I down the drink, pour another one and wait for the familiar unfurling of warmth. It somehow just makes me feel worse, and I still have no idea what to do about London.
Maybe consider keeping her under lock and key until this mess is over. It’ll take her a while to forgive you, but at least she’ll be alive and out of the way.
Except I know it won’t be that simple.
We’re outmanned and outmaneuvered.
I don’t have anyone to spare to make sure London stays put, and with Carlisle on Oliver duty, there are even fewer people I trust.
London has already wormed her way into my assassin’s good graces, and I can’t risk another car accident.
There are too many eyes on the empire, too many hungry gazes clawing at the shadows and waiting for the first sign of weakness.
I refuse to give my enemies more fodder for the cannon; they have too much already.
The last thing I need is for them to sniff any kind of dissent within our ranks.
It’s bad enough that they’ve convinced Oliver to betray me; I can’t handle the thought that they’ve gotten to London, too.
London wouldn’t betray you like that. Not after what they’ve done to her. Whatever she’s trying to do, she’s doing it for good, albeit reckless, reasons.
I growl and pour myself a third glass.
The tightness in my chest finally eases, and some of the tension in my shoulders releases, but I still have no idea what to do.
How do I make London see that she’s doing more harm than good?
How do I get her to abandon her ridiculous quest without having her hate me in the process?
On my fourth drink, I stand up and walk over to the door.
When I wrench it open, the sound of pulsing music reaches me. I grip the glass tighter and venture down the hallway, my footsteps light and soundless. I reach the end of the hallway, lean against the nearest wall, and watch the main floor. My eyes sweep over the half-crowded booths and the scantily clad women traipsing about them, but it doesn’t give me the usual joy.
We haven’t been able to get a lot of our clients back.
Although it’s been weeks since news broke of the little gunfight our enemies put on, I’ve spent most of it providing expensive drinks, shaking hands, and greasing enough gears to get us back on track. I’ve even met with some of our more esteemed clients, but many of them were too spooked.
I can’t say I blame them, not when one of our selling points was privacy.
Now that it’s shot to hell, we’re relying on old-fashioned word of mouth to get us back on our feet.
And I still need to figure out a way to make Michael and Lance pay.
I want them to bleed and whimper and hurt.
I want to stand over them and deliver the deathly blow.
It’s the only thing that’ll satisfy the monster within, especially since I’ve kept my inner beast on a tight leash the past few months. I dread London coming face to face with the darkness that resides inside, and I know it’s only a matter of time before the monster rears its ugly head.
He’s a necessary evil I can’t give up if I want to stay ahead of my enemies.
It’s not like London has the moral high ground right now, especially since you caught her sneaking around.
I know London won’t view it the same way, and she’s not wrong.
What I do in the name of the empire isn’t the same as her parading around in a skimpy outfit to gather information. It’s not even close.
I don’t realize I’m scowling until a waitress inches away.
