I would have pegged as Texan.
Ethan nodded, then gestured to us. “Malik, Second. Lindsey, guard, and Merit, Sentinel. Our captain, Luc, is pulling plans for the hotel.”
“Excellent,” Ryan said. “And it’s nice to meet you. Is there a place we can talk?”
“My office,” Ethan said, and led us back there. A tray of bottled water and blood had been brought in and now sat in the middle of the conference table.
“Help yourselves,” Ethan said, pointing to it, “if you need to refresh.”
Luc walked in with paper in hand. Recognizing that the team had been assembled, he closed the door behind him, spread the paper on the table.
Ryan extended a hand and introduced himself and his team.
Luc responded in kind, then looked at Ethan. “Darius is in the Burnham suite on the twenty-seventh floor. It’s the penthouse.”
“How’d you confirm that?” Ethan asked.
“The elevator Darius used—it’s private, only goes to one floor.”
“Private elevator,” Ryan said, looking over the plans. “Tricky to only have one exit, but handy in reducing collateral civilian damage.”
“Yes, and my thoughts exactly. Civilian damage is not an option.” Luc flipped around the paper and pointed to a layout of the hotel’s first floor. “Private elevator’s the first in the bank of elevators.” He pointed to the back of the hotel, where a loading dock and staff entrances were situated. “There’s a route from the back entrance—a staff hallway—that opens onto the main floor just behind the private elevator.”
“Could be a guard on the elevator,” Ryan said.
Luc nodded. “Wasn’t one earlier tonight, but that doesn’t mean the muscle hasn’t wised up.” He pointed at the vendor entrance. “We’ll want bodies here to secure the exit, someone to handle the man on the elevator and guard it until we come down, and a team to go upstairs.”
“And when we get there?” Ethan asked, moving around to stand behind Luc and get a better look at the floor plan.
“The suite has five rooms—living room with a kitchen area, two bedrooms, two bathrooms. We can divide up, check the rooms.”
“In addition to securing Darius,” Ethan said, “we’ll want to look for the papers that might have been in that portfolio. We’ll assume it was related to the monetary transfers, but let’s be certain if we can.”
Ryan nodded. “We make this as quick as possible, with minimal collateral damage. We find him, evaluate him, and get him out. Violence only if necessary. Darius West is still our king.”
“Understood,” Ethan said. “But you’ll have heard from Victor, and we verified today that he’s under the influence of someone, or something. He may not act like your king tonight, but your enemy.”
“Yeah,” Ryan said. “And that’s really pissing me off.” He looked at each of us. “I understand you’ve got politics to consider. I propose we go in first, your team behind. My man will take out the guard on the elevator; you assign people to secure the escape route.”
Ethan looked to Luc, who nodded. “Lindsey and I will take the exit, keep it secure. You and Merit take the penthouse; you know Darius better.”
“Max, you’ll have the elevator,” Ryan said. “Cord and I will go up with Merit and Ethan. We’ve got weapons, if you’d like to use them.”
“We have an arsenal,” Luc said, “but we’re katana people. Especially in a public place where bullets won’t be friendly—katanas are our comfort zone.”
Ryan nodded. “We prefer handguns, but we’re cognizant of the risks. We’ll be careful around your humans.”
The deal was sealed, earpieces were passed out, and nerves began to build.
* * *
Cord, Ryan, and Max were clearly men with experience, savvy, technical know-how.
They were also men who’d driven to Cadogan House in a white panel van with MINELLI’S CATERING stenciled along the side.
Luc looked at it, hands on his hips. “Minelli’s Catering?”
Cord pulled open the side door, rolled it back so we could get in. “People are less suspicious—they poke around a lot less—when we’ve got vinyl on the van.”
“Good plan,” Luc said. “I guess food comforts people.”
Lindsey slid me a sideways glance.
“No snark on an op,” I reminded with a pointed finger, and climbed inside.
* * *
The ride was quiet, intense. Nervous magic filled the small space, as our seven-person team prepared to liberate a Master vampire—the master of them all—from his magical captivity in the penthouse of a Chicago hotel.
What could go wrong there? For starters, we could be injured or killed, we could hurt civilians, we could piss off the GP even further.
I glanced at Ethan. One arm was crossed over his chest; the other rubbed the bridge of his nose as he stared out the front window. What did he think about at times like this? Darius? His challenge? The House and its vampires? All of those things, probably, tempered by the secret he was holding and the adrenaline that was probably beginning to flow as the operation drew nearer.
I tucked my arm through his, leaned my head against his shoulder. We weren’t yet balanced, but for now, we’d be unconditional allies.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, we pulled into the service area behind the Portman Grand. It was late—too late for parties—and not early enough for the next day’s food deliveries. Another bit of luck for us.
The Cabot team, Luc, and Lindsey climbed out of the van.
“A minute,” I said, putting a hand on Ethan’s arm, keeping him inside until the vehicle was empty.
