No such luck. Not that he should expect good fortune to provide him with any kind of assist. Fate had turned its back on him a long time ago.
Gideon's message played on speaker, grim and concise: he'd gotten word that there was an inquiry made on the Order's flight logs out of Logan airport. There was no mistaking that Marek was involved, probably soon to be in Berlin himself or, at the very least, tapping local contacts or sending out feelers to determine how much the Order knew, and what they intended to do with the knowledge.
Shit.
Now more than ever, Tegan was certain they were onto something big with Petrov Odolf and the journal Elise had intercepted from Marek's courier. He didn't need any more excuse than that to quickly towel off and get dressed for a few hours' patrol of the city. With weapons strapped to his hips, thigh, and ankle, he grabbed his coat and headed down the estate's main staircase.
Reichen was just strolling out of a mahogany-paneled study with a young Darkhaven couple as Tegan neared the foyer. The youthful male was blushing fiercely under a floppy lock of strawberry-blond hair, murmuring his thanks to Reichen for some favor recently granted, while his pretty redheaded Breedmate was beaming, her hands placed lovingly atop a very prominent pregnant belly.
Congratulations to you both, Reichen said in German. I look forward to welcoming your fine, strong son once he arrives.
Thank you for agreeing to be godfather, said the young woman. You honor us well.
She went up on her toes to place a kiss on Reichen's cheek, then took her mate's hand and the two of them hurried off, gazing at each other as if the world outside them didn't exist.
Ah, love, Reichen said, glancing over at Tegan with a broad grin once the happy pair had departed. May it never sling its barbed coils around either of us, eh?
Tegan gave him a wry look, but at the moment he was fully in agreement with the cynical sentiment. He came off the last step and saw Reichen's gaze travel to the hand that rested on the butt of a loaded, holstered Beretta. Raw scrapes and traces of blood marred Tegan's knuckles from where his fist had chewed up the marble of the shower.
The German arched a dark brow.
Had a little incident upstairs, Tegan said. I'll pay you back for the damage.
Reichen dismissed the offer with a cut of his hand. I would be insulted if you tried. By my account, I am the one still in debt to you.
Forget it, Tegan said, only slightly less uncomfortable with the gratitude than he was itchy to be out of the house where Elise was likely hating him now. I need to go check things out in the city. We've had word of some activity coming out of Boston, which probably means trouble on the way over here.
Reichen's expression sobered. I've heard there have been increased Rogue problems in your city. Is it true that there were dozens of them housed at the location the Order destroyed last summer?
We didn't stop to count, but yeah. It was a large lair.
The Darkhaven male swore softly. Breed vampires gone Rogue aren't exactly social creatures. To have so many in one place is troubling to say the least. You don't suppose they were attempting to organize?
It's possible, Tegan said, knowing full well that was exactly what Marek was orchestrating. That is, before the Order had rolled out a C-4 welcome mat at the abandoned asylum where the bulk of Marek's suckhead army had been headquartered. Tegan. Reichen cleared his throat. If you--or the Order--need anything at all from me, you have only to ask. I hope you know that. I would require no explanations whatsoever, and I assure you the Order would have my complete cooperation. And my trust.
Tegan saw frank honesty in the Darkhaven male's eyes, and a keen intelligence that seemed to say that for all his reckless charm and bravado, Andreas Reichen was not one to make frivolous gestures of alliance. If he offered his friendship, he offered his honor too.
Consider my resources your own, Reichen added, lowering his voice to a confidential, deadly serious level. Men, money, arms, subterfuge, or intelligence...you name it. Whatever tools I have in my reach are available to you and the rest of the warriors.
Tegan nodded his thanks. You have to know, aligning yourself with the Order isn't going to make you very popular among your Darkhaven peers, Reichen.
Perhaps not. But then who can stand the self-righteous bastards, anyway? The German clapped Tegan on the shoulder. Let me take you into town to meet someone. If you need information about any shady dealings, or movement taking place in Berlin's underbelly, then you really must talk to Helene.
The female you were with earlier tonight?
Yes. She is a dear friend...with certain other benefits. Reichen grinned. She's human, not Breedmate, in case you wondered.
Tegan had been wondering, in fact. He hadn't missed the healing bite mark on the woman's throat as Reichen had kissed her good- bye at the curb, but he hadn't detected any kind of blood scent on her. Nothing beyond the bland, coppery tang of basic Homo sapiens red cells.
And it hadn't appeared that Reichen had scrubbed the woman's mind after feeding from her either.
She knows about you--about the Breed?
Reichen nodded. She can be trusted, I assure you. I've known her for many years, and we are business partners in her club as well. She has never betrayed my trust. She won't betray yours either.
Reichen smoothed his hair back at his temples, then gestured for the mansion's front door. Come. Let me make some introductions for you.
A short while later, Tegan found himself seated in a plush red velvet booth inside a high-end brothel called Aphrodite. The place was swank and expensive, an adult playground filled with beautiful women, sumptuous furnishings, and a host of assorted pleasures to be had at a price firmly negotiated up front. Tegan watched with mild disinterest as more than one small orgy was under way in full public view.