LIKE A BOSS

I froze, realizing for the first time - and much too late - that we weren't alone in the office. I clenched my eyes closed, embarrassment rising on my cheeks. So much for keeping our infiltration of the raves under wraps.

A few seconds later, I finally opened my eyes again, expecting to see fury in Ethan's. Instead, he offered a gently chastising look.

Maybe he had changed.

"I'm so sorry," I mouthed, before turning to Darius. He stood with Malik and Luc, in the office's sitting area in front of leather furniture that hadn't been there on my last visit. Helen did efficient work.

Darius was tall and lean, with a shaved head and blue eyes. His features were sharp and nearly arrogant - straight nose, wide mouth, aristocratic chin marked by a perfect cleft.

"That's a very interesting tale you weave," he said. Darius's accent was clearly English; his diction would have made the queen proud.

"Come have a seat. Ethan, won't you join us, as well?"

I had a sense the request was actually an order, so I took a seat on one of the leather chairs that faced the couch. As Ethan followed me over, Luc and Malik took seats on two end chairs. Ethan took the chair beside me.

Darius sat on the couch, then reached into his pocket and removed a slim, silver case. He popped it open and pulled out a thin black cigarette. It wasn't until he'd lifted it to his mouth that he looked at Ethan for permission.

"Be my guest," Ethan said, but it was clear he wasn't thrilled about Darius smoking in the House.

Cigarette at the corner of his mouth, Darius tucked the case back into his pocket and pulled out a book of matches. He lit one, leaving a sulfurous sting in the air, and touched it to the end of the cigarette before putting it out with a flick of his wrist. He dropped the wasted match into a heavy crystal dish on the coffee table that sat in the middle of the ring of furniture.

He puffed for a moment, then lifted a single eyebrow - I guess we now knew where that tic of Ethan's had come from - and blew a stream of fragrant smoke from the side of his mouth.

"In this political climate," he began, "with these challenges, you sent your Sentinel to a rave?"

"I'm not sure it was a rave," I put in, trying to salvage what I could. "We believed it might be a rave - or something calling itself a rave - but this is on a different scale. Very large, and very violent."

"Raves are always violent," Darius said. "That is the nature of a rave."

I opened my mouth to disagree, but thought better of it. After all, since I'd seen only one rave, he'd definitely know better than I whether the bloodlust was unusual.

"What is atypical," he continued, "is an official House staff member being utilized to infiltrate such things."

"Infiltration was our only option," Ethan said.

Darius's face radiated disbelief, and his tone was deadpan. "Your only option."

Ethan cleared his throat. "Seth Tate informed us that he'd learned of the alleged murder of three humans by vampires. He has a warrant for my arrest in hand, and has threatened to execute that warrant within the week if we don't solve the problem. The opportunity to investigate arose, and we took it."

"Did he execute the warrant?"

"Not yet, but he - "

"Then you had options," Darius said, in a tone that brooked no argument and reminded us all that while Ethan was Master of the House, Darius was master of the Houses.

And then he turned his cold blue gaze on me.

"You're the Sentinel."

"I am, Sire."

"You look rather a mess."

I had to work not to smooth down my hair and my wrinkled tank top. I'd slept in my clothes, and while I'd cleaned up a little at Grey House, I'm sure I still looked pretty awful. On the other hand, I looked awful because I'd been working, not because I lacked basic hygiene skills.

"I was on an assignment, Sire."

"Such as it was," Darius muttered. "And you're just now returning to the House? You have traversed Chicago looking like this?"

I waited to give Ethan a chance to offer silent suggestions, to tell me what I was or was not supposed to tell Darius - although the cat was mostly out of the bag. When he stayed silent, I assumed that was permission enough and told the truth - and nothing more.

"It was late, Sire. We were running close to sunrise."

The cigarette in his fingers, Darius wet his lips, and slowly shifted his gaze to Ethan. "Now is the time to perfect the public image, to sweeten and sharpen it, not send it rumpled and trashed through the city like some kind of well-used party girl."

I went stiff at the insult; Ethan stirred in his chair. "She is a soldier. That her battlefield is unusual doesn't make it any less a battlefield, nor does it make the uniform any less a uniform."

I appreciated that he'd taken the hit for me, stood up for what some believed was my "mere" status as a soldier for the House. And, honestly, what more honorable service was there? Making decisions from a continent away in a dress shirt, smoking cigarettes from a silver box?

