Chapter Sixteen
Louis tromped down the floating staircase.
She’d said thank you, Louis. With such certainty, as though she knew he was Louis and not Pierre.
Thank you, Louis. Not thanks, or hey, you, like many a woman had before her because they couldn’t tell them apart.
Maybe Pierre was right. Maybe she was different from the other women. Because she was their mate.
It warmed his heart a little after this morning. After the way she’d scrambled from the bed within moments of waking, as though she regretted what had happened between them. Not the emotion he—nor Pierre, he suspected—were hoping for after their intimacy.
He wouldn’t apologize for what they’d done.
She’d needed it. So had they. They’d only just found her and they’d come so close to losing her.
He’d needed to hold her, lose himself in her, and forget about that split second when he’d entered her office to a man standing over her, pistol raised and aimed at her head. If they’d been but a minute later…
They hadn’t been, and she was here. Thank whatever god, universe, or fates who were watching out for them.
And she’d agreed to keep them around as her bodyguards.
He was fine with letting her think she was paying them—if it made her more comfortable with the arrangement—but he had no intention of backing off. If she asked them to or not. Ever.
He entered the kitchen to Pierre making café, filling Gabe and Stef in on the last few weeks. Pierre handed him a cup. He would have killed for a pastry, something sweet, but for now this would do.
Stef, her hip cocked against the island bench, eyeballed the two of them. “A cat? You remember you’re both werewolves, right? And, in time, she will be, too.”
“Oui.” Cats and dogs were naturally antagonistic. A cat and werewolves—that would take a bit of finessing.
She shook her head, a bemused expression on her face. “Well, this is going to be interesting.”
Louis rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and grimaced. “We’ve got a few issues to sort out before we get to that point. That’s the least of them.”
She’d left her home and her country. Pierre had made the right decision bringing her cat along.
Gabe stilled, his cup halfway to his mouth. “She doesn’t know?”
“What we are? Or that the client she believes is a battered wife on the run from her abusive husband is really a time-traveling old witch who sent a hitman to kill her?” Louis gulped down a mouthful of coffee Pierre had added a heap of sugar to.
The sweetness didn’t detract from the sharp edge of their predicament.
Gabe shook his head. “For two people so smart, you’ve made a pig’s breakfast of this.”
Pierre snorted. “Like things went smoothly with you and Annabelle.”
“While we’re talking about fuck ups,” said Louis, “what’s with us using this place again?
The views are great, but Cordelia has to know it exists after what went down over Christmas.
If she does, you can bet the Faucherians do, too.
If we’re going with the animal analogies, we’re like sitting ducks here. ”
He didn’t like that at all. Not with their vulnerable mate here.
“The Ritz-Carlton has undergone a few changes in the last few months,” said Gabe, throwing back the last bit of his café and rinsing his cup in the sink.
“We put the word out among our friends that we have a vested interest in this place. A good portion of the employees, from management down to the cleaning staff, are now friendly to us. And there are wards everywhere. Especially here. Annabelle’s coven saw to that. Can’t you feel them?”
Of course he could. The subtle hum hadn’t let up since the moment they’d walked into the foyer. Would it be enough to keep their enemies at bay, and Melinda safe?
The distant swish of the elevator doors had both him and Pierre on high alert. He sniffed the air. Food—spicy—and female shifter. A statuesque blonde smothered in his brother’s scent breezed into the kitchen, bags of takeout in her hands. This must be Annabelle, their brother’s mate.
“Ooh, double trouble,” she said, placing the bags on the counter.
“From Gabe’s descriptions, you must be Pierre,” she said, jerking her chin at his twin.
“And you must be Louis. We got your text.” She opened a bag and slid a container over to him.
“Here’s what you asked for. Shacha noodles, with spicy sausage, tofu and vegetables. Oddly specific. I take it, it’s for—”
Melinda entered the kitchen, her laptop under her arm.
They’d have to pry that thing away from her to get her to use les toilettes.
She’d probably try to sleep with the thing.
Ever since this morning, on the plane, she’d kept it close.
She’d suspected Pierre of trying to access it.
Smart little cipher. She wasn’t wrong, but her mistrust stung all the same.
“I’ve contacted my client to arrange a meetup.”
“Where?” asked Pierre.
She swung her gaze to him, and beneath the suspicion a hint of something else, a softening.
Her laptop announced an incoming message. She flipped the lid, tapped the keyboard. “Dogpatch?”
He looked to Annabelle for clarification.
“It’s on the eastern side of the city, near the waterfront,” said Annabelle. “It used to be mostly industrial, but it’s changed a lot in the last twenty years. Now it’s kind of a mix of both. It’s about twenty minutes by car from here.”
“Do you need backup?” asked Gabe. “In case you run into any more hitmen.”
If Cordelia had Faucherians guarding her, Gabe and Stef would be an asset. If she used spells, if she had other members of the King family with her—witches and warlocks, all of them—they were going to need Annabelle, and perhaps a few members of her coven.
Melinda shook her head. “No. I agreed to two bodyguards. No more. My client will be terrified as it is. I can’t show up with a bunch of people.”
“We’ll hang back and keep out of sight.” Gabriel held up his hands. “We’ll be there if you need us, that’s all.”
Melinda glanced around the kitchen, the designer kitchen with its high-end appliances. “Thanks, but I don’t think I can afford that.”
Stef’s eyebrows shot up.
Gabe’s forehead bunched in a frown, his gaze swiveling between him and Pierre, and his gut tightened at the censure in his brother’s eyes. “You’re taking money from her? To protect her?”
“No!” He denied in unison with his twin.
“Yes!” Melinda rounded on them both. “We agreed.”
Oui, they had, but only to appease her. His brother had to know that.
Gabriel shrugged. “D’accord. You have an agreement, but I won’t be charging you, Melinda. I’ll take it out of my brothers’ hides on the training mats if I have to.”
Louis groaned. “Trust me, Melinda. Gabe will get his due. He won’t go easy on us because he’s our brother. He’s a big connard and neither of us, not even if Pierre and I work together, have defeated him yet.”
Pierre rubbed his ribs. “I still have bruises from last time. From before Christmas.”
Gabe grinned. “Sure, you do.”
“You should come and watch, Melinda,” said Stefanie, winking at their mate. “Hot and sweaty men, naked from the waist up, pounding on each other. Mm-mm.”
“Count me in,” said Annabelle.
Louis rolled his eyes. They didn’t need their help seducing their mate. Or maybe they did. With what was bound to go down today, they could use all the help they could get. Including the backup his brother was offering.
“Stay close, but out of sight,” Pierre said to Gabe. “We may not need you, but who knows what resources we’re up against. And we don’t want to spook Melinda’s client. If she runs, we may never find her. Melinda, when does your client want to meet?”
“In an hour.”
Louis slid the container of steaming-hot takeout across the bench and handed her a fork. “Plenty of time. We skipped breakfast. You need to eat first.”
Melinda pried the lid off the container. She glanced up, a question in her eyes.
“Shacha noodles, just how you like them.”
Vulnerability flashed across her face. “They’re my favorite. How did you…?”
Louis rounded the counter and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “The day we ran into you in the elevator. Remember?”
That softening in her eyes again, this time directed at him.
“Thank you, Louis.”
Louis. Again, she’d identified the correct twin.
He shared a look with his brother. Hope flared in Pierre’s eyes.
If they could neutralize Cordelia, if Melinda were to see her client for who, what, she truly was…
They would still have one challenge, but they would have time to woo their little mate, let her get to know them, come to trust them before the big reveal. The situation was salvageable.