Part 19 (1/2)

”Maybe.”

He nodded. ”It's about time.”

”You once told me he might not be ready for a hundred years or so.”

”I was wrong. I think you've both delayed enough.”

”You're a fine one to talk.” Hadn't he and Ava danced around their relations.h.i.+p for much longer?

His brow furrowed. ”Whatever are you talking about?”

”Never mind.” But there was one more thing. I looked at Dimitri and found him waiting, as though he'd already known there was more. ”Jace figured out that his birth was engineered. He wants to know the truth.”

”Are you going to tell him?”

”I don't know. I mean, yes. I just don't know when. I'm afraid he won't-” What? That his curiosity and impetuous nature would send him into the arms of the most dangerous man in the world?

Duh.

Dimitri crooked a brow. ”Some things you don't get to choose, and you can't protect him from everything. He's a good boy, Erin. He'll find his way.”

Yeah, but I didn't know if I could wait a century or two to watch Jace recover from any side trips. Still, Dimitri had a lot of years of experience so maybe he knew what he was talking about. Of course that didn't mean I had to tell Jace tomorrow.

One hour pa.s.sed and then another as we waited in the hotel suite. Was Patrick one of those rare Unbounded who never ate anything? I pushed into his mind again, wis.h.i.+ng I could send him images of thick beefsteaks and mounds of b.u.t.tered potatoes. Delia had done it to me, put in thoughts that I'd first a.s.sumed were my own, but how?

Normally when I wanted to communicate with someone, I simply pushed out a mental thought without much preparation and it appeared almost instantly in the person's sand stream. However, the thought clearly originated outside the person's mind, so I always identified myself if there might be any doubt as to who was doing the pus.h.i.+ng. Yet people do sometimes have sudden thoughts that appear for no reason and those don't cause a mental alarm, so maybe the way I pushed thoughts into the stream is what alerted people to my presence.

Tentatively, I formed a picture in my imaginary hand and held it near the sand stream of Patrick's thoughts, working more by instinct than anything else. The idea hovered for an instant, s.h.i.+fted up and down gently, and started to move inside. Belatedly, I realized the stupidity of my actions. What if he suspected someone was messing with his mind? I could blow the entire operation if he called for backup. I reached to take back the thought, but it was sucked inside the stream.

Patrick's reaction was immediate and unexpected. Nausea filled his mind. Okay, so how was I to know he was a vegetarian? Guess that made absorbing rather challenging for him since he couldn't exactly choose not to absorb animal proteins. The good news was that he didn't seem to suspect my presence. Should I try again?

As I considered what else to suggest, he put down his magazine and reached for the phone. ”Room service?” he asked. ”I'd like to place an order. Vegetable soup and bread sticks, warm with extra b.u.t.ter.” I could see the b.u.t.ter melting in Patrick's thoughts, feel his mouth watering. ”As soon as possible. Thanks.”

Before I could tell the others, Stella was already replaying a recording of Patrick's order.

Ritter shoved in his earbud. ”Showtime,” he said, approaching the couch. I stood up to meet him. ”Our timing will start on your signal, Erin, so let us know when you're about to enter the room and we'll act. Remember, three minutes after you go in I want you at that back door.” His voice was normal but worry screamed from the shallow furrows in his forehead. Had he always been this easy to read? Had I only imagined him as a mountain of impa.s.siveness?

”Wait,” I said, reaching for Ava's coat.

He hesitated, his eyes going to mine and sending slow heat to my belly. I drew out Keene's tiny switchblade from a pocket of the coat. I'd challenged him to use words that made up communication in the mortal world, but maybe I could use his terms every bit as much as I expected him to use mine. ”I won't be needing this.”

His hand touched mine, still holding the knife, and at once I felt him around me, exuding a permanence that no longer frightened me. His fingers curled around mine, making my hand into a fist around the knife. ”You might need it. You can throw it away yourself as soon as this is over. In fact, I already have another for you.” A better one, his tone implied.

I grinned. ”I see.”

With black eyes that looked like molten rock, he drew away and started for the door where Yuan-Xin and Dimitri waited. ”Let's go.”

DIMITRI AND I GOT OFF the elevator on the tenth floor, while Ritter and Yuan-Xin continued on to the lobby. Stella directed us down and around several connected hallways to a supply closet, which Dimitri unlocked with a universal key card Stella had created for him. Inside, we donned a couple of uniforms from a rack, tucking our weapons wherever we could. Then we grabbed a laundry basket, threw in a few clean sheets and took the service elevator to the sixth floor where we waited for Jace and whoever would be taking Patrick Mann's order to his room.

Dimitri handed me two small syringes. ”In case you need to sedate Mann or if you run into anyone on your way out.”