I lifted my chin and met Darius's gaze. "I am a soldier," I confirmed. "And I have no qualms about that."

His eyebrows lifted with interest. "And you've returned from a battle."

"In a manner of speaking."

Darius sat back in his chair again. "You said tonight's event, whatever it might have been, was unusually violent." He took another puff, the suspicion clear on his face. "You've been to another rave? You have a basis for comparison?"

"I haven't," I admitted. "The comparison is based on information from other sources, and the one site I visited after the fact. Our intelligence says raves in Chicago are few and far between, and that - perhaps to avoid risk of detection  - they're usually very intimate affairs. A few vampires at most. That's not what we saw last night."

"Although I disagree with your conclusions, that's not a bad report." He turned to Ethan. "I can see why you like her, Ethan."

"She's more than capable," Ethan agreed.

"But I assume an update on our Sentinel's work is not what brought you across the pond?"

Darius leaned forward and mashed the rest of the cigarette into the ashtray. "Matters in Chicago are, as you know, escalating. Shifters. Rogues. The attack on your House."

Ethan crossed one leg over another. "As you've seen, those things are in hand."

"Those things suggest a decided lack of organization and political control among the Illinois Houses. When Celina was removed, you became the most senior Master in Chicago, Ethan. It is your responsibility, your duty to the Presidium, to maintain stability within your domain."

And he would have, I thought, if you'd

managed to keep Celina in England where she belonged.

"What does that mean?" Ethan asked.

"It means there's a significant chance that Cadogan House will be placed into receivership by the Presidium until Chicago is under control."

I didn't need to know the details of a "receivership" to get the general idea - the GP was threatening to take over the House.

The room went silent, as did Ethan. The only sign he'd even heard Darius's threat was the telltale line of concern between his eyes.

"With all due respect, Sire, there's no need for impetuous action." Ethan's tone was carefully neutral, his words carefully modulated. I knew he was bursting with emotion - there was no way Ethan wasn't boiling over at the possibility that the GP was going to step in and take over his House. But he was doing an impressive job of keeping his emotions under control.

"I'm not entirely sure that was duly respectful, Ethan. And as I'm sure you'll appreciate, placing one of the American Houses into receivership isn't something the Presidium takes lightly. It raises uncomfortable memories."

"Uncomfortable?" I asked. I probably shouldn't have spoken, being the least-ranking vampire in the room, but sometimes curiosity won out.

Darius nodded. "The American Revolution was a difficult time for the British and American Houses, as you might imagine. The GP hadn't yet been formed - that was still decades down the road - and the Conseil Rouge retained power.

Being French, the Conseil supported the colonies' freedom. Being British, we did not."

I nodded my understanding. "And immortality being what is, some of those colonists are still alive in the American Houses."

"Indeed."

"An excellent reason," Ethan put in, "to preclude discussion of receivership."

"The discussion is already under way, Ethan. I know you don't approve of the Presidium or the actions we've taken, but we have rules and processes for a reason."

So Celina can ignore them? I wondered.

There was a knock at the door, which opened a little. A man tidily dressed in cuffed trousers, button-up shirt, and suspenders - only his wavy brown hair askew - looked inside. "Sire, your call with New York Houses is ready." His voice was equally British and posh; he must have been part of Darius's retinue.

Darius glanced up and over. "Thank you, Charlie. I'll just be a moment."

Charlie nodded, then disappeared through the door again. When he was gone, Darius stood up.

The rest of us did the same.

"We'll chat later," Darius said, then nodded at me. "Good luck with your continued training."

"Thank you, Sire."

When he was gone, and the door was closed again behind him, silence reigned. Ethan put his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his hair.

"Receivership," Luc repeated. "When was the last time that happened?"

"Not since the financial meltdown before World War II," Malik answered. "Many, many years."

"He's being unreasonable," I said, glancing around at them. "None of this is Cadogan's fault.

It's Adam Keene's fault. It's the GP's fault - Celina's fault. We're reaping the consequences of their bad acts, and now he wants to put the GP in charge of the House?"

Ethan sat up straight again. "That's the long and short of it. A receiver would come into the House, begin an investigation of House procedures, and have the authority - the GP-granted authority - to approve every decision that's made in this House, regardless of how big or small. A receiver would report every decision back to the GP, including Darius, including Celina."

Ethan looked up at me, his green eyes icy cold.

"And I have to wonder whether he'd be raising the issue if our Sentinel hadn't just informed him that Chicago was heading to hell in a handbasket." So the calm, unruffled, forgiving Ethan had been an act for Darius.

