But he had one other option. Someone who owed him a favor.
"Viktor," the voice answered on the second ring. "This better be important, Hale."
"I need a discreet pick-up. Van or SUV with tinted windows."
A pause. "You working?"
"Something like that."
"Text me the address. I'll be there."
Simon sent the location and pocketed his phone. He couldn’t wait in this stairwell with that guard potentially checking floors. Maybe even with back-up.
"We're going to the basement," Simon told Charlie. "Less chance of running into people.”
"Smart." Charlie's voice was getting stronger, more coherent. "Simon?"
"What?"
"Thank you. For coming back."
Simon didn't answer, just started down the last flights of stairs toward the parking level.
Chapter
Twenty
The black van pulled into the parking garage twelve minutes later. Its windows were tinted so dark it had to be illegal.
Simon recognized Viktor's driving. He took his turns a little too fast and hit the brakes just before he had to, as if he still thought he was invincible.
The van stopped three spaces away. The driver door opened.
Viktor looked different. Fuller somehow. Less like he was held together with caffeine and determination. His hair had grown out from the military cut the Organization preferred, and he'd put on muscle that wasn't just functional. He looked healthy. Human.
Happy.
Simon didn't know what to do with that.
Viktor didn't give him time to ponder his response, regardless. His expression shifted the moment he got close enough to really see them. His pace slowed, nostrils flaring.
"Jesus, Simon." Viktor's gaze tracked from Charlie's huddled form to the blood on Simon's sleeve. "This your target?"
"We need to go."
Viktor opened the van's side door without asking more questions, though his eyes lingered on the way Charlie had his face pressed against Simon's throat.
Simon climbed in, maneuvering carefully to keep the blanket in place. The moment he tried to set Charlie on the bench seat, Charlie made a wounded sound, fingers twisting in Simon's jacket.
"Don't go." The words came out slurred, desperate.
Hell.
What was a man to do?
Simon stayed on the floor of the van, back against the wall, Charlie still in his lap.
It was more practical this way. Easier than fighting an injured vampire.
