Page 35 of The Dancer and the Dark
She had to believe that.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and folded her hands on the table. “You said I could name my price?”
10
Gavin hovered over the nondescript office building in Irvine. In the past three hours, he’d identified Chloe’s exact location by tracking the humans Mila Anker had brought with her, the two men Raj had already identified watching Chloe.
Mila was Belgian, not French, but he kicked himself for not seeing the connection earlier.
The men who had taken Chloe were two of Mila’s humans. Paul Chopel, a Congolese-Belgian lieutenant in the Anker organization Mila had inherited when her sire Rens was killed in London years before. And Luc De Smet, a Flemish marksman who had a reputation Gavin was ready to end on sight.
The men who’d taken Chloe were dangerous even if they were human. One didn’t last in the Anker organization if they weren’t willing to get blood on their hands, and no one hired a marksman for his intellect.
There were only a few floating scraps of information about De Smet and none about Chopel, but one tidbit was that the Flemish man was an avid follower of the Belgian football club Mechelen, who’d had a match with their rivals the previous weekend.
Gavin knew the owner of every sports bar in Los Angeles that regularly played European football games because it was his business to know, and only one of them would pay to play Belgian matches when they had such a small audience. A personal visit to the bar had netted the make, model, and plate numbers of the car Chopel and De Smet were driving in Los Angeles, a dark green Toyota Land Cruiser with black California plates that matched the model of the car they’d seen on the security footage.
Another call from Beatrice to Ernesto unearthed the discreet agency that had handled the rental for Mila’s people, and another hack into their online security system gave Gavin the current GPS coordinates.
“She was stupid to register with Ernesto,” Ben said, watching as vampires and humans milled in front of the office building. “He’s arresting her tonight at a reception he invited her to and she happily accepted. As if she hadn’t attacked someone in his own granddaughter’s household.”
“As if we couldn’t find her trail,” Gavin muttered.
“It wasn’t stupid; it was arrogant,” Tenzin said.
“When is the reception?” They needed to wait for Mila to be taken, but they also had to be sure she didn’t get a message to the men holding Chloe.
Ben pulled out a phone in a thick, awkward case and shook it to activate the screen and check the time. “Fifteen minutes ago. Beatrice said she’d text when Ernesto took her into the meeting.”
Ostensibly, Mila Anker was an up-and-coming information merchant trying to revive the organization left by her sire and his brother after they’d been killed, but Gavin knew the truth because he’d once considered Mila… if not a friend, then a friendly peer. She’d already been quietly trading information to the highest bidder for years, and she was extremely wealthy.
Mila Anker was like Gavin—no alliances, no loyalties. She was hired to find information discreetly, and she was very good at what she did. She was also known as a neutral player who didn’t pass judgment on her clients, which was why Gavin had approached her with the telecom proposal months before. Though he’d ultimately changed his mind and told Mila he was rethinking the idea, he’d believed they were parting on good terms.
What he was really rethinking was Mila. Beneath all shining veneers, she was a spy, and nobody trusted spies.
Now she’d kidnapped Chloe and put a tranquilizer dart in one of Beatrice De Novo’s people, which meant Mila was dead. If Beatrice didn’t kill her, Ernesto would for violating the terms of her visit in his territory.
“The minute Mila’s people know she’s dead, they’ll be in survival mode. They’ll try to get rid of any evidence they were here and scatter,” Gavin said.
Ben nodded. “We need to be ready to move.”
“Ernesto’s people will already be on the road,” Tenzin said. “We should go in now.”
“We wait for the text.” Gavin kept his eyes on the building. “Or we wait for—”
Movement.
It was a young vampire with dark curly hair and a nearly milk-white complexion. He froze for a second; then his knees gave way.
“Now,” Gavin yelled. “He’s her child!”
Mila had brought one of her vampire children with her, and the minute a child’s sire was dead, their immortal connection would be severed.
Dammit. Something must have gone wrong at Ernesto’s.
Gavin, Ben, and Tenzin dove toward the office building, swords drawn. Every one of their targets knew their boss was dead, and only a severed head would kill a vampire. Mila’s people were cornered animals.
Tenzin landed first, going directly for the black-haired vampire on his knees who was already drawing a weapon. Foolish immortal—it was only a gun.
