Tales of the Otherworld (45 page)

Paige ratcheted her chair back, getting comfortable. “Access to pentobarbital, plus the medical know-how to use it and to make those cuts. I think we might have struck it lucky with our first shot.” She glanced at me, studying my expression. “Or not…What did you find?”

“That Ms. Arnell’s claim of child-support negligence appears to have been exaggerated. In the five years since their divorce, Billy Arnell has only defaulted on payments once. In January of this year, his factory unexpectedly shut down due to a supply problem. It was closed for almost a month. Arnell, already struggling with postholiday bills, could only make partial payments for the next two months. He has, however, been repaying the loss willingly. Currently, he owes his ex-wife less than a thousand dollars.”

“Not worth killing for, though I guess it wouldn’t clear Peter Arnell’s name. They could claim he heard his mother badmouthing his dad about support—and denying him things because of it—so he assumed his dad owed more.” She paused, thinking. “I still like Maggie Arnell, though. What about other sources of money? Life insurance, maybe, if he hadn’t remembered to remove her as beneficiary. Or if his kids were the beneficiaries, would she get control of their funds?”

“I have a call in to an insurance contact who’s looking for the policy details.”

She smiled. “One step ahead of me, then. So now our next move is …”

Her smile faded as she realized there was no “next move.” We’d finished what we’d come to accomplish and couldn’t tarry any longer, not when a complication had arisen in Geddes’s case.

It was time to go back to Portland.

S
EAN.” BENICIO CORTEZ STRODE FORWARD
and clasped his hand. “Good to see you, son. And belated congratulations on your graduation last year. I hear you’re doing an excellent job already. Your uncles must be looking over their shoulders.”

As they waited for Sean’s grandfather in the lobby of the new Cortez Portland office, Benicio peppered Sean with questions. How was Bryce? Was he enjoying political science? Did Sean miss New York? Was he settled into his new condo in L.A. yet? Was he looking forward to having Bryce home for the summer?

The questions revealed a thorough knowledge of Sean’s public life, and suggested a keen interest in his well-being. It was flattering, of course, to think that such an important man took notice of you. That was the point.

Of all four Cabal CEOs, Benicio Cortez was the most popular in the purest sense of the word—that he was well liked by the general Cabal populace. When Sean’s grandfather entered a few minutes later, Benicio greeted him, then his bodyguards—by name, asking after their families, even mentioning the names of their children. And the bodyguards—though they’d met Benicio many times before—never failed to give the desired response. They were flattered.

It was a lot of work knowing the details of his rivals’ organizations, and the lives of those people important in the organizations. But as Lucas had told Sean once, it all came down to one principle: Know thy enemy.

While his grandfather and Benicio feigned pleasant small talk, Sean
wondered yet again if he’d done the right thing, volunteering to come along so he could help Lucas.

Help Lucas? Help yourself, you mean. The only reason you’re here is to protect your ass. You’re making sure the identity of Lucas’s “client” doesn’t get leaked.

No. For once, Sean could be fairly certain the nagging voice of his conscience was wrong. While he didn’t think Lucas and Paige would turn him in, one uneasy glance in his direction when asked about their “client” might be enough.

Or is that what you’re hoping for, Sean? Outed by someone else, someone you can blame if you get disowned?

No, if he was revealed to be Lucas’s client, he wouldn’t wait to see whether his grandfather followed that information to the logical conclusion—that Sean was gay. If his client-hood came out, so would he. Voluntarily.

“There’s a meeting room upstairs,” Benicio said. “But the elevator isn’t working reliably yet. I can have my men bring the furniture to a room down here, if that’s easier for you, Thomas.”

His grandfather glared over the poke at his age and growing infirmity. Benicio was almost twenty years Thomas’s junior and as hale and vigorous as a man half that age, and Thomas Nast never appreciated the reminder. Yet when Benicio put it that way, as a considerate suggestion, Thomas couldn’t argue without sounding petty. He
could
come back with a clever rejoinder…but that would require thinking of one first, and verbal jousting wasn’t one of his grandfather’s battle skills. Instead, he said he’d try the elevator and, if it failed, the stairs would be fine.