Unfortunately for him, we'd come too far for me to be intimidated by a snarky phrase or nasty look. I'd gone out and faced danger for him and the House, and I wasn't about to shrink away because he didn't like the consequences. I gave him back the same stare.

The room went silent, until Ethan barked out an order, his gaze still on me. "Excuse us, please."

When no one budged, he glanced around the room. "I wasn't asking for permission."

That was enough to send Luc and Malik scurrying out the door, both of them offering me sympathetic looks.

It wasn't until we were alone, the door shut behind them, that Ethan finally looked away. For a full minute, he sat quietly, his back rigid.

Finally, he walked back to his desk and settled himself behind it, putting space - and furniture  - between us.

I'd known him long enough to call it "typical Sullivan." It was the kind of action we could have added to the Ethan Sullivan drinking game, falling somewhere between his imperious eyebrow arching and his habit of referring to any Novitiate in his House by position, rather than by name.

"Sentinel," he finally said, linking his fingers on his desk.

I took a step forward, intent on making him believe how much I regretted what I'd inadvertently told Darius. "Ethan, I am so sorry.

You were on the phone, and it didn't even occur to me to see if anyone was behind me."

He held up a hand. "You told him where you'd been. I am not sure whether to throttle you now or simply hand you over to the Presidium and let them do it."

If I were him, I'd throttle me, too. I just nodded.

When Ethan finally looked at me again, there was desperation in his eyes.

"A receiver. In my goddamned House. A House I have watched, guided, parented when necessary. Do you know what an insult that is?

To have an administrator - some organizational specialist who couldn't guide vampires with a map and compass - replacing me? Telling me what I've done right or wrong, how I should 'fix' the things I've broken."

My heart clenched sympathetically. It must have been hard to hear that not only was the supreme leader of vamps not happy with your work, but he was considering sending someone across the pond to make sure the work was done correctly. It wouldn't have thrilled me, either.

And the worst part? This was at least partly my fault. I mean, it seemed unlikely Darius would have traveled this far if he didn't have concerns about the House, but that didn't mean I hadn't pushed him over the receivership edge.

"This House is old, Merit. It is a respectable House. The appointment of a receiver is a slap in the face." He looked away, shaking his head ruefully. "How can I not take that as an insult to all that I've done since Peter's death?"

That Peter was Peter Cadogan, the House's namesake and first Master. The man who'd held the reins until his death, when Ethan took over.

"I would take it personally, too."

Ethan barked out a laugh. "It's hardly that I take it personally, Sentinel. It's that it's a slap against me and Malik, Luc, Helen - the entire staff. Every Initiate Commended, every Novitiate who has served. Every sacrifice made. You essentially told him we don't have things in hand."

"We don't if what we saw last night is commonplace. This wasn't half a dozen vampires and a couple of humans, Ethan. There were dozens of vamps, dozens of humans. The party was huge, and it was loud, and it wasn't just about a little private sip."

"So it wasn't a rave."

"Not the kind of raves we knew about before.

The vamps were on edge, the magic thick. Vamps were picking fights all over the place."

"Did you and Noah have to defend yourselves?"

I hated lying to Ethan. Hated it. But it wasn't fair of me to clear my conscience at Jonah's expense, so I sucked it up and played out the story.

"Defend ourselves, yes. We weren't involved in any fighting of consequence, although things got nasty when we made our exit. I'd found a human who needed help - drugged or glamoured; I'm not sure which. She needed out, and there were a few vamps who weren't happy to see her go. Noah spilled blood as a distraction, and the vamps went crazy. The place erupted with fighting, but we got her out and sent her home.

She was grateful enough - embarrassed enough - that I don't think she'll cause us problems down the road."

I sighed and looked away. "I hate saying that, Ethan. It mortifies me that I have to think about a woman who's been in a bad position as a liability. She was made a commodity by those vampires. That shouldn't happen twice. Not by us."

I looked back at him, and appreciated the sympathy in his eyes.

"You are a very human vampire," he affectionately said.

"So you say."

"I once considered it a liability. And for some vampires, I still do. But for you - let us hope they don't bleed it out of you."

We were quiet for a moment, just looking at each other. I finally broke the silence. I reached into my pocket, pulled out the envelope, and handed it to him. "This is why we think the humans may have been drugged."

Ethan inspected the envelope, then dropped the pills into his hand. "What's V?"

