23. Chapter 23
23
G oddammit!
The storm of rage and relief swelling through Rebecca in an instant made it impossible to respond.
She could breathe again, however shakily.
Her fists burned with the urge to throw Rick out and pretend he’d never appeared.
She’d finally given in to Maxwell’s hunger for the truth that spanned so much farther and ran so much deeper than simple curiosity. She’d finally relented, about to tell him exactly what he wanted to know about how Rowan Blackmoon fit into her history.
About why the shifter would have died that night at the warehouse without the Blackmoon Elf.
Of course there was another emergency, and even the Roth-Da’al’s barked warning that now wasn’t the right time wasn’t enough to keep her duties at bay just a little longer.
This was fucking ridiculous.
Breathing slowly to calm herself and her racing heart while the painful tug and pull of her connection with Maxwell raced back and forth across her body—he was pacing again—Rebecca had no choice but to relent.
She stared at Rick’s red- and black-mottled face peeking through the office door and spread her arms. “If it’s that important, why aren’t you showing me already?”
“Right. Yeah.” The blackhorn scurried into the room, waving around a small device in his hand. “Caught it on camera. The whole thing. Visual and audio. It’s insane.”
He stopped in front of her desk before turning toward her with a baffled frown. “Where’s your computer? I’ll plug it in.”
The question caught her off guard, then she blinked dully and turned toward her Head of Security. “Hannigan? Where’s the computer?”
He shrugged. “Aldous never wanted one.”
“And were we going to change that up here?”
“Just…haven’t gotten around to it yet,” he grumbled, glaring right back at her as if she’d specifically concocted this entire scenario just to make him look bad.
With the way Rick looked urgently back and forth between them, the flash drive she now recognized still raised in his hand, Rebecca was pretty sure not having her own office computer ranked particularly low on the priority list.
It didn’t make this any less awkward.
“Then let’s go find a damn computer,” she said.
“On it.” Rick spun around and hurried back toward the door. “The fastest one’s down in security. Best graphics card, too. Let’s do it.”
He scurried into the hall, the hustling echoes of his footsteps quickly receding.
Rebecca met Maxwell’s gaze again, which hadn’t changed from its previous scowling accusation. Before she could say anything, he took off across the room.
He stopped beside her on his way past and leaned in so dangerously close, it felt like he was trying to lean through her as he growled, “This isn’t over.”
Somehow, she managed to look up into his brightly glowing silver eyes while her entire body ignited with flaring energy and its growing need for her. For Maxwell. For itself. “It’s never over with you, is it?”
Before he had a chance to draw her back in, Rebecca spun away and took off for the door. The pain instantly flooding her as she left him behind made her suck in a sharp breath, but then that same pain receded as the shifter followed her out of the office.
In the hallway, Maxwell was immediately at her side and stayed there, ever present, ever possessively protective, without another word.
D esk chairs swiveled and all eyes turned to her when Rebecca stormed into the security office. “Pull it up.”
Whit looked sharply at Rick. “I told you to show it to her.”
The blackhorn shrugged as he nodded toward the Roth-Da’al and their Head of Security now entering behind her. “No computer.”
“Which we’re going to fix the first chance we get, boss.” With a heavy sigh, Whit snatched the thumb drive from Rick’s hand, spun his chair back toward his workstation, and pulled up this oh-so-important new discovery.
Rebecca was too impatient to wait for the files before she started asking questions. “When did this come in?”
“Right before I sent Rick up to you.” Whit’s fingers flew across the keyboard before several file boxes popped up on his screen. “Murray came back from recon with this news straight from Underdark. Apparently, he’s pretty buddy-buddy with the owner and managed to snag us a copy of the footage.”
Maxwell grunted as he folded his arms. “Drinking on the job in the middle of the day?”
Clicking around with the computer mouse in one hand, Whit thrust a finger in the air with the other. “ Recon in the middle of the day. And if he had a few drinks while he was there, could you blame him?”
Rebecca shot Maxwell a knowing look, and the shifter almost rolled his eyes.
Things had been especially tense around here over the last few days, so no, even Shade’s Head of Security couldn’t blame anyone for wanting to unwind a little. Even in the middle of the day.
