“Who’s Martha?”
“I don’t know what’s transpired since yesterday, but I’m in your debt once over. If Viktor brings you back into the fold, don’t ask me to trust you. My debt won’t be paid in the form of loyalty; that’s not something I’ll do.”
Debts in the Breed world were the most valuable asset a man could have. “You can’t pick and choose what I ask.”
He gave a mirthless smile, and his fangs descended. “Tread carefully. I’ll pay my debt when you ask, and then we’ll be square.”
“You’re nothing but an arrogant, poorly dressed, egotistical, sadistic Vamp who can’t play nice in the sandbox. Did I step on your pride tonight? It’s not my fault that you let your guard down and someone put you in that coffin. Maybe if you’d had a partner on the job with you, that wouldn’t have happened. You can’t even do your own laundry.”
Christian’s fangs retracted, and a slow chuckle settled in the back of his throat. He tilted my chin up until our eyes met. “Has anyone ever told you how fetching you are?”
“Oh,Christian,” Wyatt sang from outside.
I weaved out of his clutches. “You smell like the dead.”
He dusted off his clothes and strode outside. “So where’s the little numpty who works for Darius? The one you squeezed for information.”
“In the trunk of my car.”
He pinched his beard, giving the mausoleum a thoughtful glance. “I think I have just the spot to put him. If the bastard who staked me returns, he’ll be in for a surprise.” Christian cupped his hand around his mouth, his voice loud and sonorous when he yelled, “Feck you, Martha Cleavy!”
“Shut the hell up,” Wyatt snapped, jogging back down the hill. “Don’t piss off the dead!”
I glanced up at Christian. “Did you see the guy who staked you?”
His jaw clenched, making his cheekbones appear taut. “No.”
“Whoever it was knew Darius, but Darius didn’t know him. At least, that’s what Salvator said. The question is: did this guy know you, or was he just seizing an opportunity to get a favor out of Darius?”
“Hard to say. Men will do most anything to earn a favor. That might explain why he didn’t say a word to me, unless the gobshite was a mute.”
We reached the bottom of the incline to find Claude leaning over the trunk of Salvator’s sedan.
“Look what we found,” Claude said.
Christian clapped his hand on Claude’s shoulder. “I’ve devised a plan for our hostage.”
“Good. Because I don’t like the scent he’s putting out.”
Chitahs had four canines—two on the top and two on the bottom. When provoked, the teeth slid into view, and a Chitah’s fangs were deadly weapons against a Mage. They could tear flesh, but they also delivered toxic venom that could paralyze or kill a Mage, depending on how many teeth punctured the skin.
He peeled back his lips, tapping his hand on the trunk. Seeing those fangs gave me pause, and I took a step back.
Ahead of the car, the Keystone van sped off, leaving deep tire marks in the dirt.
“Where are they going?” I asked.
Claude stood up and ruffled his hair. “To wait for us at the club. Viktor wants to celebrate.”
“Who’s us?”
“You, me, and the witches three. I’m guessing he has something to discuss with you.”
I arched my brows with a look of skepticism. “I thought he didn’t want everyone to be seen together?”
“The only people who know we’re connected—aside from trusted friends—are dead anyhow. Viktor’s version of a party always involves business, and it sounds like he has a few ideas about what we’re going to do about Darius.”
I patted Christian’s shoulder. “Well, with that new cologne you’re wearing, if you go missing again, shouldn’t be a problem tracking you down.”