"Don't know. I'm assuming it stands for 'vampire.' And the punch line? The human who gave this to me, Sarah, had learned about the rave at Temple Bar."

His gaze went cold. "Someone is using the Cadogan House bar to solicit humans?"

"That would appear to be the case."

A muscle in his cheek twitched, but after a moment, he seemed to relax again.

"At least you managed not to tell Darius about that."

There was a smirk in his eyes that made me smile.

"We'll thank God for small miracles," I agreed. "Sarah said she heard about the rave from a short guy . . . and a woman named Marie."

Ethan froze, before slipping the pills back into the envelope. "There are probably thousands of women in Chicago named Marie."

"That is true," I agreed.

He handed the envelope back to me. "There's no way to know that it was Celina. She hasn't gone by that name in two centuries."

"That is also true," I said, tapping my fingers against the envelope.

"You're usually much more argumentative at this point."

"I usually have more evidence to go on."

He smiled. "We may make a Sentinel out of you yet."

Of course, while I did usually have more evidence that Celina was involved in something obnoxious, that didn't change the facts. . . . "It is still quite a coincidence that the rave pusher was using one of Celina's former aliases."

"An alias that led us to a saboteur the last time she used it," Ethan reminded me. He had a point - Celina sent incriminating e-mail messages to Peter as "Marie Collette." But he'd forgotten a key fact.

"Celina doesn't know we traced that particular e-mail address; she was using half a dozen others.

And she doesn't know that's how we found out about Peter. She just knows he stopped showing up to do his bidding. And, more important, she probably didn't think she'd get caught. What are the odds that particular girl would tell me that someone calling herself 'Marie' was soliciting humans outside a bar?"

"What are the odds Celina would use an alias we could identify outside a bar we own?"

Okay, put like that, it didn't sound so convincing.

"Just because I don't currently have all the evidence doesn't mean there isn't evidence to be found."

"And so it begins," he muttered, then lifted his gaze, no longer amused. "Merit, the head of the GP is steps away from us right now. I am ordering you not to bring up her name again - "

When I opened my mouth to object, he held up a hand.

"Until you have more evidence than a name she may or may not have used. I now consider the subject to be dropped. Understood?"

"Understood," I said, then wet my lips. "Do you trust me?"

His gaze went a little more seductive than I cared for. "Do I trust you?"

"It doesn't sound like Darius wants me getting my hands dirty. But this is my job, and frankly, I'm kind of good at it."

"Much to everyone's surprise."

I gave him a petulant face. "We know something weird is going on out there. If the rave scene is the way we get in and shut it down - the way we make sure vamps aren't out there slaughtering humans en masse - then we go the rave route. I need to get out there again, and we need to keep pulling this string."

"You cannot make an enemy of the GP. And not just because you're a member of this House," he preemptively added at my narrowed gaze. "I understand your impatience and I honor your commitment. But if they believe you stand against them, they will bring you down, Merit.

Their sovereignty is important. Celina lives because she hasn't challenged that sovereignty; if you challenge it, you pose a direct threat to Darius and the others. And that will be the beginning of the end of you."

"I know. But that's not reason enough to allow them to tear the city apart."

His expression - half sorrowful resignation, half pride - mirrored my own emotions. "I didn't train you, invest in you, so that you could give yourself over to the GP as some kind of Windy City sacrifice."

His voice was soft, earnest, but there was emotion in his eyes. Real emotion.

"I don't intend to be a sacrifice. And I don't intend to let you be one, either."

He looked away. "They have an eye on the House. They'll know what we're doing."

Here comes the kicker, I thought, bracing myself. "Not if you're not involved."

He paused, obviously startled, then leaned back in his chair. He might be nervous about the idea, but I'd piqued his interest. "Meaning?"

"Meaning I have powerful friends. Mallory.

Catcher. Gabriel. My grandfather. Noah." Not to mention Jonah and the rest of the Red Guard. "I can work with them to accomplish what the GP won't allow you to do."

Frowning, Ethan sat up again and absently shuffled papers on his desk. After a moment, he shook his head. "If you're working outside my authority, you also work outside my protection.

And if you do get caught, the GP won't like the idea of an uncontrolled Sentinel running around Chicago."

"But they'll allow an uncontrolled former Master to run around Chicago?"

"She only killed humans," he dryly reminded me. "You're talking about challenging the GP."

