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“And it does,” Nick said. “Tasha even fits Stemmons’s profile. Young girls. Red hair, blue eyes. She’s older than he took in the past, but she looks young.”
“Caris won’t care about that,” Luke said. “But Stemmons will, and she’ll want him cooperative.”
“And if she brings Tasha into the mix, she serves Gunnolf’s purpose even while cutting you like a knife.”
“And Tasha has become both a pawn and a prize.” He drew in a hard breath, certain Caris would not hesitate to take the opportunity to destroy Tasha. To use Stemmons and his blade to cut down the innocent child that Caris believed should never have been allowed to live.
“I’ll go with you,” Nick said as they stepped onto the elevator.
“No. She’s mine.” After battling back his darkness so hard and so often, letting the serpent uncoil would be a pleasure.
Nick hesitated, his gaze dipping only momentarily to the device strapped to Luke’s chest. “All right,” he said. “But be careful. Caris isn’t one to be trifled with.”
“Neither am I,” Luke said. “What word do you have from Tiberius? I’m not inclined to return to this place after we leave, and I’m less inclined to keep this device strapped to my chest.”
Nick’s face shifted, going hard. “About that, we have a little problem.”
Luke turned, wary, the serpent starting to writhe within.
“Tiberius said to tell you that you did good work with Hasik, but that his hands remain tied.”
“Politics,” Luke said, spitting out the word, forcing himself to keep his rage under control. “I need out of this contraption, Nick. And Tiberius needs me on his team.”
“He does. But with his control over LA so strained, he’s not willing to take chances. I’m sorry, Luke,” Nick said. “You’re on your own with this one.”
Luke gave a sharp nod, clinging to control.
“It’s not over, Luke.”
“I know.” He ground out the words, then drew in a cleansing breath, forcing the rush of wild violence down. He thought of Sara, imagined her beside him, and felt the calm flow through him.
He shoved the serpent under with abrupt finality. “I’ll find a way.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Nick said as the doors slid open and he stepped out into the lower-level reception area.
“Mr. Dragos!”
He turned to face the reception desk, where a young woman with a blue braid wrapped into a cylinder upon her head waved frantically at him.
“I’m supposed to ask you to stay.”
“I believe the court has spoken otherwise.”
“Huh? Oh! No, gosh. Not for permanent. But Ms. Constantine wants a word with you and Mr. Montague before you go.”
“I see,” Luke said, impressed by the calm in his voice despite the fact that the mere mention of her name made his blood flow warm.
Nick, he saw, was watching him. “Tell Ms. Constantine that my client has enjoyed the PEC’s hospitality long enough. If she needs to speak to either of us, she has my contact information.”
“Nick.”
“I am still your advocate,” Nick said. “And if you wish me to remain in that capacity, you will follow my advice.” His expression softened along with his voice. “Luke, the path you want to walk leads nowhere.”
Luke knew that well enough, yet he refused to accept it. Impossible though it might seem, he would find a way to make Sara his.
“I will speak to her,” he said, his tone broaching no argument.
“You need to back away.” There was both warning and compassion in Nick’s voice. “Leave it. And leave her.”
