“It can’t be a difficult task,” Carmen said. “They do it for you.”
Patrick wanted to argue that wasn’t true, but he’d be lying if he did. Setsuna did her best to cover for him while he followed the gods’ orders, but even she had limits. So far, his ability to get the job done despite the property destruction was enough of a defense against the resentment he ran into. He knew that wouldn’t hold up forever.
“Diplomatic immunity. Right. I’ll pass it along,” Patrick said.
“You have twenty-four hours,” Lucien said.
Patrick scowled. “That’s not enough time to make the government agree on anything.”
Lucien smiled, fangs pricking his pale lips, all the blood licked clean. “Twenty-four hours. If my terms aren’t met, then the deal is off the table and you lose the staff.”
“You lose your food if the Dominion Sect turns Earth into a brand-new hell,” Jono shot back.
“Then consider the deadline an incentive to get shit done.”
Patrick dug out his cell phone and dialed Setsuna’s latest burner phone number. The signal wasn’t the best inside Ginnungagap, but it eventually connected. When the line rang, he hung up. He repeated the action two more times before calling a fourth time and staying on the line. It picked up after the fifth ring.
“I’m about to leave for a hearing. Make it quick,” Setsuna said.
“My criminal informant will agree to show up if we give them diplomatic immunity. The deal is on the table for twenty-four hours,” Patrick said, giving the news in the bland descriptions like they’d agreed on. They were risking a phone call now because they didn’t have time for Patrick to fly back and forth as a courier.
Setsuna sucked in a sharp breath. “Understood. I’ll relay the terms.”
She hung up and Patrick shoved his phone back into his pocket. He raised an eyebrow at Lucien. “Happy?”
“We’ll let our lawyer take a look at whatever contract the government comes up with,” Carmen said.
“You have a lawyer on retainer?”
“Don’t sound so shocked. Anyone can be bought for the right price.”
“We’re buying you,” Lucien pointed out.
“The hell you’re buying me. I’ve been off the market since I was eight,” Patrick said.
Lucien slipped free of Carmen’s arms, sauntering toward them. Jono took a step forward, not getting in the way of Patrick’s line of sight, but making his presence known nonetheless. Jono and Lucien had gone toe-to-toe several times in the past, both of them fighting to a draw.
“Twenty-four hours,” Lucien said, keeping his attention on Patrick. “Now get out of my fucking club.”
Patrick turned his back on Lucien when smarter people never did. He knew Jono would keep him safe. He also knew Lucien was bound by a promise he’d made to his mother to keep Patrick alive in the fight against the Dominion Sect.
Patrick still expected to be stabbed in the back one day.
Jono’s footsteps behind him drew closer until they were walking side by side. They left Ginnungagap for the muggy heat outside, city noises rushing back into his ears once they crossed the threshold. Patrick pulled the collar of his T-shirt away from his scarred chest, trying to get some air flowing against his skin.
“We should get everyone together for a pack meeting,” Patrick said.
Jono beeped the alarm off and opened the driver’s-side door while Patrick looped around to the other side. Jono looked over the top of the car at him. “Do you want to call them, or should I?”
“You drive. I’ll call.”
“Where are we meeting them?”
“Marek’s place. It won’t be as crowded.”
Their two-bedroom apartment in a Chelsea brownstone could handle their close group of friends, but Patrick had been cooped up in committee rooms and airplanes for the past week. He wanted space, and Marek owned an entire Art Deco building in the Upper East Side. Pack meetings were easier to conduct there when they needed to include people other than the four that made up their god pack.
“Everyone’s working,” Jono reminded him.
