And though he’d promised long ago to never again retaliate against those who were destined to hurt me, he’d been itching for a chance to confront Sam. Because he knew, just as I knew, that Sam had somehow been different. That the hurt this time had been deeper and harder to handle.
“But I am a necessity,” he continued softly. “Without me, she cannot be, and vice versa. And if you cannot understand that, if you cannot accept that, then you are more of a fool than I thought.”
Sam thrust to his feet, his fist clenched and very obviously close to losing control.
“Damn it. Get a grip, both of you!” I stepped in front of Rory, forcing him back with my body as I thrust my hands on my hips and glared at Sam. “This is neither the time nor the damn place to get into this sort of shit. Not when we have a deadline to meet and lives to save.”
Sam didn’t immediately move or react, but the muscle along his jaw was back in action. After a moment, he nodded and sat back down.
“Give me the computer.”
I held out my hand. Rory placed the computer in it, and I handed it across to Sam.
“How do we get the Trojan onto it?” I said as Sam opened the laptop.
He didn’t answer, simply fired it up and, after a few seconds, said, “Password?”
I told him. With the computer unlocked, he got onto the Internet, using his phone as a hot spot, and download a file from an e-mail account. After a few more minutes, he shut the computer down and handed it back.
“Now,” he said, voice little more than a growl. “The notebook.”
“You’ve installed the Trojan?”
“Of course.” He held out his hand. “The notebook, Emberly.”
I handed it over. He rose, his expression as still as stone but the darkness within thicker—more dangerous—than ever before. And again, it allured as much as it repelled, and I had to fight to remain exactly where I was. Though whether I would have stepped forward or back, I wasn’t entirely sure.
“As I’ve said before, be careful when you meet the sindicati. They tend not to stick to deals made with the likes of you and me.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, the honest, law-abiding types.” His mouth twisted into a smile, but it was a bitter thing to behold. “Obviously, they don’t know either of us too well.”
And with that, he walked out. I didn’t watch him leave. I didn’t need to. I could feel the deep gloom of his presence as surely as Rory’s heat at my back. When he’d gone, I released the breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding, then turned around and melted into Rory’s waiting arms.
He kissed the top of my head and said, “At least it’s over with, Em. At least you don’t have to see him again.”
“I can only hope.” But I had a bad feeling fate wasn’t about to let me off that easily. “But that’s not what matters right now. We have a Fae to save.”
“Well, I do agree with your bastard of an ex about one thing—the sindicati are not to be trusted. We need to meet them on our terms, not theirs, if we want any chance of pulling off this rescue.”
I grimaced and pulled free from his grip as a waitress finally approached. After ordering a green tea for myself and a coffee for Rory, I sat back down and said, “I’m not sure they’ll agree to a change of plans. They hold the cards, not us.”
“If they want what we have, they’ll play the game. At least until we hand over the laptop.”
“Maybe.” I wasn’t too confident, but I guess we really had nothing to lose by trying. “Sam said they have a liking for marksmen placed on high, so we need to factor that in.”
He pulled out a chair and sat down. “We could always go up to the rock. While it does provide plenty of places for a marksman to hide, I can easily keep watch from the sky.”
The rock he meant was Hanging Rock, a recreational reserve that featured a large mamelon formation. Rory often went up there after hours for some flight time during the long golden sunsets of the summer months, because the surrounding areas were farmlands and the chances of being seen were few. While I did go up there occasionally, he was far more familiar with the area than I was.
I frowned. “Do you think they’ll agree to meet that far out of town?”
“We’re dealing with the vampire mafia, remember. Trust me when I say they won’t want anything too public, especially if they’re planning a few nasty surprises of their own.” He smiled up at the waitress as she delivered our drinks, then added, once she’d left, “Our main problem will be getting them to agree to dusk rather than night.”
“True.” I dunked my tea bag into the mug of hot water and watched the bubbles rise as it sank. And hoped like hell it wasn’t an omen for things to come.
Rory’s hand slid across mine, his grip warm, comforting. “It’ll be all right, Em.”
I smiled, but it felt tight. Fake. “Will it? I have a bad feeling about all this, and it’s a real risk for both of us to be there.”
“Vampires can’t fly,” he said reasonably. “So as long as I keep to the skies, we’ll be fine.”
Yeah, we would, but we both knew that he wouldn’t keep to the skies, not if things started going bad on the ground—just as I wouldn’t, if the situation were reversed. It was one of the reasons we’d agreed that the two of us should never again get jointly involved in dangerous situations—the need to protect each other was so much a part of our psyche that we not only placed our very existence at risk, but the chance of rebirth. As he’d noted to Sam, one could not be without the other.
I leaned back in the chair and regarded him for several seconds. “Promise me you’ll keep to the skies. That you won’t get involved in the fight if things go to hell on the ground.”
He hesitated. “I promise I’ll keep to the skies unless I see a sharpshooter. Them, I’ll take out. Fair enough?”
“Fair enough.”
“Then ring them and make the meet.”
I took a deep, somewhat quivery breath that didn’t do a whole lot to calm the butterflies suddenly going nutso in my stomach. I might have lived many lifetimes, but I’d never been one to march boldly into dangerous situations. “Avoidance was the better part of valor” tended to be the code I lived by.
But I dug out my phone and made the call regardless. After all, this wasn’t about me. It was about Jackson. About saving his life if it was at all possible.
“Well, well,” a cool and familiar voice said. “You report in far earlier than any of us predicted.”
“That’s because I have no desire to prolong these proceedings any more than necessary.” My voice was surprisingly calm given all I could suddenly think about was his teeth tearing into my neck. “I’ve looked for the notebook and I can’t find it. I do, however, have the laptop on which the notes were typed.”
“And is the file on said laptop untampered with?”
“I haven’t opened it,” I replied, and thanked the stars I’d listened to Sam and hadn’t tried to tamper with the notes themselves. “You can check the date it was last accessed when we do the swap, if you want.”
“Oh, I will,” he murmured. “Now, as to the swap—”
“Not so fast,” I cut in. “I want proof that Jackson Miller is alive first.”
“I gave you my word that he would be.”
“You did,” I said. “But past dealings with vampires have left me a little less inclined to trust a promise given by one.”
“That is unfortunate.” Though there was still little in the way of emotion to be heard in the vamp’s tone, trepidation stepped through me. He really didn’t like having his integrity questioned in any way, and I had a feeling doing so was a bad, bad idea.