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“Something like…”
“Like he plans to fire your ass,” Ray informed me, digging through the fridge. “What? You guys got no beer?”
“What?”
“Beer. Alcohol. Booze. Hell, I’m desperate. I’ll even drink that light crap—”
“Not you,” I said, and jerked him out before he found the Guinness. And turned back to see Claire looking mulish.
“Want to run that by me again?”
“He didn’t say…he just agreed with me.”
“About what?”
“About the fact that you could have died, Dory!” she said, slamming her wooden spoon down. “If they can kill a master, they can kill you!”
“‘They’ didn’t kill a master. ‘They’ ambushed us like the pathetic wastes of flesh—”
“They arranged it,” Claire said, thrusting out her chin.
“Yeah. And I’m going to arrange a little something as soon as I figure out—”
“He said you’d say that.”
“Gonna be hard to go on a rampage without backup,” Ray pointed out, climbing back onto his stool with one of my longnecks.
“I’ll have backup,” I said grimly, reaching for my phone before I remembered: mine was currently waterlogged. So I grabbed the house phone off the wall and punched in a number I’m not supposed to have.
“What the hell?” I demanded.
The vampire on the other end of the connection snorted. At least, that’s what the sound would have been called if I had uttered it. But when you wore Brioni tuxedos because Armani was too common, it was called “expressing disapproval.”
“Dorina. How did you obtain this number?”
“I got tired of going through your boys. According to them, you’re always out or you’re always busy.”
“Which is frequently the case. And you did not answer the question.”
“How about you answer one first.”
“Such as?”
“Such as I let you into my head and now I’m fired?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. Because I have a few ideas about—”
“You’re suspended.”
“I’m—what?”
“It is merely temporary.”
“Why?” I asked harshly. “Because I let Lawrence get killed?”
“You didn’t ‘let’ Lawrence do anything. Lawrence was the senior member of that team. If anything, he let you down—”
