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Chapter 18
“What is it?”
Toni sat with Alessandra at their favorite table outside at Le Trousseau. They’d just ordered lunch, and both of them had been eager for the distraction—except something told her the fun part was already over. Her friend’s phone had beeped with a text alert, and Alessandra had frowned as soon as she saw the message.
“Apparently, Kenton is with Lawrence.”
A concern in and of itself. Although they’d become friendlier, they weren’t likely to hang out on their own unless forced. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. Do you mind if I make a quick call?”
“Of course not,” she said as Alessandra lifted the phone to her ear.
Through a bunch of “ums” and “uh-huhs,” Toni got the general gist of the conversation. Something bad had happened. Again. Waiting for the call to end so she could learn what Birdie would call “the scoop,” Toni looked across the street at the bank. What would it be like when Lawrence opened his bar?
Surprisingly, it was fairly easy to imagine. The bank itself would lend the place an atmosphere of elegance and refinement. But he’d also want it to be welcoming, which could be achieved with the right fabrics and colors. If it were up to her, she would use brown and yellow tones to give it a rich, kind of country club, feel.
I wonder what he’s planning for the name?
“So . . .”
She shifted her attention back to Alessandra.
“Lawrence finally heard from Laria.”
“And?”
Alessandra bit her lip, something she tended to do when she was nervous.
Oh no. “Did they not get there in time? Did Rowan and Drake get to the Cheld first?”
“Worse.”
The waiter arrived just then with their food, forcing Toni to bite back the obvious question. What could be worse than the Morley brothers killing a new Cheld before Laria could ensure his or her safety?
“Thank you,” she murmured as the waiter walked away.
“Laria texted, The Cheld is safe, but ran into some trouble. Will be fine, on way home soon.”
“That’s it?”
“Kind of. Of course Lawrence called her right away. She didn’t answer, but Torr did.”
Neither of them had met Torr, the youngest Derrickson brother.
“He said Laria would kill him for talking. She didn’t want Lawrence to worry, but something went wrong and . . .”
She leaned forward. “And?”
“Laria was nearly killed.”
“What?”
The word had squeaked out of her loudly enough that their fellow diners all glanced over at her.
“What do you mean?” She lowered her voice. “Nearly killed? By whom? Rowan? Drake?”
The Derricksons were supposed to be too strong to kill. Only aspen wood through the heart, or the complete removal of the heart or the head would kill a vampire. Movies made it seem pretty easy to pop off a head, but it wasn’t so easily done, especially with a supernaturally strong being.
