Steal the Light (Thieves #1)(3)

Given my youth and relative inexperience, I wondered what had sent Mr. Halfer to my small, out of the way part of the world. I could think of half a dozen other crews I would pick if I needed an object procured and possessed sufficient funds. So what did Mr. Moneybags want with me? The waiter chose that moment to take our order. I was gratified to see that he pretended not to know me. Discretion was why I usually held my client meetings at Canelli’s. It was dumpy and trapped in the fifties, with its retro booths and tables with red and white checkered linens. The walls were covered in wood paneling that had seen better days, and the bar had a solid, well-used feel to it. It was the kind of bar where you ordered a martini—not some fruity apple or peartini, but a solid gin martini, just like Dino liked ‘em. Canelli’s had no windows, so there was a perpetual gloom to the dining area. Because there were no windows, there were also no prying eyes to look inside from the safety of the street. If you wanted to know what went on in Canelli’s, you had to take a chance and enter the den. It looked like the set of a Martin Scorsese crime drama, and with good reason. It really was run by the mob, and they trained their staff well. They also made a kickass chicken piccata.

Orders taken and waiter dispersed, Mr. Halfer studied me over his expensive glass of Chianti. “Usually I prefer to handle these situations over the phone. I’m afraid I rarely get to leave the office these days, but I wanted to meet you in person. I never would have thought the daughter of Harry Wharton would turn out so lovely.”

It took everything I had not to grimace at the mere mention of my father’s name. It’s not that I didn’t love my dad. I did and I do. But liking him can be a much more difficult thing to accomplish.

“Mr. Halfer, if you’re trying to get to my father through me, I can assure you it won’t work,” I said through a tight-lipped smile. It wasn’t the first time some client tried to use me to get the great Harry Wharton to take their call. Dad was a legend in the business and rarely took on new clients. “He books his own jobs and doesn’t listen to my counsel. You should really call his assistant. I can give you her number, though the last time I talked to Christine, she was pushing twenty-three. He’s probably traded her in for a younger model, but he always makes sure the phone number doesn’t change.”

Mr. Halfer laughed, a deep, rich sound that I found somewhat unsettling. “Let me set your mind at ease, Miss Wharton. I’m only interested in hiring you. This is important to me. You’re the one for the job. I like the makeup of your crew. It’s solid. I think your father works with too many contractors.”

I wasn’t buying the flattery, but smiled anyway. There was no reason to play the tough girl, not yet anyway. “I’m glad to hear that. I assure you, Mr. Halfer, my work is impeccable, and my crew is discreet. You’ll find us more than capable of handling the job. What exactly is the job?”

With an elegant aplomb, he reached for the bottle of wine and filled my empty glass halfway. “Now, now, Miss Wharton, there’s no need to rush things. I like to take my time and sample the pleasures this world has to offer. Please enjoy the wine. It’s truly a joy to taste. There is nothing quite like it where I come from.”

Now my radar was beeping. “And where do you come from Mr. Halfer?” I asked, not sure I really wanted to know the answer.

In the low light of the restaurant, his eyes were like dark mirrors and his smile a slightly sinister thing. “All in good time, Miss Wharton. But if you really want to get down to business, I suggest you invite your vampire to join us.”

I kept my smile in place, but he’d thrown me for a loop. “What are you talking about?”

“I assume he’s yours,” Mr. Halfer continued, not skipping a beat. “I’m talking about the sandy-haired lad who’s trying hard to look like he’s enjoying a martini he can’t actually drink. Or is it mere coincidence?”

Yep, that was my vampire. I sighed and gestured for Daniel to come over. His cover was blown. He slid off the barstool with a preternatural grace that set my heart racing. The ease of his movement was only one of the blessings death had brought Daniel.

“He’s not human,” Daniel accused flatly as he eased into an empty chair.

I somehow managed not to retort with a childish “duh,” but the look in Daniel’s blue eyes told me he knew exactly what I was thinking.

A human would most likely have ignored Daniel completely. Their unknowing eyes tended to slide off of his form until he wanted a person to see him. By that time, it was usually far too late to avoid becoming a late-night snack. There were humans who knew about vampires and the other members of the underworld, myself included, but I thought it unlikely that Lucas Halfer was anything so mundane as a human.

“Please don’t blame yourself, Mr. Donovan.” Halfer’s lips curled up in a smug smile. He turned to me. “Like I said, I have done my due diligence. I knew you worked with a vampire before I contacted you. He’s one of the reasons I believe you’re perfect for this job. His skills will come in handy, as will those of your witch and werewolf.”

His information was surprisingly up to date. Neil and Sarah were fairly recent additions to the crew. Daniel and I worked with a lot of contractors before settling on those two.

“As we don’t know what the job is yet, I can’t say I’ll be using my skills at all.” There was no lack of arrogance in Daniel’s voice. His handsome features were set in a sullen pout. He didn’t like having his cover blown and knowing less about the client than he knew about us. I didn’t need a crystal ball to see a hearty lecture on our vetting process in my future. Daniel was staring down our potential client like a lion waiting to pounce.