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Had Isa figured out what Odin had been doing these past fourteen months, or was he here because of what’d been said at the gala? He had to have known that Odin’s invitation to visit Club Cherry had been a jest.
“I’ll be right there. Block that area off, don’t let anyone near that isn’t Brumal,” he ordered. No matter his reasons for coming, Isa being here couldn’t be a good thing.
Odin shoved his multi-slate back into his pocket and turned to Hunter. “Stay here.”
“What’s going on?” He sat up in the center of the bed but didn’t make any moves to get off it.
This didn’t mean Odin was buying the innocent act.
“I’m serious, Huntsman,” he warned. “If I found out you’ve left this room, you won’t like the consequences. It’ll lock the second I leave, and only I will be able to enter again, so you’ll be safe here.”
“Tell me what’s going on,” he insisted, but Odin didn’t have time to waste explaining things.
Besides, all it would do was make Hunter worry, and he didn’t want that. He couldn’t be distracted by thoughts of Hunter in here having a panic attack while he was out there attempting to handle Isa.
Best to keep him in the dark, where he belonged.
“It doesn’t concern you,” Odin told him. Because it didn’t. Nothing here did.
The past didn’t change that. And neither did this twisted feeling in his gut that urged him not to walk away from the guy.
Odin didn’t listen to it, heading for the door. He made sure the automatic lock was switched on so that the second he left, it would lock behind him and he paused with his hand hovering just above the keypad.
“Just,” he glanced back over at Hunter, “stay here for now. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Trust me.”
Without waiting for a response, he left the room, heading down the hallway and weaving through the club toward the back, where even more exclusive rooms were kept for important…guests. He passed a couple of drunks on the way, as well as a couple groping each other in the semi-darkness of the halls, but for the most part, this section of the club had been left undisturbed.
Both Corbi and Loni greeted him outside the wide double doors to Greeting Six, the room typically reserved for welcoming people like the police commissioner.
The second he’d met with Hunter, he’d sent Loni back, but now that he was here, he wanted her to return to the Huntsman in case anything happened in his absence. He was about to give the order when a loud crash from within the room caught his attention, and he rushed beneath the threshold, already primed for a fight.
The room was decked out in a mixture of golds, blacks, and reds, with an L-shaped couch in the center, a smaller two-seater positioned across from it, and a coffee table between them. On the opposite side of the entrance, a minibar was set up, three shelves lined with the most expensive liquors on Sanctum sparkling in crystal decanters.
Isa was seated in the center of the couch, one arm propped over the back, a mostly filled glass in his other hand. He was dressed in a pale blue three-piece suit, a harsh contrast to all the leather and black in the room.
Vetle was facing off at the end of the couch against First, his weapon drawn and aimed, and he was fuming.
It didn’t take long for Odin to figure out where the sound had come from. A single bartender was hunched behind the bar, shaking as he peered around the corner over at the two men and their guns.
Odin heaved a heavy sigh, drawing attention his way, and slid his hands into his front pockets. Once he had the bartender's attention, he motioned with his chin sharply over his shoulder.
The man didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted from his poorly thought-out hiding spot and practically raced from the room.
“All I asked was if he had any ban,” Isa said innocently, swirling the dark amber contents of the drink in his glass.
“Did you ask him with First’s gun?” Odin clucked his tongue in disgust and moved over to the two-seater, dropping down into it with more calm than he was feeling. He waved at Vetle. “It’s fine, stand down.”
“Sir.”
“Now, V.” He met Isa’s gaze challengingly. “First isn’t going to shoot you.”
“No,” Isa chuckled, the sound deep and rumbly, then similarly motioned to his own underboss. “You heard the man. We didn’t come here to fight.”
“Why did you come?” Odin was careful not to watch as the two men lowered their guns and stepped away from one another, pretending he wasn’t concerned about their antics. In reality, he was unnerved.
Isa lifted a finely trimmed brow. “You invited me, brother.”
“Ah.” He hadn’t been serious, and they both knew it. “Since you’re here, you’re welcome to—”
