Page 3 of Blades and Bone

Three dots appeared on his screen.

I’m working from home, come and see me.

Hamish frowned. That wasn’t a question or an invitation. It was an order.

He checked the time, even though he had hours before he started work.

I can be there in forty minutes.

That would give him time to get up, shower, and get out the door. Something about the two messages left him unsettled, even though Garrick would never put anything sensitive in a text.

Is there a problem?

I’ll see you when you get here.

Garrick didn’t answer his question, which meant there was definitely a problem, other than the Orlans creating issues for everyone by acting as if they didn’t care if humans realized vampires were real.

That they were going to speak with the Ashbys in their territory wasn’t particularly reassuring either, even though they weren’t known for making trouble. From what he knew about them, they owned land for cattle and resorts and didn’t dabble in illegal activities.

That or they were better at hiding what they were up to than anyone realized. Ann had files on all the families and the major players, which meant the other families had files on them. Was he now in an Orlan dossier?

The memory of raiding the house, and hunting and killing the other vampires still filled him with equal parts adrenaline and horror. It was as though he’d let his most unhinged inner self out and tasted the true power of being a vampire.

He ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth and felt the bumps of his fangs. Was Ann expecting trouble? Was that why she was bringing him? How many other more distant male relatives were also attending to act as bodyguards?

Like all of his male siblings and cousins, he’d been raised with the understanding that it was the women who were the most important, as they continued the bloodline and the males were their defenders. He was expected to die for the family if needed, which was not what he wanted to do.

If he’d chosen not to be blooded, he would not be ass-deep in family business. But his mother was Ann’s daughter, and while the option was there, it had never really been a possibility because of the closeness to the matriarch. Some of his cousins, who were less closely related to Ann, had chosen not to be blooded and were free to do whatever they wanted, without owing Ann any of their time.

He tried not to be jealous of them. When his fangs were down, he pitied them.

Today…he was unsure.

He liked the text and got out of bed, having wasted enough time.

* * *

Garrick’s home office overlooked a garden. It was the kind of house Hamish could only hope to afford, but the kind of house that was expected of Ann’s son. Enough to denote his status without being ostentatious. Nothing about the Reids was that bold, unlike the Orlans and the Hadleys who’d both built up large fortunes based on various criminal activities.

Trent, the human reporter they’d rescued, and Garrick’s live-in boyfriend, had greeted him and tried to show him where the office was. Hamish had laughed and made his own way. Since the door was open, he’d knocked and walked in.

“Just give me a moment.” Garrick continued typing whatever he was working on.

Hamish sat opposite and enjoyed the view of the pool and trees, knowing better than to interrupt, even though he desperately wanted to know what was going on.

It was a big deal to meet with another family.

It had to be something to do with the Orlans… There was no other explanation, but the Ashbys were a much smaller family than they were. Learning about the various families had been the least horrific part of getting blooded.

Garrick stopped typing, studied his laptop screen for a few seconds, and nodded before making a few more clicks. He turned his attention to Hamish. “We leave tomorrow at ten.”

Hamish laughed. “I’m on nights and working until six.”

“I do not recommend doing that, as it will be a busy day.”

“It’s bad enough that I’m going to have to make excuses and take leave.” Again. That was the part he hated the most about owing his family his time. Not the turning up and doing the job, but the needing to make excuses at work. He liked his job, and he didn’t like messing people around—not that he could tell the truth either. It was like being caught between two worlds, neither of which understood the other. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m not calling in sick at the last minute.”

“That would be the easiest thing, as we can arrange a doctor’s note to cover you for three days. Which should be all we need.”