Dark Debt (Chicagoland Vampires 11)

My grandfather nodded. “We won’t monitor per se, but I would like to stay apprised. Do you think he’s looking for access?”

“If he is, he’ll be sorely disappointed by what he finds.”

“He can’t think you owe him,” Jeff said. “Not after what happened, all the time that’s passed.”

“A rational mind would expect not,” Ethan said. “But he has rarely ever been rational. His needs are paramount, and damn anyone who stands in his way.”

“I fear there is a lot of that going around,” my grandfather said, and sighed heavily before trying a light smile. “I’d wax nostalgic about the good ol’ days, but with age comes wisdom and sight, and the realization that every day is as good or as bad as the next. The difference is only in the margins.”

Ethan nodded. “Very well said. And with that, we should probably get back to the House and begin planning our next play.”

The cards would be dealt one way or the other.

*   *   *

“This is going to be a pain in the ass,” Ethan said when we slid into the backseat of the Range Rover again.

The car shook a bit as Brody climbed into the passenger seat. “Home, Sire?”

“Please.”

“And we thought this was going to be a networking event,” I said.

Ethan laughed, a knot of mirthless sound. “The best-laid plans of vampires.” He rubbed a finger across his forehead. “We must deal with this, but Balthasar will not wait long. I suspect this will be a long night.”

“I suspect you’re right.” I glanced out the window at the lights of homes and businesses, wondered at the drama that unfolded there.

“Oh, Morgan,” I said on a sigh.

Ethan slid me a glance. “Did you just say ‘oh, Morgan’?”

“I did. In exhaustion, not desire. I’m not looking forward to dealing with him.” Morgan and I had dated briefly, and he still harbored bitterness about the end of our relationship. Not, I think, because he’d truly loved me, but because he didn’t like having been passed over for Ethan.

“I’m afraid we will not be able to avoid it. Not this time.”

“I know. What did you think about Reed?”

“I didn’t interact with him much, all things considered,” Ethan said, skimming his fingers over my hand before entwining our fingers. “Likes material wealth, likes to show it off. Imagines himself very much the king of his castle.”

“His gaudy castle.”

“Just so. He has body men, which is relatively unusual for a businessman in Chicago. Is not used to people disobeying his orders. Certainly isn’t used to those who dare breach the castle walls, interrupt his feast.”

“I can’t get a read on Sorcha. She’s either really smart and very socially awkward, or really, really dumb.”

“And she must be twenty years his junior,” Ethan said, clearly not a compliment to either of them.

I just looked at him. “What?”

“Sorcha. She’s at least twenty years younger than Reed.”

It literally took me a minute to respond. “Of all the things we’ve seen tonight, that’s what offends you? That he’s in a May-December romance? Need I point out you’re nearly four hundred years older than me?”

“That’s different.”

“How is it different?”

“Because I don’t look a day over thirty.”