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“I have other things to do,” she said. “She’s got you doing her dirty work, too? I saw video of the fight.”
Had they broadcast the damn thing in the bar? I wondered, but knew I needed to deal with this myself.
“Then you’ll know what I’m capable of,” I said. I turned to face her, getting close enough that she took a step back. “Help, or get out of the way.”
There was clapping across the room that silenced quickly when Miranda turned her gaze toward it.
When she looked back at me, mouth open, whatever she saw in Connor’s eyes had her quieting down. “Get to the things you have to do,” he said, the words a warning.
“Okay,” I said when she stomped out of the room; I pulled on my gloves. “Let’s get to work.”
FIVE
We worked for two hours, scooping baked beans into containers, preparing pans of corn bread for transport to the conference hotel, and moving the entire feast into the Pack’s delivery van. Aluminum pans weren’t stable in the best of times, and full of barbecue and beans, they were even harder to deal with. And burning hot.
There was a rack in the back of the van with slots the pans should slide into to keep, one presumed, sauce from splattering the walls of the van during transport. But even with vampiric strength, maneuvering hot, full, and bendable trays wasn’t the easiest endeavor.
“I’m going to end up wearing it,” I muttered, trying again to match the edges of pan to rack.
“Let me help you with that,” said a voice behind me.
I glanced back, found a man with light brown skin and straight, dark hair that fell to his shoulders. His eyes were brown below dark, straight brows, and above sculpted cheekbones. His grin was wide.
“Thanks,” I said, as he gripped the other end of the tray.
“I know you can take the weight,” he said, as we lifted and slid the tray home. “But it’s awkward.”
“It is.”
He locked the tray in place, shifting so the fall of dark hair slid across his face, then pushing it away again.
“I’m Daniel Liu.” He offered a hand.
“Elisa Sullivan,” I said, and we shook. His hand was strong, his nails carefully manicured, and elegant as his dark gray trousers and black shirt.
“You manage a sword very well,” he said.
They’d absolutely shown the video in the bar. “Thank you. I was well trained.”
“So I saw.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “Do you think the AAM will continue to trouble you?”
This man was obviously Pack—the magic was undeniable—but I didn’t know which members, other than Alexei and his relatives, Connor considered trustworthy, or how much information he wanted them to have.
I settled on, “Probably. They didn’t come all this way to be turned down.”
Connor appeared around the vehicle’s corner. “Daniel. You’re just the man I wanted to see.”
Daniel’s smile widened. “Prince. I was just making Elisa’s acquaintance.”
“Good,” Connor said, closing the van door. “Daniel just joined us from Memphis. And you don’t have to call me ‘prince.’”
“Prince,” Daniel agreed pleasantly. Connor just rolled his eyes.
“Welcome to Chicago,” I said. “What brings you north?”
Daniel slid a look at Connor. “He does. Memphis has an interest in the Pack’s future, its leadership. And we support the Keene family. Since much of the Pack is still in Alaska, I was nominated to ride up and... help.”
“He means he lost a bet,” Connor translated, leaning back against the van. “So instead of running the Tongass or enjoying some Delta blues, he gets to work security and endure lake effect snow.”
