The Thief (Black Dagger Brotherhood #16)(31)

As she entered, he shut the door behind them, and she looked around. The back of the gallery was much as she expected, a high-ceiling’d space with exposed electricals and ductwork that hung like stalactites from open metal rafters. Larger installations awaiting their time out where the patrons milled about were like passengers lined up to board a bus, some in packing crates, others draped with cloth. Cubicles for minions were arranged between filing cabinets, the office equipment and silent phones sleeping on the off time. A break area with a table, coffee maker, microwave, and mini-refrigerator was to one side.

Streeter locked them in together. “How’d you get my number?”

“I know all of my brother’s employees.” Or rather, she had remote-accessed the gallery’s server about three months before and gotten the information then. “And how to reach them.”

The man came into the light and crossed thick arms over his chest. His nose had been broken a couple of times and his skin was marked with acne scars.

Disappointing, really. His body contours had suggested their association might have been multi-layered.

“You will take me to my brother’s office, where we will discuss your employment.”

“I get a paycheck just fine from UPS.”

“And you are satisfied with your standard of living? Possess all that you would choose to own?”

There was only a brief pause, during which he no doubt considered the specifications of the latest American muscle car. “Mr. Benloise’s office is upstairs. But it’s locked and I don’t know the code. Nobody been there since he dint come in no more.”

“Lead the way,” she said dryly. “I will have no trouble getting in.”

After entering the gallery space, they crossed over to an unmarked door which revealed a set of stairs that were unmarked and uncarpeted, little more than a steel ladder painted black. As they ascended, with him in the lead, she noted that the walls on either side were likewise matte black and the motion-activated lights that came on were inset into a ceiling that was the same.

At the top, she put her body between the keypad and Streeter, and entered her mother’s birth date. As the lock slid free, she shot a glare over her shoulder.

“My brother would not appreciate the way you are looking at my legs. I am also armed and a very good shot. You can get rich or get buried. Tell me, what is your choice.”

Before he could move, she outed the nine she kept hidden in her coat and shoved it right into the man’s crotch.

As Streeter gasped and defensively went to grab the weapon, she took out her second nine and placed it to his throat.

“Do not doubt me. Ever,” she said. “I have no attachment to you whatsoever. You live or die, it matters not to me. If you are useful, however, you will benefit greatly.”

There was a tense silence. And then Streeter muttered, “You are so his sister.”

“Did the dark hair and eyes not give me away?” she drawled. “People back home always say that Ricardo and I have the same-shaped face, too. Now apologize.”

“I…I’m sorry.”

She gave him a moment to truly absorb his reality. And then she stepped away and pulled open the door. As she entered her brother’s office, lights came on sequentially, illuminating a long, thin chute of a space…that culminated in a raised platform upon which a grand desk had been placed like a jewel box upon a bureau.

There were no computers. No files. No clutter upon the smooth expanse. Just a lamp and an ashtray for her brother’s cigars. And two chairs only, Ricardo’s and that of a visitor.

On the approach, sadness choked her, images of her and her brothers coming one after the other, from their shared childhoods and then later, when they had been adults. Ricardo had always been the one she respected, much as his dictates had smothered her. Eduardo had been fun, however, a buffer between her and their eldest’s clashes.

Gone. All gone. And with their presumed passing, she had lost a bit of herself, as well.

But that would not stop her.

Stepping up onto the platform, she turned to Streeter and leaned her weight back against the desk. “There are employment reports filed on all of you. My brother Ricardo was quite meticulous about these things.” And this was true for the real employees and the hired thugs. “Yours were quite exemplary. That is why I contacted you, as I am looking for a personal guard and will pay well for it.”

“What are we talking about for cash.”

“I will pay three times what you were earning with Ricardo.”

“I’m in.”

“Good.”

Vitoria smiled and glanced around the barren room. Then she focused on him. “Now, tell me, what do you think happened to my brothers.”



* * *



—

“It’s the bonding.”

As the Brother Rhage spoke up, Ehric looked across the training center’s corridor. The pair of them were outside Assail’s room—and he was trying to ignore the arguing he could hear through the closed door. “What?”

“That scent. Can you smell it? I can. It’s his bonding for that woman—good call bringing her in.”

“We’ll see how successful it is.”

With a curse, Ehric paced up and down, but didn’t go far. The healers were still having an angry exchange and he wondered what in Fate’s name was being done to his cousin.