14. Dimitri #2
The room was smaller than Petrov and Anita's, but it was still huge by any standard either of them had lived under before. It was more space and more comfort than they'd ever had.
"There's a closet through there." Robbie gestured. "It's also stocked with clothing for you both."
Mattie walked over to the door he'd indicated, pulled it open, and made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a gasp.
Clothes hung in two neat rows, one for her and one for him, and folded items were stacked on shelves beside them.
Everything was new, tags still attached, sized exactly right.
"Who did the shopping?" she asked, running her fingers along the sleeve of a blouse.
"A personal shopper, I guess," Robbie said.
Dimitri blinked. "That's an actual occupation? Someone whose job is to buy other people's clothes?"
"You'd be surprised." Robbie looked faintly amused. "Rich, busy people are willing to part with their money in exchange for time saved. After all, for humans, time is the most precious commodity there is."
Dimitri swallowed.
He didn't like to be reminded of Mattie's human lifespan compared to his never-ending one.
There must be a solution to that. He felt it in his core like a whispered promise from fate herself. If he could find a way to keep a bunch of enhanced immortal warriors with a shared mind coherent, he would find a way to extend Mattie's life.
"Please thank the shopper," Mattie said, still running her fingers over the luxurious fabrics. "And whoever paid for this. Everything is so beautiful."
"I will," Robbie promised. "But you haven't seen the best part yet."
She turned to him. "Better than this?"
"You tell me." He waved a hand at another door. "Check out the bathroom."
Arching a brow, Mattie let go of the sleeve she was holding and went to investigate the wonders of the bathroom.
The squeal that followed was proof that Robbie hadn't been exaggerating.
Dimitri followed her in and found her standing in front of a jacuzzi tub large enough for two, with a glass-walled shower beside it, stocked with more showerheads than any single person could possibly need.
"I'm never leaving." Mattie turned to Robbie. "You will have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming."
Robbie laughed. "You'll have to take that up with Kian. It's his penthouse."
"Isn't he the big boss?" Dimitri asked.
Robbie nodded.
"When are we going to see him?" Dimitri asked.
"In good time," he said cryptically and turned around. "Dining room's this way. There's takeout waiting, and it's getting cold. Golden Dragon makes the best Chinese food in LA, so you are in for a treat."
Petrov and Anita were already seated at the table when Dimitri and Mattie walked in.
"Finally," Petrov said. "I'm starving."
"You could have started without us." Dimitri pulled a chair out for Mattie.
"Anita wouldn't let me." Petrov cast her an accusing look. "I'm a convalescing patient, and I need to be fed in a timely manner."
She patted his arm. "You are not starving. You are salivating because everything smells so good."
"Same thing." Petrov tried to reach for one of the boxes and winced when the motion pulled on his injured side. "You'll have to help me."
The conversation stopped when they started eating, and the only words exchanged were requests to pass the containers.
They were partway through the meal when a man walked in.
"Welcome to America," he said as he pulled out a chair for himself. "I'm Turner." He was short, blond, with pale blue eyes that seemed sharply intelligent.
"The strategist," Dimitri said.
"That's right." Turner took one of the paper plates and helped himself to some of what was left. "I'm here to help you settle in."
"Thank you for the five-star treatment," Petrov said, gesturing at the room around them with his chopsticks. "I could get used to living like this. Where are the soldiers? Are they getting a nice apartment like this one?"
Turner smiled, and it seemed forced, but Dimitri didn't think it was because the man was in a bad mood. He was just not a smiler. "The Eight are settling into the dungeon level."
"The dungeon?" Mattie set her chopsticks down. "Why did you put them in a dungeon? They are heroes, not criminals."
"It's not like it sounds." Turner didn't seem offended by her accusation. "The cells were converted a long time ago into comfortable rooms with private bathrooms, televisions, etc. It's the most secure part of the building, which is the actual reason they're there. It's just a precaution."
"They saved us." Mattie's voice turned even sharper. "They shouldn't be underground while we're up here with a jacuzzi tub and a view of the city. It's not fair!"
"No, it's not," Turner agreed. "Life isn't fair.
The Eight are dangerous. They are powerful in ways we have no defense against. So, despite their acts of heroism, we need time to establish trust, and until then they need to be assessed in a contained environment.
That's not a judgment on their character. It's just how it has to work, for now."
Dimitri felt the same discomfort as Mattie, but he understood Turner's caution because he knew how dangerous the collective actually was.
"I get where you are coming from, but it doesn't feel right."
"It's not meant to feel right," Turner said. "It's meant to be prudent and cautious, and we are all committed to making their lives as comfortable as possible in the meantime. Which means that you need to start working on their next dose. They need it urgently."
"They do." Dimitri set his chopsticks down.
"Arran and Rhys moved your equipment into the industrial kitchen on the underground level. It seemed like the most practical space until something more permanent gets built. How soon can you be ready to start?"
Petrov groaned. "I need a shower, a few hours of sleep, and a bottle of vodka."
"You need a shower and sleep," Anita said, fixing him with a look that could have stripped paint. "The vodka can wait indefinitely, or forever, whichever comes first."
He glared back at her. "You can't be serious."
"I mean it. You were shot two days ago, Doctor Konstantin Petrov, and even you know that vodka is not good for your healing body."
Dimitri exchanged a look with Mattie. Finally, someone was managing Petrov, and it was deeply satisfying to watch.
"I can handle it by myself," Dimitri said. "Petrov should rest. I desperately need to shower and change, but I can do all that in ten minutes."
Turner nodded. "I'll come back for you in an hour."