“—open up diplomatic channels with the fae. I don’t know how receptive the fae ambassadors in DC will be after that press conference,” Patrick said.
“We’ll get the State Department brought on board. You and I both know the family is asking for a miracle though,” Henry said on the other side of the line.
Jono hadn’t ever met the SAIC for the New York City field office, but Patrick seemed to work well under him. It was nothing like the tense relationship Patrick had with SOA Director Setsuna Abuku, the woman who’d become his guardian at a young age. Theirs was a fraught relationship Patrick rarely talked about.
“I know. I’ve got my interview notes, and I’ll wait to hear from the State Department’s representative. I have some contacts I can reach out to here in the city.”
“I have a feeling this case is going to be front and center in the news for a while. If there’s any chance we can get ahead of the story, we need to take it.”
“I’ll let our PR people handle that problem. Just keep me away from the cameras.”
“That’s getting harder to do these days.”
Patrick made a face, settling his hand over Jono’s and giving it a tired squeeze. “Yeah.”
“Keep me updated, Collins.”
“Yes, sir.”
Patrick ended the call and dropped his mobile on the bed. He flopped backward with a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. “Wake me up for lunch.”
Jono snorted as he stood and started to divest Patrick of his weapons and clothes. “Get under the covers.”
“This is why you’re my favorite,” Patrick mumbled a few minutes later once he’d been stripped to his underwear and was buried beneath their blankets.
“I won’t tell Wade.” Jono leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “Sleep, love.”
Patrick was dead to the world before Jono even left the bedroom.
4
Jono pouredwhat was left of the open Tito’s Vodka into the jigger, but it didn’t come to the top. He poured the vodka into the shaker anyway before prying off the metal pourer and tossed the empty bottle in the recycling bin behind the bar. Grabbing a brand-new bottle of Tito’s from the lower storage shelves behind him, he opened it up, popped the pourer in, and finished off the ounce with a little extra in the shaker.
He shook it, poured it, and finished prepping the greyhound drink before placing it in front of the witch who had ordered it. “There you go. Ten dollars. Do you want to open a tab or no?”
“I have cash,” she said.
Jono took her money and handed back change, earning himself a couple of dollars in tips that he left on the bar counter; he’d retrieve it in a bit. Walking down the length of the bar, he picked up the bottle of cabernet sauvignon he’d left out and uncorked it, topping up Sage’s glass where she sat.
Tempest was quiet tonight; it always was these days. More than half the people in the bar were human of some sort or another, while most of the rest were magic users. He could count the number of werecreatures on one hand, but none of those who’d stopped by had made it over to the bar for whatever advice they’d come looking to get from him.
“How was work?” Jono asked.
Sage shrugged, reaching for her wineglass. “Long. Busy. We had a lot of reporters calling today for a sound bite.”
“Didn’t give it to them, I take it?”
Sage rolled her eyes. “No comment is always going to be your best answer to the press, Jono.”
He reached across the bar to tap the top edge of her mobile. “What are you reading?”
“An article about the mayor’s evening news conference. Did you see it?”
“No television here, remember?”
Tempest had been designed more toward a cozy lounge-type bar than sports bar; music had been the first and only choice over any television. With the wood paneling used in its design both upstairs and in the downstairs event area, along with the old-style amber lighting, televisions would’ve messed with the atmosphere Emma and Leon had wanted.
Jono had worked in bars of various sorts for most of his adult life. With eyes like his, steady work was difficult to come by. Discrimination might be against the law in both countries he’d lived in, but people still committed it, especially against his kind. What jobs Jono could find over the years were usually given to him by someone with ties to the preternatural world, and most of those paid under the table in cash.
