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“You authorized it,” I reminded him. “You said if there was another incident—”
“From one of my guys. This wasn’t one of my guys!”
“Then what would you call him? I thought Roy—”
“Exactly! He’s one of Roy’s guys—”
“I cannot work in these conditions!” The door blew open again and Augustine was there, in all his glittery, insect-like glory. He was blond, fashionably thin—which allowed him to squeeze past Tami—and easily as tall as Marco. Only instead of the linebacker type, he was the praying mantis type, with an elongated body draped in couture bodysuits that he designed himself and stick-thin arms and legs.
And fingers, I thought, as one was waved in my face.
“You promised me peace and quiet! You also promised me some sort of guidelines, of which I’ve received exactly nothing! You promised me—”
“Here.” I cut him off, because I didn’t have time for this, and thrust the box I’d grabbed into his arms. “That’s what I want.”
“What?” He looked at it like it was something I’d dragged in on the bottom of my shoe, despite the slick gold wrapping paper the shop had swathed it in. “What is this?”
“Open it and see.”
“Cassie—” That was Tami, giving me The Look. I’d known it since childhood, and it had never boded well.
“One second,” I told the guy on the phone, who was trying to pass me off to a subordinate.
“—my assistant will set up a time—”
“I don’t want Robin, I want you!” I snarled. “Don’t you dare go anywhere!”
“Who is that?” Marco demanded.
“Batman.”
“Very funny.”
“Mircea’s batman.”
“Oh, that prick.”
“He can probably hear you—”
“Then he’s doing better than I am,” Marco said sardonically, probably because Augustine had started screaming. Again.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked, because the man had opened the package and was now standing there shrieking at the contents, I didn’t know why. It was the gorgeous battle dress I’d seen in the mall, which was currently in its metallic silver state, the tiny, delicate-looking scales flowing like water over Augustine’s long fingers.
“Where did you get this?” he screeched. “Where? You tell me right now—”
“I’m not telling you anything until you stop screaming,” I said. “And anyway, you don’t need to know that. Just tell me you can duplicate it.”
“Auggghhhh!”
I stared at him. Genius and insanity, I thought. Augustine had finally lost it.
“Would you get him out of here?” Marco snapped at the vamp who’d just come in. “And find me that idiot of Roy’s, what’s his name?”
“D-Daniel,” croaked Daniel—I presumed—since he was still hanging from Marco’s fist.
“This is high court work,” Augustine shrieked in my face, his blue eyes wild. “Do you understand what that means?”
“No,” I said, and looked at Tami. “Listen—”
