Wonder Woman: Warbringer (DC Icons #1)(46)
“Not stupid,” grumbled Alia.
“So everyone else still thinks you’re abroad. And the people who attacked the Thetis believe you’re at the bottom of the sea. They won’t expect you to be at a party in New York tonight. No one will.”
“But if she’s spotted—” Diana began.
“Then that can only work for us. By the time word reaches anyone that she’s been seen in New York, we’ll be on a plane bound for Greece and they’ll be chasing their tails in Manhattan. The security will be top rate.” He leaned forward. “Alia, if it wasn’t safe, you know I would never suggest it.”
“That’s true,” Alia conceded reluctantly. “He’s really uptight.”
“Cautious,” Jason corrected.
Diana considered Jason’s bunched shoulders and clenched jaw. “He does seem highly strung.”
His eyes narrowed. “Maybe it’s because WNBA players jump me in hotel rooms.”
Diana shrugged. “If you try to break into a woman’s chambers, you should expect to be trounced.”
“Trounced?” he said indignantly. “You took me by surprise.”
“I had you facedown on the floor.”
“Would you two quit it?” said Alia. “I need a minute to think.”
Diana crossed her arms and stared through the window, telling herself to take note of her surroundings, biting her tongue against the flood of words that wanted to break free. The arrogance of this boy, so sure in his power, buttressed by the trappings of his wealth. It was possible Alia’s power was increasing her irritation toward him. Or maybe he’s just irritating.
The car turned off of the street and entered a dark corridor that led underground. If this was where Alia and her brother lived, she supposed that with the vehicle’s tinted windows, someone observing Jason’s comings and goings from afar would have no way of knowing he hadn’t returned to the building alone. They passed row after row of gleaming automobiles far sleeker than those they’d seen in the other parking garage.
“Home, sweet home,” Alia said, her face melancholy.
“You may not be glad to be here,” said Jason quietly. “But I’m glad to have you back.”
Alia looked down at her hands, and Diana thought she understood her sadness. Alia had sought adventure and independence but had found only failure and suffering. Diana wondered if she would feel that same sadness returning to Themyscira. If she ever could return. She didn’t want to think about that possibility. She’d hungered for the chance at a hero’s quest, and heroes didn’t get homesick. Better to focus on the task at hand: ensuring Alia’s safety and getting to the spring.
The driver pulled the car around to an unobtrusive-looking set of metal doors.
“Is this secure?” Diana asked as they exited the vehicle and Jason pushed a button.
“This elevator is reserved for the penthouse,” said Jason. “No one else has access.”
Diana looked around warily as the doors slid open and they entered the little room. They had elevators on Themyscira that were operated by pulleys and used for moving heavy or unwieldy cargo. Aside from the panel of buttons to the right of the door, she supposed this was no different, even if it was more luxuriously appointed. Its floor was carpeted, its walls mirrored. She caught a glimpse of her reflection, dark hair still damp from the shower, rumpled T-shirt, blue eyes a bit dazed. She looked like a stranger. Jason’s gaze met hers in the mirror, and she realized he’d been watching her again. He took a key from his pocket, inserted it into a lock beside the panel, and pressed P.
The elevator lurched, and Diana attempted to keep her face neutral as they shot upward, leaving her stomach somewhere near her feet. This was not like the elevators on Themyscira.
She took a deep breath through her nose and tried to keep her mind off the horrible sensation in her gut and instead concentrate on what Jason had said about the elevator’s security. So what if access to the penthouse was restricted? There had to be stairs somewhere. And if someone was determined enough, they could simply take down the whole building with explosives. What were a few more lives lost if a world war could be prevented?
A moment later, the elevator jounced to a halt, and the doors opened into a cavernous hallway, two stories high. Sunshine streamed in through a skylight, illuminating a staircase of polished wood that swept up one paneled wall, and floors set in a spiral mosaic of black and white tiles.
Diana tensed at the sight of two large men in dark suits standing by the doors, but they simply greeted Jason and Alia with a nod.
“This is Meyers, and this is Perez,” Jason said to Diana as they passed. “They’re both former Navy SEALs and have been with my family for almost ten years. They’re either trustworthy or the slowest assassins ever.”
Diana said nothing. If her reading on politics had taught her anything, even a loyal man might be swayed under the right circumstances.
They entered a large dining room and a living area that opened onto a terrace of gray stone squares separated by manicured hedges, and beyond that, a swath of open blue sky that made her heart lift. Colored spheres of blown glass spread over the living room ceiling so that it looked as if an underwater garden had bloomed above them. These were considerably nicer lodgings than the Good Night.
Jason continued on to the kitchen, set his keys down on the counter, and opened what appeared to be a refrigerator.