“Your father…” Hannover inched back, gnawing on her lip. “He died in the war, didn’t he?”
“Heandmy grandparents.”
As she sank into the booth, her guilty eyes shifted away. “I’m so sorry.”
He scoffed. “Little late for that, Princess. My whole family died fighting for your aunt in her stupid war, and how did the greedy bitch repay us?” Hannover’s pretty face twisted in rage, and he spat, “By stealing our barony.”
Hannover jerked to her feet, and Zane smirked as she stormed towards him.
Her face was inches from his, her lips pulled back into a snarl. “Aunt Calidajustdied?—”
“And good riddance.”
As Hannover reeled back, horror twisted her features.
Then her palm cracked against his face.
He must’ve been deeper in his cups than he thought, because it took half a moment to register that she’d actually managed to land ablow, then another moment for it to sting. He pushed off the wall, closing the last of the distance between them. Her face blanched as he towered over her.
“You know how many lives she destroyed because she wanted to steal the throne from her mother?Don’t—” he growled, when she opened her mouth— “tell me there’s more to the story. Three hundred million Dalians died. None of you nobles suffered, the rich never do. Andnow, this conversation is over. Get me my money, give me my land in Avington, and stay out of my way.”
Zane flung the curtains aside and marched out of the alcove. He winced. The volume of the thumping music had shot up exponentially.
Hannover called after him, but he ignored her. Sliding onto a barstool beside Crea, he barked for the bartender to bring him the strongest drink he had.
Crea rested her hand on his thigh. “You okay?”
“I need a distraction.”
But even as she slid into his lap and pressed her lips to his, even when he came up gasping for air long enough to down a gulp of alcohol, two decades of pent-up rage lingered. And this time, it wouldn’t be easy to forget.
By four,the bar was deserted. They’d shut down the anti-gravity dance floor so the skeleton crew could clear the trash away. The nude Britirian woman dancing on a stage had an audience of two. The thumping music had dropped several octaves, and the strobe lights were set to a gentle fade in the darkness, which was a miracle. His head was throbbing.
Zane took a sip of his last cyr.
He’d closed his tab at three, after one last round of drinks. Once the money was gone, his rowdy coworkers had bailed and left him alone.
Crea had left around two. “I’m going to bed,” she’d said, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Although if you want to join me for the first round of negotiations, I wouldn’t mind company.”
He’d been tempted. It wasn’t like he’d get much sleep anyway. The nightmares made sure of that.
But he had a meeting with the big boss at nine, which left him a small window to sober up. Meeting Captain Stotz with rumpled clothes and alcohol on his breath was asking to be fired.
So he’d stayed and spent a hellish thirty minutes in the bathroom with his third Purging Tonic of the night, to flush the alcohol out of his system. Then he’d headed back to the bar for one last drink.
Zane turned his holocomm over in his hand. A holographic contact card hovered above the comm’s projector.
Mira.
Frowning, Zane stirred the dregs of his drink. It wouldn’t be breaking his promise to Hannover. He’d promised not to tell Carik. He’d never promised not to tell anyone else.
His hand hovered over the call button.
It was a win for all of them. Hannover would make it back to Dali. He’d get his money and the lordship in Avington. And Mira, whose primary clients had almost certainly hired her to find Hannover, would collect a huge payout.
But Mira had three specialties—sharpshooting, causing chaos, and blowing things up. That was exactly what he was trying to avoid.
Powering the holocomm off, Zane slumped over the counter. His eyelids crashed down like blocks of iron, but he dragged them open. He’d given up on sleep. It was never restful.
