Dragos Goes to Washington (Elder Races #8.5)(31)

Dragos glared at her. “Pia. The vice president’s husband was murdered in our house.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “Like I don’t know that already! I am not going downstairs, so put a guard on me if you have to, but I’m staying up here to help.”

Jered snapped, “Enough of this squabbling over who is going to run away. You need to catch the murderer immediately, before all our diplomatic chances are ruined.”

Dragos rounded on the Djinn. “I need to catch the murderer? This has nothing to do with the Wyr.”

The Djinn gave him an incredulous look. “You must be joking. The human male’s throat was slashed just as a Wyr might do. And as you said, it happened in your house. This is your responsibility. You’re involved whether you like it or not. And others will blame you—again, whether you like it or not. Hell, I don’t even know who did it, and I blame you.”

A hot burst of anger fired through Pia’s veins. She snapped, “That’s completely unfair! None of our people would do such a thing!”

The Djinn glanced at her. “Fairness has nothing to do with it. Appearances are everything.” He turned back to Dragos. “You need to either find the murderer quickly, or you need to hide it. If you want someone to get rid of the body, I can do it.”

“Bullshit,” muttered Niniane. “He’s the vice president’s husband, Jered. You can’t just whisk away the body!”

“This is a stupid conversation,” Tiago said.

Jered rounded on him. “I see that you haven’t come up with anything useful.”

“That’s enough,” Dragos hissed. As they all fell silent, he said to the others, “Leave. Go back to the others and mingle.” As they hesitated, he said between his teeth, “You’re wasting valuable time.”

Niniane touched Pia’s hand and said in her head, I don’t care how much Dragos snarls or tries to order everybody around. If you need me, call and I’ll come.

Thank you. Pia grasped her fingers briefly.

Even still, Niniane lingered until Tiago pulled her away. He told her, “Let’s go. And you do not leave my side for anything, faerie. I mean you do not step two feet away from me.”

“Oh, pffft,” Niniane exclaimed, as she walked away with him.

“I think you’re making a mistake not getting rid of the body,” Jered said. With that parting shot, he strode after the other couple.

“For being such a bright people, sometimes the Djinn are remarkably clueless,” Dragos muttered. He turned his attention to her. “Bayne’s on his way. How long do we have until dinner is supposed to be served?”

Calculating rapidly, she said, “Soon. Maybe in five or six minutes. Gennita checked in with me just a little while ago, and I told her fifteen minutes. That was when I went to take the extra place setting off the table, and-and-and—”

Words seemed to stick in her throat as her brain seized up again.

Giving her a sharp, questioning glance, Dragos put one bracing hand on her back again, right over the tense knot between her shoulder blades. Grateful for his silent touch, she managed to stop stuttering.

Bayne rounded the corner and strode toward them, his big body a fluid, fast machine. He didn’t waste time asking questions when he reached them. Instead, he swept the scene quickly with those hard, hazel eyes, taking everything in, and then he turned to Dragos.

Pia was used to seeing Bayne smiling in a laid-back stance, usually with hands tucked into his jeans pockets. It always jarred her when the sentinels flipped some internal switch in their heads and went into warrior mode.

Dragos said to him, “Guard Pia. Go where she goes, no matter what.”

“You got it,” said Bayne.

Before Pia could mention that Eva was a perfectly adequate guard, thank you very much, Dragos added, “And Bayne? If necessary, you fly her out of D.C., and you don’t stop flying until you both get back to the Tower.”

So that was why Dragos wanted Bayne guarding her, not Eva. Eva was a highly trained, effective warrior, but her Wyr form was canine. Not only could Bayne fly, but he also had the strength to carry Pia in flight.

“Understood.” Bayne turned that hard gaze to Pia, and his expression softened somewhat as he looked down the length of her body at her bare, smudged feet.

Furiously, Pia wanted to snap at both men for thinking they could decide her fate without her input, but she managed to catch herself up before she said anything she might regret later.

She wasn’t thinking as rationally as she could be, and she knew Dragos wasn’t either. He had seen a dead body and clicked into hyperprotective mode, and nothing was going to ratchet him down again until he felt like he had gained some measure of control over the situation.

There was that concept again – control over the situation. She glanced at dead Mr. Colton again and nearly burst into hysterical laughter. Like her going into hysterics was going to help anybody. She managed to swallow that impulse down too.

Dragos turned an incandescent gold gaze onto her. He said, “Stall dinner for as long as you can. Go.”

She nodded. “Got it.”

With Bayne on her heels, she ran barefoot to the kitchen, which was awhirl with activity. The kitchen staff was busy preparing the second course to follow the salmon soufflé, delicate grilled endive salads with light shavings of aged parmesan cheese and paper-thin Parma ham arranged in a fan on top.