Page 34 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“No confrontation, Porter. Do ya’ hear me?”

“Yes, D, I hear you.”

“Don’t call me that,” he groused for the dozenth time.

I smirked, tossing him a lazy salute before swinging over the railing. Darius shook his head but didn’t argue further.

It was only when I blew him a kiss that he groaned, “Lord, spare me.”

“Fuck,” I mumbled, passing the bottle back to Blaz, my legs swinging idly as I gazed out over the plantation. Below us, the landscape slowed to a peaceful crawl, buttery warmth melting across the grass, illuminating the bearded oaks and winding trunks as the sun crept down behind the manor. It was a day for rooftop perches, apparently.

“We were close—so close this time.”

We had been. I knew it to the depths of my core. The duo I’d watched vanish into the bank had reappeared a short while later, their lowered faces obscured—his by a hat, hers by a hood. Intentionally so, if I hadn’t lost my touch. I’d dropped a line to Damien Westerlund, who pulled security footage from the interior cameras, only to find they’d evaded those as well. Perfectly.

It was only once I’d followed them into a narrow alley between brick buildings that the hair on my neck stood up. I was onto something. Every goosebump confirmed as much. Right up until fucking Brody barked a demand for me to get my ass back to the truck, and when I rounded the corner—nothing. Just a swirl of shadows where the two should’ve been.

Bitterness still thick on my tongue, I muttered, “Hence. The fuck.”

Blaz snorted, taking a long pull of whiskey before holding the bottle up in offering. I wrinkled my nose. I welcomed the heat of the drink but didn’t want to muddle my thoughts before I could properly dissect them. He shrugged, smirking as he took another swig.

“I don’t think Mother Dearest would approve of you drinking on the roof with the Grayshell brat.” Darius might have instilled an ounce of sympathy for the Bellaton queen, but her tirade against my incompetence when we returned had promptly squashed it.

“What Mama doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Blaz shook his blond curls out, playfully elbowing me as the liquid sloshed in response.

“Some guard dog you are.”

“I’m only here as long as I have to be.”

“Well, we have that in common.” I snatched the bottle, pressing the neck to my lips for a tiny swig before setting it down on the opposite side. Getting him rip-roaring drunk might have been a good idea initially, but that was kid shit. I needed him sober—or close enough to it that he’d feel coherent, and I wouldn’t feel like I was taking advantage of a friend. Because that’s what he’d become in our weeks together. I wasn’t planning adjoined tombs or anything, but he was good company.

“Listen, Blaz. I need a favor.”

“This can’t be good.” His tone was flat, but his expression flashed pearly white teeth, all smiles.

“I’m going crazy here. My guard dogs are a handicap I can’t afford if I’m to win over Reyna.”

“Says the girl on her roof, drinking whiskey with her son.”

“Yes, well, what Mama doesn’t know.” I rolled my eyes. “Focus, Blaz. The point is, the three bodyguards my coven sent with me? I need to lose them.”

“Come again?”

“If I’m going to get close enough to the rat pack to learn anything, I can’t exactly have the Three Stooges looming behind me, barking orders, can I?”

Blaz narrowed his eyes. “You want me to help you ditch your escort?”

“That sums it up, yes.” Because lacing their nightcap would only work once without raising suspicion, and I hadn’t seen Ajax take a sip of liquor since I’d ransacked the Paladin’s warehouse. My escape routes needed to get more creative.

“They’re here for a reason, Freya. As am I.”

“I don’t need protectors.”

“This is a new body. Don’t get cocky.”

“A new body that got you in a chokehold twice in the last twenty-four hours. At this rate, I’ll be bailing you out, rather than the other way around.”

He snorted before huffing, “In your dreams, little Wraith.”