Patrick wondered who had pissed Sage off today other than himself. “I’ll do my best.”
“Call me after the meeting. Don’t call me during. That’ll just make you look like you don’t know what you’re doing.”
Wade laughed at that, and Patrick thought about chucking a pillow at him. “I know what I’m doing.”
“We can only hope. Good luck.”
She ended the call, and Patrick shoved his phone into his pocket. “She thinks I suck at this.”
“You kind of do,” Wade said.
Patrick grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at his head.
* * *
Monicaand some of her pack were waiting for them outside the hotel when Patrick decided enough time had passed for the Chicago god pack to have made it to the neutral territory.
“Took you long enough,” Monica said.
“You’re just mad you couldn’t eavesdrop,” Patrick retorted.
Monica shrugged, not denying she’d sent someone up to their floor to try to listen in on their conversation. Wade had heard them, even if the person in question hadn’t been able to hear anything through Patrick’s silence ward.
The doorman hailed them a cab that Patrick planned to pay for with cash because he didn’t want the trip logged on a ride-share app for the SOA to track. Pack business wasn’t the government’s business.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“The Monk’s Pub,” Patrick replied.
Wade buckled up, making sure the seat belt didn’t crush his Pop-Tarts. Patrick wrote out a look-away ward on his handgun because people sometimes got uncomfortable about someone bringing a gun into a packed bar. He left his badge where it was, wanting to make it clear about his reason for being in Chicago.
It didn’t take long to get to the bar, and Monica must have called ahead about their arrival because two god pack werecreatures were standing outside waiting for them. Patrick paid the taxi driver and got out, eyeing the Monk’s Pub façade. It had been designed to look like a medieval building; the wooden doors had wards carved into the top, and the amount of witch magic emanating from the foundation told him it probably belonged to a coven.
“Our alphas are waiting for you,” the petite blonde woman said as she shoved open the bar door.
A couple more cars and taxis pulled up on the street behind them. Patrick looked over his shoulder in time to see Monica getting out of a sleek sports car. Patrick’s skin crawled with the feeling of being boxed in, and his fingers twitched toward his dagger. Wade stepped closer, arms crossed over his chest as he scowled at everyone around them.
“What if I eat them?” Wade asked.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “No. They’d taste bad. Get inside and I’ll order you food. The place has a kitchen, and you’re allowed to stay even though you’re underage so long as the kitchen is open.”
“They better have hot dogs.”
Patrick entered the bar first, a wall of warm air hitting him in the face. Glass chandeliers and other light fixtures hung from the ceiling and protruded from the walls, giving off bright light. Wooden tables were scattered around the bar counter itself, nearly every seat taken. The booths along the walls were just as full.
Recognition pulsed through Patrick’s magic, letting him know werecreatures and magic users alike were gathered in the bar, along with a decent amount of mundane humans. Patrick scanned the room, picking out the exit signs and ignoring the people who glanced their way.
“This way,” Monica said as she passed them by.
Patrick and Wade followed her deeper into the bar toward a couple of tables near the back that had been pushed together. Some seats were open, enough for the three of them to sit down. Monica took the empty seat to the right of a Native American woman whose bright amber-eyed gaze never left Patrick’s face. Next to her sat a Mexican man who sported tattoos across his bare arms that were unexpectedly familiar.
Patrick eyed the designs. “Anahuac Cartel?”
The man smiled, showing off sharp teeth. “Good guess.”
“Not a guess. I know the vampire who’s in charge of that cartel. You have his ownership inked on your skin.” Patrick reached out and tugged Wade toward an empty chair. “Sit. I’ll get you a menu when the waitress comes by.”
“I got a few,” Wade said, holding up two food menus, a drink menu, and a set of someone’s keys with a building security badge attached.
