Page 197 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

I’d made it. The hotel was the Stuarts’ new cover for all things illegitimate, but I’d yet to actually step inside.

The heavy thud of sprinting footsteps perked my ears, and I glanced over my shoulder as the sensation of being watched prickled up my neck. Fighting my body’s reaction to adrenaline, I kept my breathing even, turning back to the road ahead as a man with dark hair in a slick suit turned the corner.

Face a mask of contented indifference, I met his eyes, offering a soft smile that he reciprocated immediately. As our paths crossed, I lengthened my stride, suddenly aware of eyes on my back. Human or camera was yet to be determined, but I was certainly being watched.

The warm light from the hotel lobby spilled onto the sidewalk as sunset claimed the city. I hopped inside, bypassing the irritated-looking front desk girl as she argued with someone on the phone in rapid-fire French, in favor of a beeline to the brass elevators.

If I hadn’t been aware of who owned this place, I likely would’ve found it beautiful. Regal, even. All sweeping bronze curls and rich, moody accents. The perfect vibe for one of those new-age speakeasies or cigar lounges.

I glanced up at the camera at the end of the hallway, flipped it the bird, then smiled as the clock on my watch ticked down. Just as it hit the quarter hour, the camera light turned off.

Right on time.

Ansel always said that walking this quickly was ‘moving with intention.’ Just fast enough to look like you’d be pissed to be interrupted, but not so rushed you’d draw attention. Petrified to be locked in one of those ornately carved brass traps, I rounded the lobby and resisted the urge to sprint down the long hallway to the fire escape stairs.

Certainly not my favorite place to encounter a conflict, but if I could bottleneck adversaries in a doorway, I’d have a slight advantage. The appeal, of course, was the lack of surveillance—something I fully intended to exploit, as security had likely already raised the alarm.

Relief washed through me as the thick metal door slammed shut, echoing off the concrete walls a beat before I broke into a run. The weight of the drives suddenly seemed infinitely heavier as I bolted up flight after flight, cursing Calypso and Cyrus both for choosing the top fucking floor.

Pretentious assholes.

My breath scraped hotly up my lungs by the time I reached the seventh level. I peered through the window down the hallway. Was it a law that even boutique hotels had to have creepy-ass hallways? Because for fuck’s sake, nobody actually likes that looming patterned floor, do they?

Eyes tracing the suite numbers, I counted: 740, 739, 738…

My ears strained for sounds below—sirens blocks away—but I shoved them aside, searching for anything more pressing. Hearing nothing but my own pounding heart, I abandoned the bag in front of Calypso’s door—at least, according to the directory Tessa had tapped into for me.

Step one, complete.

Step two—get to the opposite stairwell in case anyone saw me enter the first, and get the fuck out.

I made it about a quarter of the way down the hallway before a door flew open and a leather-clad arm reached through. Before I could dodge, his firm grip wrapped around my elbow, yanking me back through the threshold and sending me tumbling into a dimly lit…sky palace, for lack of a better word.

It was the most open-concept hotel suite I’d ever seen.

Not suite, I noted as I spun on my heel. Based on the art and well-loved belongings haphazardly strewn about, this was a home.

I fought the yelp in my throat as my attempted turn was overpowered, lashing out with an arm that met immediate resistance as a broad hand seized it and pinned it to my side.

With a snarl, I snapped my gaze to raging hazel eyes.

THIRTY-EIGHT

RETHINK THAT

CYRUS

Carr

Security is down. Nothing but static. Last recording was Freya Porter flipping us off. Do you have Cali?

“Are you insane?” I ground out, yanking her roughly into my space. Freya’s eyes widened as she looked up at me, mouth parting before she masked the surprise. I dragged her further inside and slid the deadbolt shut.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Get out of my way,” she snapped, glaring at the door like she could eviscerate it with will alone.

“What in the hell are you doing here?”