As they headed for the elevator, Sean noticed a young woman just outside the main doors. She was walking past the window, scrutinizing the building.

Tall and slender, she wore a midriff-baring black T-shirt, red slim-fitting jeans, and knee-high boots. Her dark hair was gathered back in a hastily tied knot. Oversized shades partially obscured her face but showed a strong, fine bone structure, worthy of a runway model.

The young woman walked to the glass and put her face against it, like a kid peering through a store window. With a jolt, Sean realized who she was.

Leaving the men still talking, he hurried across the lobby and pushed open the door.

“Savannah.”

Her face lit up in a grin. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“I should ask you the same thing.”

As she walked in, Sean struggled to get over the shock of momentarily not recognizing his sister. He’d seen her just a few days ago and yet, meeting her out of context, seen at a distance in her dark glasses…He shook his head, thinking, “My God, when did this happen?” as if she’d grown from child to woman overnight.

When he turned to his grandfather, he saw he wasn’t the only one caught off guard. Benicio was smiling, clearly recognizing Savannah, but their grandfather, who hadn’t seen her in more than two years, shot Sean a look as if to say, “Who is this girl and why are you letting her into a Cabal office?”

Savannah strode past Thomas’s bodyguards, who stared after her with looks Sean didn’t like seeing directed at his sixteen-year-old sister.

A few feet from Benicio and their grandfather, Savannah whipped off her sunglasses with a dramatic flourish and a blinding smile.

“Grandpa!”

Recognition hit Sean’s grandfather, first in a slack-jawed look of shock, then in a glower.

“I am not your grandfather, Savannah,” he said.

“Oh.” Her blue eyes widened. “I didn’t mean
you
, Mr. Nast.”

She crossed to Benicio, who embraced her.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Benicio asked.

“I have a late lunch today, then a spare period, so I thought I’d swing by and see if Cassandra was still here, maybe talk her into taking me out to eat. Someplace nice. Cass might not eat, but she has great taste in restaurants.” A wicked grin. “Expensive tastes.”

“Well, I’m afraid Ms. DuCharme left a little while ago, but if you wait, Lucas and Paige will be here shortly. I’ll take the three of you out for an early dinner.” He smiled. “Someplace suitably trendy, I promise. First, though, we have some business to attend to.”

“No problem.” She glanced across the lobby. “So this is the new office, huh? Mind if I poke around? Make a nuisance of myself?”

Benicio gave her an indulgent smile. “Have fun.”

A moment later, as they stepped onto the elevator, Thomas turned to Benicio.

“You’re just going to let her ‘poke around’? Unsupervised?”

“Of course. Savannah has free run of all the Cortez offices. She’s my son’s adopted daughter. That makes her family.”

A guileless smile at Thomas, then Benicio stepped aside as his bodyguard pushed the second-floor button and the elevator doors closed.

Lucas and Paige arrived shortly after, and the meeting became a three-way struggle for control of the case, and Spencer Geddes with it.

Thomas argued that the West Coast was considered Nast territory, and this vampire’s brutal public attack while Sean and his colleagues were in nearby Tacoma was clearly a slap in the face of the Nast Cabal. Quite possibly, it might even be a taunt, or a declaration of war.

Benicio dismissed both possibilities, but claimed that a problem in Middleton fell under the jurisdiction of the Cortez Cabal, which had the closest offices—in Seattle and now here in Portland.

Lucas and Paige declared that it didn’t matter whose territory it was. The case might involve a vampire and
didn’t
involve a Cabal, so it fell to the interracial council for resolution.

Lucas said, “Cassandra and my father agreed earlier that the council—as represented by Paige and Cassandra DuCharme—will allow Spencer Geddes to remain here, in custody, as long as we are permitted unhampered access and he is not mistreated.”

Benicio’s brows rose at the word
mistreated
, but when Lucas looked his way, as if challenging him to comment, he didn’t.

“If this is council business,” Thomas said, “then what are you doing here, Lucas? Interfering on their behalf?”

“I was hired—”

“Oh, that’s right. The mysterious client, the one you won’t allow anyone to contact, to confirm his existence.”

Sean tensed, but neither Lucas’s nor Paige’s gazes flickered his way.

