Page 20 of Marked By Moonlight
“Five,” I hissed. “I nearly died getting that stupid box for you.”
That was back in Mallorca, in a black-market art gallery, where I’d joined the men in extracting — okay,stealing— a long-lost Van Gogh. We’d nearly been foiled, but I’d succeeded with Henrik’s help, in exchange for a small box that had caught his eye. I had no clue what it contained, only that it meant a lot to him. Securing it had put him in my debt.
So many things about that caper made me blanch — even without thecolluding with vampirespart. How had my life come to this?
But I was hip-deep in the slime of a different world now. I might as well forge ahead.
Henrik gave his watch a pointed look. “Fine. Five small questions. Begin.”
“What happened in Brussels?” I blurted, then caught myself. “Wait. It really was Brussels, right?”
“Gordon briefed us in Paris, but yes. The mission was in Brussels.”
And, yikes. The casual way he spilled top secret information unsettled me. I made a mental note to never, ever trust a vampire with my secrets.
Then I stuck up a hand. “Wait. That doesn’t count as one of the five questions.”
“Of course it does.”
“No, it doesn’t!”
“Yes, it does.”
“Dammit, Henrik!”
He gave me an insufferable look. “Continue.”
“What happened while you were away?”
He considered, weighing up what to include and what to omit.
“Gordon briefed us in Paris,” he finally said. “And he issued a warning.”
I held my breath, waiting.
“He warned us that you were not to learn anything of our activities, and that none of us should even think about getting involved with his dear, virginal goddaughter.” He chuckled dryly. “A warning that came a little too late.”
Virginal, my ass,I nearly muttered.
“Then, when we’d completed our mission, Marius left,” Henrik went on.
“Why?”
“I don’t know, but he seemed upset about something. Of course, he is a dragon.” Henrik sniffed, like blood-sucking vampires were so much more reliable.
“Upset at what?”
“I don’t know.”
“He’s not working a job for Gordon, is he?”
The way his eyes flickered told me I was right. “Is that a question or a statement?”
“A statement,” I said quickly, then forced myself to utter the question that might prompt an answer I couldn’t stomach. “Does his absence have anything to do with Celeste?”
Henrik snickered, like I was so pathetic, which I absolutely was.
“No.” Then he tapped his fingers, counting, and announced, “Last question.”