"I'm talking about doing what's necessary, and what's right. We've got humans picketing outside and a mayor who's going to try God knows what against you and the House so he can make a name for himself. We've also got really pissed-off vamps who'll start a fight without provocation just for the fun of doing it. Do you want them running around Chicago? Besides," I quietly added, knowing what he needed to hear, "I'm stronger now than I was before. I'm more skilled now than I was before."

He looked up at me, worry tightening his eyes.

God, I hated to see that worry. I hated what I'd done to put it there. And so I went to him, all reasons to the contrary. I slipped between his chair and the desk, and when he leaned toward me and rested his forehead on my abdomen, I slid my fingers into the thick golden silk of his hair.

"I'll be careful."

Ethan grunted and wrapped his hands around my waist. I ran my fingers through his hair - the same motion over and over again - and then traced my fingertips down his back. Gradually, I felt the tension leave his shoulders.

He looked up again, his eyes now lambent pools of green.

I smiled down at him. "You look drunk."

"I feel . . . relaxed."

I didn't trust that I wouldn't cross any more lines than I'd just vaulted, so I loosed his hands and stepped away, then moved around his desk and took a seat on the other side.

I figured I'd see irritation in his eyes when I looked back at him. For the second time, he surprised me. He was smiling - a kind of honest, humbled, sweet smile.

"Maybe I'm getting better at this?" he asked.

"Better at wooing you in the manner in which you should be wooed?"

I crossed one leg over the other and met his gaze. "My job is to ensure the sanctity of this House. Ensuring the sanity of its Master seemed like a good start."

"Is that the story you're sticking with?"

"That's my answer."

"I don't buy it."

I smiled thinly, eyes half-hidden beneath my lashes. "You don't have to."

"Hmmph," he said, but he was clearly pleased by the repartee.

This time, he was the one who took the offensive. He stood and moved around his desk and toward me. I straightened up, every nerve in my body on alert as he approached. When he reached me, he took my hands, the same move Mayor Tate had used a couple of nights ago.

"I'm self-aware enough to admit that I prefer to be in control," he said. "It is a consequence, I think, of the responsibility of maintaining this House. But I told you how I felt about you - "

"You didn't, actually."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

I gave him a smile. "You told me you were beginning to remember how it felt to love someone. You didn't make a confession specific to me."

His lips tightened, but he was smart enough to ask the pertinent question. "Will it make a difference if I say that?"

"No. But a girl likes to feel appreciated."

The only warning I had was the flash in his eyes before he moved, got down on his knees.

I froze, my stomach seizing. My teasing aside, a boy on his knees meant stuff I wasn't going to be prepared to hear.

Ethan reached forward and slid a hand around my neck, his thumb tracing the pulse point he found there. "Merit, I lo - "

"Don't." I knew I'd goaded him to it, but that didn't mean I was ready for the words. I could hear the pleading in my voice, but I managed to stop him before he got out the L word. "Don't say it. Putting it out there is only going to make it harder for both of us to actually do our jobs."

"I'm not flattered by the fact that you aren't sure whether I mean it or not."

"Do you?"

He gave me a flat look, but then his expression changed to something much more appraising.

And that made me worry.

"What?" I asked him.

"We're vampires."

"I'm aware."

"As vampires, we bargain, we negotiate, and we honor our agreements."

I lifted my eyebrows. "And what agreement do you intend on forming?"

"I want a kiss. One kiss," he added, before I could question him, "and I'll keep the declarations to myself. One kiss, and then I'll cease all flirting, as you call it, unless and until you come to me with your own declarations."

I slid him a glance to check his expression.

Reverse psychology wasn't beyond him, and the deal didn't make much sense otherwise. I wouldn't deny the attraction between us, but I felt pretty confident I could manage not to make sexual overtures to my boss.

"One kiss?" I reiterated.

"One kiss."

"Deal," I said. Hoping to jump the gun, I closed my eyes and offered puckered lips. Ethan chuckled, but ignored me long enough that I opened one eye.

"Don't think you're going to get by that easily." The hand on my neck slid down, his thumb resting in the hollow at the base of my neck, the rest of his fingers splayed across my collarbone. His eerily green eyes stayed trained on mine, at least until his tangled lashes dropped and he moved in.

But he didn't kiss me.

His mouth hovered just beyond mine, out of reach only so long as I refused to make that plunge forward - and he refused to execute the bargain.

"You're cheating," I murmured. I was torn about whether I was glad of it or not. I was afraid that if his lips touched mine, I'd lose the will to resist, and I was afraid that if I gave in, I'd lose my heart again.