“All my clients are assured of complete confidentiality,” Lucas said evenly. “I cannot break that confidence.”

Not even if it meant losing control of the case. Losing control of Spencer Geddes. All to protect Sean’s privacy.

Sean took a deep breath. “What if this client was asked to come forward?” He met Lucas’s gaze. “If he understands that remaining quiet might hinder the case, he’d probably give up that right to confidentiality.”

“And that would be his decision. But at this point I don’t feel it would resolve this particular matter.” Lucas turned to Thomas. “Am I correct, sir, in assuming you would not release your claim on Spencer Geddes if I produced my client?”

Thomas’s expression answered for him. Whatever Sean might say, his grandfather wasn’t going to drop the matter.

“I wasn’t bluffing or trying to divert their attention,” Sean said afterward, when they’d left the two older men alone and gone searching for Savannah.

“I know,” Lucas said. “Your offer was sincere, as was my response. Revealing yourself to be my client will eliminate one excuse for them, but they will only find another to take its place. If you wish to tell them, I can’t stop you, but I would ask that you ensure that no one thinks I encouraged you to come forward. That would make supernaturals wary of hiring me. If you have your own reason for wanting this information to be revealed, please consider attaining that end in another way. It will not help this case.”

Sean felt his cheeks heat. Lucas kept walking, his gaze forward. Paige glanced his way with a small, sympathetic smile.

They knew.

With that, he lost any hope that discovering his presence in a gay bar might not make his family jump to the obvious conclusion. As soon as they had cause to wonder, they’d look at his dating history for reassurance—and they wouldn’t find it.

He’d never been good at “playing straight.” Rather than date women, he’d simply kept his romantic life private. Easy enough to do at college. Harder now that he was working full time in the Cabal. By their standards, it was time for him to marry and produce heirs. Before long, he’d need to make a decision.

He glanced at Lucas. Here was maybe the only person who could
understand his situation. Lucas was a Cabal son himself, but—being outside the life—he would have no personal stake in any decision Sean might make. He longed to ask Lucas’s opinion on the matter. Yet before he could work up the courage, they rounded the basement corner, heading toward the security cells, and heard Savannah’s voice ahead.

S
AVANNAH WAS TALKING TO KEPLER, THE
young officer guarding Geddes. While nothing in her body language suggested blatant flirtation, she was giving Kepler her undivided attention and that, it seemed, was encouragement enough.

Kepler was no more than Sean’s age and Savannah could—when she so desired—act mature enough to pass for eighteen. So Kepler’s attentions were not inappropriate. That didn’t mean I was eager to encourage them, though.

“I see you’ve met Savannah,” I said as we drew up beside the pair. “My ward.”

“And my sister,” Sean said, injecting the words with the warning mine had lacked.

Kepler colored slightly. “I was just telling Miss, uh, Nast, er, Cortez.”

“Levine,” Paige said. “And yes, it’s horribly confusing. Better just stick to first names.” A smile for Kepler, then she turned to Savannah. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

Kepler’s eyes widened. Flirting with a Cabal “daughter” might have an illicit allure, but he clearly didn’t feel the same about a high school student.

“I had lunch, then a spare,” Savannah said.

Paige made a show of checking her watch. “Can’t have lasted this long.”

“No, but Benicio told me to stick around and go for an early dinner with you guys. Can’t argue with Benicio Cortez, right?”

“You can try that explanation on your teachers.” She handed
Savannah her keys. “The car’s out back. Put your knapsack in. We’ll head out to eat when Benicio and Mr. Nast are done.”

Plans for an “early dinner” quickly became promises of a late one. We left word with my father that we’d be at home, and he could pick us up whenever he was ready.

The negotiations over Spencer Geddes and the case were not going well. Thomas Nast refused to cede authority to my father. Even with the most mundane of cases, this would not have surprised me.

The Nast and Cortez Cabals had been rivals for centuries. In the past few decades, that competition had hit its peak, with the title of “victor” in constant flux. The Cortez Cabal was the most powerful on the continent, which left the Nasts to accept “largest” as a consolation prize. To surrender their claim over Spencer Geddes would be to acknowledge the Cortezes as their superiors, which Thomas Nast was understandably loath to do.