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I shook my head. “I think it’s dangerous to assume anything.”
“That may be a nonissue,” Erron said. “After all, we’re not even sure he’s still alive.”
A hush fell over the room as this sank in. Other than putting a major crimp in my plans, I wasn’t sure exactly how to feel about the possibility that the father I thought was dead was… dead again.
“This is all making my head hurt,” I said.
“Word,” said the cat.
“What do you want to do, Sabina?” Adam asked.
“I want to get the hell out of here. The longer we’re in public, the better the chance Cain will discover we’re here and set a trap. Let’s get to the hotel and then we can figure out our next step.”
Adam nodded resolutely. “Let’s go.”
Erron turned to the Brit. “Thanks for your help, Dicky.”
He waved away the thanks. “Abel was a difficult man to be friends with, but he did me favors more than once. This was the least I could do for his daughter.” The word “daughter” made my eye twitch. But Dicky wasn’t done. “If you find him, tell him we’re square.”
“If we find him, we’ll tell him,” Adam said.
After I punch him for putting me through this bullshit, I silently amended.
Chapter 7
We made it back to the street and walked in silence for about two minutes before Giguhl broke the tension.
“So,” the cat said with exaggerated slowness, “your dad’s alive.” He sat on my shoulder and his hot cat breath added insult to the injury of his words.
“Not now, G,” I snapped.
“Sabina, we’re going to have to talk about it,” Adam said.
“I know that,” I said, picking up my pace. “Eventually. But first I need everyone to lay off so I can wrap my head around what the hell just happened.”
Adam put his arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. “Okay.”
“How about you tell us what was on that paper instead?” Erron said.
With a sigh, I switched from avoidance mode into business mode. “Okay,” I said, waving them in closer. We were huddled on a street corner. “Pasquino.”
Adam pulled back with a frown. “That’s it?”
I nodded. “That one word and a note not to trust anyone.” I glanced at Erron. “Any idea what it means?”
“No clue,” he said. “Could be anything, really.”
“Maybe we should have asked Dicky,” Adam said.
“No offense, but I don’t entirely trust that guy,” I said.
Erron waved away my apologetic tone. “Me neither. You were smart to keep it to yourself.”
“Wait a second,” Adam said. “If you didn’t trust him, why take us there?”
“Because besides the cell number no one’s answering, Dicky was my only point of contact for Abel and his team. Anyway, he can’t be all bad if Sabina’s d—” He cut himself off when I shot him a warning glare. “I mean, Tristan trusted him to keep this message.”
“Apparently Tristan’s trust was conditional, too,” Giguhl said. “Otherwise, why ward it so heavily?”
“Good point,” Erron said. “So it looks like we’re on our own to find out what this Pasquino is.”
Adam smirked. “That would have worried me more before the Internet age.”
I nodded and kept walking. In my mind, I worried over that one word and what it could possibly mean. “Pasquino,” I said, testing the word. “Could be a person.”
“Or a city or a restaurant or a street,” Adam continued, talking it out.
“Gods, why all the cloak-and-dagger bullshit?” I asked.
“Who knows?” Giguhl said with a feline shrug.
“It’s probably more productive to try to figure out the ‘what’ instead of the ‘why’ at this point,” Adam said.
By then, we’d reached the hotel where Erron had made reservations before we left New Orleans. “Here we are,” the Recreant said with a grand gesture. “Hotel Caligula!”
I looked up and my mouth fell open. The building rose ten floors and looked like a palace. “Jesus, Erron. Does the phrase ‘low profile’ mean anything to you?”
“What?” He shrugged. “This is where I stay in Rome when I’m on tour. The location can’t be beat since we’re in the center of the city. Plus, the suites are big enough for all of us and the security’s tight.”
I made a mental note not to trust a famous rock star with the sleeping arrangements again. “Rhea’s going to shit a brick when she sees the expense report,” Adam said.
“I, for one, say we deserve a little luxury,” Giguhl said.
“Of course you do,” I said, my tone arid. To Erron, I said, “I was hoping for a small apartment or something that we could easily ward against attack.”
Erron waved a hand. “No problem. I’ve reserved the penthouse so we can ward the entire floor.”
Twenty minutes later, our enthusiastic bellhop showed us into the largest suite I’d ever seen. The place was larger than the apartment I shared with Adam at Prytania Place in New York.
“Well,” Adam said, setting down my backpack, “it’s certainly… stark.”
The décor must have been planned by a dominatrix with a fetish for modern art. Everything in the place was black and white, from the parquet floors to the black leather sofa to the ebony statues of women’s torsos.
“Awesome, right?” Erron exclaimed, shoving a few euros in the bellhop’s hand. After he shut the door and locked it, he turned to give us a rundown. “Two large bedrooms—a master with a king-sized bed and a smaller one with two queens—a full kitchen, a wet bar, and a rooftop terrace with a garden.”
“Nice!” Giguhl said. “I call the biggest bedroom.”
I shot the demon a look. “Dream on. You and Erron will take the one with two beds. Also, I feel I need to remind you we’re not here on vacation. The hotel’s nice but we won’t be around long enough to pretend we’re in an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Hairless.”
“Party pooper,” the cat grumbled. “I’m gonna go check out the garden.” With that, he swung around and sashayed toward the spiral staircase leading to the roof.
Erron clapped his hands. “Let’s order some room service and get down to business.”