Ethan shook his head. "I said one kiss, and I meant it. One kiss, my terms, to be claimed when the time is right."

Suddenly, he shifted his mouth to my ear, his teeth grazing the lobe. I shuddered at the spark that trilled down my spine, my eyes rolling back at the ridiculous pleasure of it.

"This isn't a kiss," he whispered, his lips at my ear.

"Nor is it in the spirit of the bargain."

"Let's not focus on the formalities, Merit."

And then his lips were back again, hovering against my jaw, teasing me with the possibility of what he might do.

With the anticipation of it.

I fought back the urge to step forward, to push my lips against his to be done with it. To push my lips against his because he'd incited me to it.

"I'll have you in my bed again, Sentinel. And at my side. That is a promise."

"You mean to tease me into a seduction?"

"Is it working?"

My answer was less a word than a frustrated grumble. I was self-aware enough to know that the only thing I enjoyed more than getting what I wanted was not getting what I wanted. In my experience, wanting was often more fun than having.

On the other hand, this was a game that could easily be played by two.

I lifted a hand and pushed a lock of hair behind his ear, then traced the line of his eyebrow and jaw with a fingertip, my gaze drinking in each part of his face, from perfect cheekbones to long lips.

This time, he froze.

Flushed with feminine power, I traced the line of his neck, then curled a fist into the top of his shirt and tugged him forward.

His eyes widened; I bit back a smile.

This time, I tortured him, skimming my lips along the line of his jaw, and then to his ear. I bit him delicately, just enough to hear his heavy sigh. I wasn't sure if I meant it, if I was torturing him because I thought he deserved to be teased just like he'd teased me, or if I wanted the joy of doing it on my own.

My heart pounded, the rhythm sped by fear and trepidation and simple desire.

"Do you like being teased?" I whispered.

"I enjoy previews," he said, the words confident, but his voice rough with arousal.

I took the gravelly edge to his voice as my cue.

I wanted to tease him, not push us both past the point of no return. I put my hand flat against Ethan's chest and pushed him backward. He rose unsteadily to his feet, looking down with me with frustration in his eyes.

A taste of his own medicine, I thought. To be so close to something you wanted . . . and yet so far away.

I stood up and walked around my chair and toward the door, then blew out a breath and straightened my ponytail.

"That's it?"

My heart was beating like a timpani drum, the blood rushing through my veins faster than it should have. "One kiss, you told me. You had your chance to take it."

Ethan wet his lips, straightened his collar, and moved back to his desk. He sat down in his chair, then looked up at me, something soft in his eyes.

"One kiss," he promised. "And after that, the next time we touch, it will be because you ask me."

I wasn't na?ve enough to tell him I wouldn't ask, to deny that I'd ever seek him out again. I knew better; we both knew better.

"I'm afraid," I finally confessed.

"I know." His voice was quiet. "I know, and it kills me that I put that fear into your eyes."

We were both silent for a moment.

"Next steps?" I asked, turning him back to business once again.

"A stiff drink?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but then something occurred to me. I thought about what Sarah had said, and then gestured toward his shiny new furniture. "You know, a stiff drink may not be such a bad idea."

"Have I finally driven you to alcohol, Sentinel?"

I grinned back at him, a sparkle in my eyes.

"We're nearing the end of the construction. Maybe I should round up some Novitiates for a drink at Temple Bar."

His eyes widened appreciatively. "Offering an opportunity to casually investigate whether someone is using my bar to recruit human victims. Good thought, Sentinel."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sullivan. I'm just talking about a few drinks with my girlfriends."

We sat quietly for a moment, the new deal between us solidifying. I was Ethan's eyes and ears, his tool to solve the problem Tate had presented. But in order to keep him safe, he couldn't have any more information than necessary. I wasn't crazy about taking on the GP, and I hadn't had much experience playing Sentinel without Ethan at my side, but I did like the idea of playing Sentinel without constantly fighting the chemistry between me and Ethan and the danger that brought with it.

He glanced down at his watch. "In case you're vaguely curious, Darius will undoubtedly be back for additional threats, but he'll eventually retire to the Trump. Some combination of jet and vampire lag. If you were to head to the bar at, let's say, three o'clock, you'd probably miss him entirely."

"How unfortunate." The deal struck, I headed for the door. "I'll keep you posted on any pertinent drink specials."

"Sentinel?"

I glanced back.

"Next time you're feeling chatty, don't forget to check the room first."

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