Especially not when Murray had also retrieved new intel that clearly had the Security team more excited than she’d seen them all week.
“All right. Here we go.” Another box opened on Whit’s screen, and he leaned forward to crank up the volume on his speakers before pressing play.
The first frozen frame of the video began to play.
This better be good…
A monstrously enormous orc sat at a small table in the corner of Underdark, nursing a tankard of hinwi . The telltale blue glow of the Xaharí drink lit up the underside of his face and the two intimidatingly large tusks protruding from beneath his lower lip, almost long enough to make drinking from the tankard impossible.
Every few sips, he looked up from his table to scan the inside of the bar. When his squinting orange eyes pulsed with light and widened slightly, his gaze remained on a single target until he pushed himself out of his chair to stand.
As the new figure approached, the giant orc extended a beefy blue-gray hand, which was grasped by a comparatively smaller though still average-sized hand that looked more human than immediately magical.
They shook, then the orc dropped back into his seat, the wooden chair beneath him creaking dangerously beneath his humongous weight.
The newcomer unfastened the bottom two buttons of his sports jacket before taking a seat across the table.
The two couldn’t have been more different.
One grotesquely giant orc with fat fingers, gold chains dangling around his neck, and a disturbingly large and glittering gold front tooth on top, which revealed itself when he attempted an equally grotesque smile at his associate.
The other man certainly looked human, though in a bar like this in Chicago open to magicals only, the unspoken understanding of acceptable human illusions hid the man’s true race. He was particularly well-dressed—navy-blue sports jacket over a light-blue button-down shirt, light-gray dress slacks, neatly trimmed hair styled smoothly back over his head and away from his face.
Once he took his seat and ran one hand smoothly over the top of his hair, a pair of diamond-studded cufflinks winked under the bar’s lighting as his only bit of additional adornment.
“He’s late,” the orc grunted before lifting the tankard to his lips between his tusks, intently holding his associate’s gaze.
“You came early,” the suit replied, his voice a silky softness against the brutish growl from across the table. The corner of Suit’s mouth twitched.
“So, then,” the orc began. “Now that he’s here, Big Boss expects a lot of business talk. He’s eager to hear everything.”
“I’m sure you are.” The illusion of Suit’s calculating brown eyes twinkled in the light. “So I’ll get right to it. A lot of things have changed around here in a surprisingly short amount of time, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. One major change being that Aldous Corriger is no longer in the running.”
“Has he confirmed this?” the orc asked. His massive elbow plunking down onto the tabletop sounded like an axe splitting through wood before he tipped a grossly fat finger at Suit. “Big Boss doesn’t appreciate conjecture and gossip.”
“I’m quite sure. And I have confirmed it through several different channels, though I’m surprised this is the first you’re hearing of it.”
Big boss scrutinized the man, then returned his grasp around the handle of his tankard and shrugged. “News travels slower than ever these days. Others may still be in the dark.”
“Which is exactly why I wanted to meet with you.” Suit delicately clasped his hands on the table’s surface and leaned slightly forward, his expression unchanged. “I’m sure plenty of our associates and competitors in the city haven’t quite figured out what’s what. If that’s the case, this change may present us with a rather unprecedented opportunity. Should we want to get ahead of the game, now that Corriger is gone, I see a potential for enormous gains. For those quick enough to act and form new strategic alliances.”
“Big Boss is curious. How much has he lost recently in the game?”
Suit spread his hands in a mild-mannered shrug. “Not as much as some. More than I like.”
The orc grunted, spray of spittle bursting between his lips. “Big Boss sent two messengers to Corriger’s vault to remind him of another…partnership. They never came back.”
“Unfortunate for you. I have a hunch someone’s taken great pains to keep news of Corriger’s death from spreading. As I understand it, though, his private army is falling apart from the inside without their leader. I think you and I can find several ways to help each other.”
Big Boss took another long, crude drink from his tankard, then eyed Suit sideways. “What does he know about it?”
“I did say I’ve had my own share of obstacles, Big Boss. Lower-level handlers disappearing without probable cause and no evidence as to who is responsible for it. So I stepped things up a notch. Did some digging. Then, after Eduardo’s shipments were hit, the guy was adamant about the attack having been a Shade endeavor.”
