Crimson Highlander (Onyx Assassins 2)

Tears bit the backs of my eyes, but surrounded by two powerful vampires, my body refused to let them fall. Moorehouse genetics at their best—never let the enemy see your weakness.

But they weren’t my enemy. Not anymore.

“Foghorn’s is in human territory in Edgemont,” Ransom said once I’d torn my eyes off of the screen. The sapphire blue gems stared at me with an analyst’s gaze—sharp and calculating. “We can wend there in under a minute—”

“She’s not there,” I hurried to interrupt, nearly breathless at the heat I could feel sizzling down my spine. Lachlan, reading over my shoulder. I tossed the phone back to Ransom and shifted so I could look at both of them.

“She said she wanted a burger and a shake. It doesn’t get clearer than that,” Ransom challenged. “She also said an awful lot about a family—”

A low growl reverberated from Lachlan’s chest, and Ransom dipped his head in a silent look that said it had to be said.

I rolled my eyes. “Give me a fucking break.” I raked my palms over my face. “You have three hours and forty-five minutes until sunrise. You can question me on her entire message later.” And I knew they would. Knew they had to. But Daphne was fucking sharp. Of course, she said those things about lies and family and wanting to be enough. She was smart enough to know we may get caught. She was covering her tracks, just like I taught her.

Pride rippled through my chest, but I hurried on.

“Foghorn’s is too easy. It’s a decoy.”

Ransom glanced to Lachlan, then me.

“What stood out to you?” Lachlan asked, and my knees almost buckled at the lack of skepticism in his voice. Was this hatred between us turning into something else? Lust, that was for fucking sure, but…maybe a flimsy trust?

I couldn’t dare to hope.

“The curtains.”

“Come again?” Ransom leaned in, eyes wide.

“She mentioned loud curtains.”

“She also mentioned wallpaper and paint and loving a period piece romance series.”

I raised my brows at Ransom—if it was any other time, I’d just love to ask him how he knew what Bridgerton was about—not that anyone here had offered me Netflix.

Not. The. Time.

“Right, and if you were anyone other than me reading it, you’d either get bored with how much information she put in the email and skim it, or you’d skip to the end, realize she gave a name to a location, and watch that one.” I looked between the two vampires, my lips parted.

Lachlan nodded. “She’s leading anyone who may be monitoring her emails to another location. People who would expect us—as a favor to you—to come after her.”

“Yes,” I breathed the word. “Fucking finally.”

He shot me a look that was equal parts warning and promise, and my toes curled in my shoes. Liquid…the man made me liquid. But stronger than my want for him—my irrational, stupid fated want for this vampire—was my need to save my very innocent and very in danger cousin.”

“So where is she?” Ransom asked, and I raised my brows at him.

“The best hacker in the vampire world can’t run a mental list of what hotels or establishments have the most elaborate curtains?”

Ransom opened and closed his mouth a few times, and Lachlan did something between a growl and a bark, and it didn’t matter what it was it made me shiver.

Fucking. Hell.

I clenched my eyes shut, retreating inward, flipping through every single piece of information ever gleaned from my family and their habits. Images, phrases, codes, plans, laws, rules, rhetorics…they flashed behind my eyes like a strobe light—

“The Clementine,” I said, the name of the boutique luxury hotel bursting over my tongue. “They have a Victorian theme, and each room has different curtains with a luxury animal print.”

“Peacocks,” Lachlan muttered under his breath.

I nodded, hope building in my chest like a storm. “It makes sense why she’d mention Bridgerton too. The Clementine prides itself on collecting art and pieces from the same century.”

“It’s in human territory too,” Ransom said, nodding.

“I told you, the Moorehouses didn’t deal with other supes…other species,” I hurried to correct myself. Although Daphne wasn’t technically a Moorehouse anymore—she was betrothed to Jared Atherton. Even so, the Atherton’s were closest to my father and most likely Kyle, and they didn’t deal with supes either. Not like some of the other families who’d decided if you want to fight fire you better get some equally powerful fucking fire.

Lachlan flashed Ransom a look. Ransom winked at me before he blinked out of sight. I jumped a little at the quick exit, still not used to the powers the assassins possessed. Would I ever be?

I held out my hand, knowing from Lyric’s stories of wending with Alek that it was absolutely possible. Sure, I may feel sick afterward, but I’d chop off my hand if it meant getting Daphne away from the Sons.