”Thanks.” I felt jumpy and nervous, but that was normal at the beginning of a maneuver. Once we acted, the emotion would subside. I reached out, purposely absorbing more nutrients though I still felt full from absorbing the energy from Brody. At least the time waiting in the room had given my body the opportunity to heal completely; my skin had finally cooled and I felt comfortable instead of hot.

Minutes ticked by and finally the elevator dinged, opening to reveal Jace and a young male waiter with a cart-and an older man who reeked of Secret Service. Dimitri pushed onto the elevator, and I slid in next to him. The doors started to close.

”Aren't you getting off here?” the waiter asked Jace. ”I thought you pushed the b.u.t.ton.”

”Yeah, but I forgot the mop.” Jace made a face. ”Someone's apparently been sick. I don't want to go back downstairs for supplies. It's my first day and I don't want to appear incompetent. They said there's a supply closet on ten, right?”

The waiter laughed. ”Yeah. I don't envy you. My first day someone had a clogged toilet and guess who had to clean up a bathroom full of c.r.a.p? Some rich people are absolutely incompetent when it comes to-” He broke off, apparently thinking better of finis.h.i.+ng his thought in front of so many witnesses. ”They tip well,” he added. ”It won't take long before you move up. As long as you are always on time.”

”Kind of sad when cleaning up vomit is more appealing than was.h.i.+ng dishes.” Jace held up his hands. ”I think I must have washed every dish in this hotel in the past few hours.”

A smile broke over my face before I could help it, and I was glad everyone, including the Secret Service guy, laughed at the comment. I doubted the dishes would free Jace of Oliver, though, even for a month.

Jace held my gaze for a moment and then looked at the agent. His way of telling me the man was his. Fine. I'd let him have his fun. But he'd better keep his mind focused on his vomit story in case any sensing Unbounded were listening in.

The elevator came to a stop. As the door slid open, Dimitri moved toward the waiter, a syringe in his hand. Jace took a step and shoved his fist into the agent's face. Both the waiter and the agent crumpled before the door finished opening. I stepped out to make sure the hallway was clear, while the men piled our unconscious friends into the laundry basket and covered their protruding faces with a sheet. Dimitri pushed the basket into the hall.

”Package secured on ten,” I informed everyone through my mic. I didn't mention the Secret Service agent because it wouldn't change the plan and might distract everyone from the bland thoughts they were supposed to be projecting.

We headed for the sixteenth floor. I pulled out my Sig, complete with a silencer, and stuck it under the silver dome holding Patrick Mann's hot bread sticks. Moments later we stood outside his door. I pushed my thoughts into the room, but nothing appeared to have changed.

”They're going to notice the agent isn't with the cart,” I told Jace.

”I know.” He knocked at the door and raised his voice. ”Room service.”

”Going in,” I told the others. No response. Radio already isn't broadcasting, I mentally told Stella, who was the easiest to reach because of her proximity. We're going in. I stayed with her until she relayed my message to the others.

The door opened and an agent's gaze flicked over us, suspicion clouding his blue eyes. ”Where's my colleague?”

”Holding the elevator,” I said. ”He didn't want anyone else using it before we're done here.”

”I'm going to have to verify that.” He took a step toward the hallway, but Jace was already pus.h.i.+ng past me, bringing out a tranq gun from somewhere. Before the agent hit the ground, a dart in his neck, Jace kicked out to disarm the second. Meanwhile, I shoved the cart inside and leapt across the room toward the couch where Patrick Mann was still seated, looking casually up from his newspaper.

My gun was in my hand before I knew I'd reached for it. ”Get up, Patrick,” I said, sneering at the name. ”We're going for a little ride.” Near the door, Jace's opponent crashed to the ground. ”You won't need your friends,” I added.

Patrick didn't move, and he was smiling. My first indication that something had gone dreadfully wrong. ”So you did recognize me the other night,” he said.

”Of course. You're the vice president's son.” I moved closer as I spoke. If he didn't come on his own, I'd jab him with one of Dimitri's needles and drag him.

”I knew I should have had you detained.” Patrick's lip lifted in derision.

”We both know you tried. And that went so well for you.”

He waved a hand. ”Amateurs. But Delia said it was only a matter of time until you came looking for me. I'll have to ask her how she knew.”

Movement from the direction of the bedroom caught my eye. Jace! I called out silently, as I dived behind the couch.

Two unknown men burst into the sitting room, dressed in full combat gear, sword hilts rising above their backs. An Emporium hit team. They were followed by an oddly dressed shorter man. Despite his disguise of a padded jacket, long dark hair, and decidedly feminine pale blue skinny jeans, I knew him. Delia's a.s.sistant, Lew Roberts, the sensing Unbounded. His s.h.i.+eld was as black and thick as before and he was once again s.h.i.+elding his companions, masking them from my mental view. Dimitri had been wrong about the computer-generated s.h.i.+eld. They had been expecting us.