Tangle of Need (Psy-Changeling #11)(110)

Hawke’s hair caught the light coming through the open sunroof as he shook his head, the strands gleaming white-gold. “I can take you.”

“Bullshit.”

“After the meeting, you and me. Riaz will referee.”

Well aware the two men were the best of friends and often took each other on in combat, Riaz interlocked his fingers behind his head and looked up at the clear blue sky visible through the sunroof. “Dolphin changelings—what do you think?”

Riley was the one who replied. “That one, I could give credence to. Any number of humans and nonwater-based changelings—even Psy in some cases—report being saved from drowning by dolphins. The survivors always mention how intelligent the creatures seemed.”

“That,” Hawke said, “assumes humans, changelings, and Psy are the only intelligent species on the planet. Pretty arrogant of us.”

“Jellyfish,” Riaz said, after considering the other inhabitants of the sea. “Seriously, there cannot be jellyfish changelings.”

Hawke turned to look over his shoulder. “What the hell have you been smoking?”

Riaz shrugged, his mood undampened. “It was green and leafy.” He made a note to discuss the subject of possible sea changelings with Adria—intrigued as she was by puzzles, she’d find it as fascinating as he did. “There’s Kenji.” His flight delayed, the lieutenant had asked them to swing by the airport and pick him up.

Jumping in sans luggage, Kenji and his magenta hair took a seat beside Riaz. “A teenage girl screamed and asked for my autograph—thought I was part of some boy band from Japan.”

“I told you so,” Hawke said. “Did you give your fan an autograph?”

Kenji grinned. “It would’ve been such a shame to disappoint her.”

The rest of the drive was taken up with a quick discussion about the upcoming meeting, which Hawke would lead, the rest of them providing backup and security as needed.

Riaz tapped Riley’s shoulder when they hit the Embarcadero, pointing left. “That building.” Squat and wide, it fronted the pier, the shimmer of the Bay visible in the small gap between the warehouse and the fence.

Parking, they got out to find Nathan waiting for them. The senior DarkRiver sentinel took them through the empty space Riaz had already checked out with him earlier in the week. Nate went over all the exits and entrances once again, as well as anything that could be a possible blind spot in a fight. Because of its shape, the warehouse didn’t really possess any shadowy corners, part of the reason Riaz had chosen it.

“We’ve disabled the surveillance equipment as you asked,” Nate said to Riaz, “but one of the techs is standing by if you want anything functional.”

Hawke shook his head, crossing the cavernous space to slide open the wide door that led out onto the pier. “No, we’ll lose their trust if they figure out they’re being monitored.”

“In that case, the place is all yours. Call me once you’re done and I’ll send someone to lock it up. Good luck.” The DarkRiver sentinel left with those words.

Riaz and Kenji followed Riley and Hawke out onto the pier. Seagulls cawed overhead, the scent of brine and fish pungent in Riaz’s nostrils, the wind rifling through his hair. Taking a deep breath, he scoped the area one more time. While it allowed easy access to and from the Bay, once on the pier, their guests would be blocked from the view of the other warehouses by the high fences on both sides.

Given BlackSea’s preference to stay under the radar, he and Nate had even rigged up a temporary boathouse, ensuring Miane’s group could go straight from their boat to the pier. Nate had suggested BlackSea might simply swim in, but Riaz didn’t think they’d be anything but besuited, polished professionals.

He was proven right.

“Here they come.” The sleek craft cut through the water with the grace of a dancer, its engine near silent. Unsurprising—BlackSea’s shipbuilding arm was considered to be peerless, its craftsmen and craftswomen artists.

The vessel slipped into the temporary boathouse and docked. And then Miane Levèque was stepping onto the pier with two unfamiliar men and Emani. Dressed in a neat skirt suit of deep green, Miane was a woman of medium height with translucent hazel eyes uptilted a fraction at the corners and stick-straight hair of ebony, the black too soft to be called jet.

That hair was cut into a blunt fringe above her eyes, throwing them into sharp relief. Her skin was a shade that placed her ancestry in Northern Africa or the Middle East, or possibly part of South America. Riaz didn’t have to guess—he’d done his research, knew she’d been born in the port of Cairo to an Algerian mother and an Egyptian father.

“Hawke.” She held out a hand that bore scars from more than a few nicks and cuts, though her nails were manicured and polished a glossy shade Riaz thought might be called oyster.

Hawke shook it, holding her cool, almost cold gaze. Riley introduced himself a second later, giving Miane a reason to look away. It was an almost ritualistic dance when two alphas met for the first time. Left to their own devices, they’d stare until one of them either backed down or drew first blood.

Riaz remained in the background with Kenji, his attention on the men who’d come with the BlackSea alpha, both clearly there for her protection, regardless of any status they held in the Conclave. That wasn’t an insult—he and the other lieutenants were here for Hawke’s protection. None of them would drop their guard at any time, in case this was a giant double-cross and BlackSea was aiming for the assassination of the most powerful alpha in the country.