The orc snorted. “Big Boss eats griybreki for breakfast. Sometimes dessert.”
The tiniest smile spread across Suit’s closed lips before he continued. “I thought I’d take matters into my own hands at that point. They shouldn’t have made it out of the amusement park, but somehow, they managed it. That somehow is the biggest threat we face now in the city. I won’t say that team and the necromancer I contracted were invaluable, but I don’t like the idea of a new player in town. Whether or not they had any idea beforehand who they’ve been fucking with.”
The two stared at each other for several long moments, sizing each other up, gauging the interaction, calculating next moves.
“Big boss agrees,” the orc finally grumbled. “What does he suggest?”
“A partnership,” Suit said. “This new unknown player has already eradicated a disturbing number of magical-owned and operated establishments in the city and the greater Chicago area. Impressive work, out of context, but resources are a little thinner than usual, before the power vacuum eventually corrects itself.
“I say we pool our resources, and we might actually stand a chance against this overconfident radical. After that, once they’re out of the picture, we make our move on Corrigan’s task force. They’re bound to be in shambles by now, regardless.”
Big Boss tapped a fat finger against his tankard’s handle, the slow rhythm of it almost counting down the seconds of his own personal assessments. “It would be risky.”
Suit tilted his head. “Isn’t everything these days?”
“It could be surprisingly lucrative.”
Suit spread his arms slightly before sitting back in his chair. “With great risk comes great reward, if the proper measures are taken and the most beneficial arrangements made.”
“Big Boss does not take orders. Big Boss gives them.”
“And I would expect nothing less of you. I understand the necessary level of suspicion inherent in nearly every aspect of our line of work. So, to prove the level of my sincerity to you, I suggest a meeting of our respective organizations. With both you and I in attendance, of course.”
A phlegmy croak of a laugh burst from Big Boss’s lips with another spray of spittle across the table. “He wants to have a fucking picnic.”
Suit’s smile grew. “Not quite. But a meeting together in a public place, with our combined forces in attendance, should help work out any pre-existing…kinks, if you will. You and I are able to sit down for a conversation like this, face to face. But this only works if our men come to understand, on their own relatively simplistic terms, that an alliance is both favorable and possible. All our efforts fall flat if our soldiers fail to refrain from slaughtering each other at first sight.”
Big Boss barked out another startlingly deep, disruptive laugh before slamming his tankard down onto the table. A splash of blue-glowing hinwi sloshed over the side. “They always pick the slaughter first, don’t they?”
“Only until we work together to teach them otherwise,” Suit replied. “Though if this interests you, we would need to start making moves sooner rather than later. The chaos of sudden flux does lead to a certain unpredictability of circumstances. You understand.”
“Big Boss is smarter than he might think,” the orc replied with a flickering smirk of his own that snagged around his enormous protruding tusks. “Thursday. Midnight. Polly L Bridge. He and Big Boss bring their minions to play nice, and maybe this strategic alliance works out for everyone.”
“I do hope so,” Suit said.
“One more thing.” Big Boss wagged a finger at his potential new business associate. “That new operation that moved into the old prison. Big Boss has no desire to mix with that old-world piece of shit, no matter how much…flux.”
“Harkennr?” Suit raised his perfectly manicured eyebrows. “You let me handle that. The warlock’s kept to himself so far. His activity interferes very little with my aims, or yours, but once you and I start working together, I imagine even he won’t be a problem. Plus, a hostile takeover of Shade would significantly boost both our prospects, with very little risk.”
The crime lords sized each other up a moment longer, then Big Boss grunted again. “He has himself a deal. Big Boss accepts.”
“A decision you won’t regret, I assure you.”
When Suit stood, Big Boss remained seated, though he didn’t hesitate to wrap Suit’s outstretched hand in his meaty paw for a final handshake. “Don’t be too late.”
Suit leaned forward slightly over their clasped hands. “Don’t be too early.”
Then they released each other before Suit stood, refastened the buttons of his sports jacket, and spun smartly around to take his leave across the bar.
Big boss remained in his seat at the corner table, watching the other magical patrons with a keen eye as he messily slugged down the rest of his drink. “This fucking city… One day, Big Boss will own all of it. Sooner than later, he thinks. Ha!”