The Thief (Black Dagger Brotherhood #16)(128)

“So,” Marisol said as she turned to him. “Are you two going to that meeting alone?”

“What meeting?” Vishous asked as he looked into the rearview.

“It’s nothing,” Assail informed the Brother.

Marisol spoke up. “He’s meeting with an arms dealer—I thought to put you in touch directly with the supplier?” Her eyes narrowed. “Unless that isn’t the case—”

“That’s what he’s supposed to be doing,” V cut in. “I just didn’t know it was happening tonight. Or that he was going on his own. Do you trust these people?”

No. “But of course,” Assail muttered.

The Mercedes slowed and then stopped. After the Brother put the sedan in park, he twisted around. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I most certainly will not.”

“Who are these people?” Marisol asked. “Wait, did you meet them through Benloise?”

Assail put both his palms up. “I would like to table these discussions for a more appropriate time—”

“I’m going with you,” V announced. “I don’t give a fuck whether you live or die. What I can’t do is lose that connection. You get popped, and I won’t get my ammo.”

“Are you armed?” Marisol demanded. “Do you even have a knife on you?”

Assail rolled his eyes. “I will get something at the house.”

“You sure about that?” she countered.

“Yes.”

There was a very long, disapproving silence. And then she blurted, “I’m going, too. I’m going with both of you.”

Assail glared in her direction. “Absolutely not. I’m not putting you in any kind of harm’s way—”

“But you’re more than willing to go to a meeting like that unarmed, guarded by someone who doesn’t give a shit about you? Are you insane?”

“I was until you showed up, remember,” he said dryly. “And then things got worse after I returned to mental health.”

She looked at Vishous. “Do you have any extra guns I can borrow?”

The Brother started to smile. “You know, I like you. But can you shoot?”

“Only to kill,” she said grimly. “No, I take that back. If someone doesn’t respect me properly, I can get pretty goddamn trigger-happy, and I like places that take a while to heal.”

The Brother smiled, flashing his fangs. “Fair enough. You want to assume the risk on his behalf, that’s on you. Plus frankly, my other brothers are all out in the field. With those attacks happening every night, it’s all hands on deck. If I don’t have to pull one of them in on this, that would be great.”

The pair of them nodded at each other—and then stared at Assail.

Assail was tempted to point out to Marisol that she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. Except yes, he was pathetic enough to beg for a little more time in her company, even if it was in this context. And no, he knew better than to try to dissuade her from the danger.

No one was going to do that, even though the idea of her getting shot at made him considering the merits of insanity with an open mind.

There was just one rub. “The woman won’t meet with me if I don’t come alone. So this is all a moot point.”

“It’s a female?” Marisol said.

“Aye.” He shrugged. “And now that I think about it, that means both of you will be waiting safely in this car, which I believe is bulletproof, is it not? Funny, now I’m not as worried about this brilliant idea.”

Marisol sat forward in her seat. “Where is this meeting supposed to take place?”

“A warehouse down on Thirtieth Street.”

“Benloise had one there. What’s the address?”

“Four-four-oh-nine.”

“That’s it. That’s the one he owned.”

“You’re not going inside, Marisol.” Assail looked away to the blacked-out window and measured the dim reflection of her in it. “And I’ll be fine.”

Actually, he didn’t care one way or the other what happened to him. But at least Vishous would keep her safe. That was the important thing.

That was all Assail cared about.

“Let us proceed to my house,” he said, “so that we may collect her things. And then let’s go to the warehouse and get this over with.”





FIFTY-EIGHT


As Sola came up from the basement with her grandmother’s suitcase in one hand and her own duffel over her shoulder, she took a last look around Assail’s kitchen. There was a stainless-steel saucepan that her vovó had used sitting on the stove. The thing was perfectly clean, and the lone standout in the otherwise tidy, put-it-all-away neatness.

Almost as if the thing had been left out as a shrine, and not just to the food.

Ehric and Evale, and that young man—male—were nowhere to be found, and she had a feeling that Assail had told them to go.

She missed them. She wanted…to say goodbye to them.

In such a short time, the six of them had formed a little family unit, a ragtag bunch of unrelateds who had bonded in quick order. And as she thought about them living here together under this roof, the strangest sensation hit her in the chest. She didn’t want to acknowledge what it was. She really didn’t.