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De Froulay’s breath hissed in. “I know nothing about that, I promise you.”
I waited a beat.
De Froulay didn’t disappoint me. “You think Moreau’s behind this as well.”
“I’d say it’s a certainty. Whoever succeeded in killing us was to apply to Moreau for payment.”
“I see,” he said grimly. “As soon as we’re done here, I’ll issue an order revoking the hit. I assure you, I knew nothing about this. Any of it. My apologies to both you and Zaquiel. And to you, Karoly. My only excuse is he was an old friend, and I trusted him.”
“About Moreau?” I added. “If you need a cover story for your people, tell them he’s been imprisoning members of other syndicates and treating them as blood slaves. It’s the truth. I saw it myself.”
Karoly’s gaze shot to Zaq, and his lips pressed into a hard line.
“Prince Zaquiel?” De Froulay sounded shocked and angry. “He actually drank his blood?”
Zaquiel stiffened, and I squeezed his waist. “Yeah, but keep his name out of it. It wasn’t only Zaq, either. Moreau and the Tremblay prima threatened to sell Prince Rafael to a brothel if Zaq didn’t do exactly as he was told. I’m guessing there may be others, too. The thralls in his lair, for instance.”
Karoly held out his hand. “Let me speak to Leo.”
I gave him the phone, and the two primuses got down to planning our next move.
I tried to pay attention, but I was still reeling from the revelation that Moreau was the vampire who’d murdered my mom. How could I have lived in his lair for close to a month without recognizing him? But then, I hadn’t gotten a good look at him or the other vampires.
Zaq kept me close, stroking my back and generally radiating calm. I turned my head and took another deep inhale of his Zaq-scent, and that calmed me further.
Karoly ended the call. “It’s all arranged. You leave for Paris tomorrow night. I’ll have my PA prepare new identities and passports for you both. I assume whatever aliases you used to enter the country have been compromised.”
“Yes. My alpha arranged the passports.”
He nodded. “My PA will book a hotel for you in Paris, too. When you arrive in Paris, spend the day there. Leo will text your instructions to this phone.”
Karoly turned to Zaq. They eyed each other. Then Zaq released me and took a step toward his father. They gave each other awkward man-hugs and broke apart.
“Take care,” Karoly told Zaq. “Your mother will never forgive me if you get yourself staked.”
“I will. I have to do this.” Something dark moved over Zaq’s face. “I have to.”
“Understood,” his father replied. “I would expect nothing else from one of my sons.”
Zaq’s dark expression morphed into a crooked grin. “Exactly.”
I wasn’t real up on the nuances of father-son interactions, but I could tell that Zaq was proud of Karoly’s implication that Zaq was like him. I disagreed—Zaq was a way better person in my opinion—but I chalked it up to being a guy-thing.
Karoly turned to me. “Moreau won’t be easy to kill. I trust you’re as good as they say you are.”
My smile was all sharp white teeth. “I’m the best.”
We arrived at JFK Airport early Friday evening. Our cover was a Kral enforcer—that would be me, my hair glamoured a golden blond, my face borrowed from a New Orleans enforcer who’d been ordered to stay out of sight for a few days—traveling with her human PA, Zaq.
I’d loaded up on blades, the two I’d already borrowed from Zaq and another two that I had stowed in my overnight bag. I also had a thin silver stiletto concealed in the back of each boot. The boots were the only things I had on that were my own. I was wearing all new clothes, courtesy of Zaq, who’d put in a clothing order with a personal shopper via Xavier.
Within two hours, I’d been completely outfitted: two pairs of black tactical pants, a stack of tees and ribbed tanks, and a fitted jacket in a light green leather so soft I wanted to pet it. Also: A couple of tight dresses (one red, one black), short red boots with heels I could actually walk in, and a half-dozen exercise bras and boyshorts.
There was also a stack of sexy underwear that Zaq had picked out himself. I fingered a sheer red chemise and cut my eyes at him, half-amused, half-turned on.
“For later.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind and nuzzled my neck. “When I finally get you alone.”
Something sparked in my chest—optimism. Maybe we really would have a ‘later.’
