The Dawn of Dae (Dae Portals Book 1) (34 page)

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one who has to beg to join me,” I reminded him. “I also require clothes. Real clothes. The type a girl can wear outside without flashing the neighborhood, in case you were uncertain.”

“Already covered, I’ll leave them on the bed. I’ll be in the kitchen.” Rob gathered the wrinkled ruins of his suit from the floor, took one look at it, and shook his head. He pulled on his pants and left the rest draped over the foot of the bed. “Take your time. I have some things to discuss with Colby.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be begging for my permission to join me,” I hollered after him.

“Okay, okay. After your bath,” he called back, and I laughed at the annoyance in his tone.

The first round would go to me. Smiling my satisfaction, I headed for the bathroom to soak away the soreness and make plans of my own—and figure out how to work around an egotistical dae determined to get in my way.

While Rob had encouraged me to take my time, I got out of the tub as soon as I had worked out the worst of the kinks. Time and experience warned me the only way to get rid of the soreness was to do more of what made me sore.

I tried not to think too much about how much I liked the idea of a repeat performance. If Rob ever found out, he’d never let me live it down. He’d probably find some way to infuriate me with his overgrown ego. He did things to me I craved to experience again, but I wasn’t going to let him walk all over me because of it.

Once I dealt with the problem of Terry Moore, I’d focus my efforts on turning the tables on Rob. I could hate his arrogance while loving his body. I chuckled, wrapped my towel around me, and emerged from the bathroom.

A bag was waiting on the bed, and when I dug through it, I found a pair of jeans, a black, sleeveless shirt, and a black sweater. Lying beside the bag was a lacy pair of panties and an equally dainty bra.

“Men,” I muttered, both cursing how pretty they were and how conscious I was of the fact I was wearing sensual underwear Rob had selected. If they were anything like the other pairs, not only would they look sexy, they’d feel divine. After peeking into the hallway to make sure neither Rob or Colby were around, I changed, wrapped my hair up in the towel, and headed for the kitchen.

Colby was on the counter having a heated debate with Rob, who had his arms crossed over his chest and was scowling at my roommate.

“No fighting before I’ve had breakfast,” I ordered, wondering if I wanted to know what had both of them so riled up.

“Mommy!”

“Dinner, apparently. You didn’t take very long, Miss Daegberht.”

“You’re supposed to be begging for the privilege of helping me kill Hasling. Make it good or you’re going home and staying out of my hair while I work,” I replied, heading for the refrigerator. I dug through the fruit drawer, grabbed a pair of apples, and decided they would serve well enough as breakfast—dinner, if Rob was to be believed. Leaning against the counter, I polished one of them on my sweater, narrowing my eyes at the dae. “Well? I’m waiting.”

“I bought the guns.”

“Unnecessary. I could have handled that on my own.”

“Terry Moore’s locations,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That has earned you the right to tag along when I break into his house and steal back Kenneth’s drugs and money,” I countered.

“You drive a hard bargain, Miss Daegberht.”

“I haven’t even gotten started, Rob. I’ll grudgingly allow the weapons as a starting point in negotiations.” Smirking, I took a bite of my apple. “I’m satisfied, for the moment, that you are physically fit to participate.”

Rob’s mouth twitched, and I had the feeling he was trying not to grin. “For the moment?”

“One can’t trust the elite to keep themselves in shape. It’s just too easy for them to shove the difficult work onto someone else.”

“How shrewd of you.”

“Mommy?” Colby hopped along the counter, and deciding one apple would suffice, I tossed my roommate the other. It disappeared with a crunch. “Mommy!”

“I think Colby wants to know why you’re giving me a hard time,” Rob supplied.

“You’re an insufferable man with a skewed perception of what constitutes as property. If you want to be there when I smash Arthur’s face into the asphalt, you need to convince me you won’t get in my way
or
steal my hit.”

Rob covered his mouth, probably to hide his grin. He coughed, and with his eyes shifting colors to a brilliant azure, he replied, “I see.”

“Does that mean you’re going to stop with your stupid property claims?”

“No.”

“Asshole,” I muttered. “Ask properly, Rob. If you want to come and be a pest, you need my permission, plain and simple.”

“You really drive a hard bargain, Miss Daegberht. Very well. May I please come help you kill Hasling?”

I glared at him, and because I liked the way he looked in his gray suit, I took my time admiring the way the dark material clung to him, hinting at his lean physique. “That’s a bit better. Show me my gun.”

Arching a brow at me, Rob sighed, muttered something, and spun on a heel to storm out of the kitchen.

“Mommy!” Colby called after the dae, sounding pleased with itself.

“You can come. Your job is to keep Rob in line,” I offered.

“Mommy.” Jumping down from the counter, my roommate hopped after Rob. “Mommy! Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.”

Sweeping back into the kitchen with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, the dae glowered at me. Anger paled Rob’s eyes to a wintry ice-blue. “You invite Colby without any fuss, but not me? That’s unfair.”

I wondered what Colby had said and how Rob understood it. Rob sighed, shaking his head at the other dae.

Maybe if I said it often enough, Rob would take the hint. “Colby doesn’t treat me like cheap property.”

“You’re not cheap.”

“If you want to come with me, you’ll wisely shut your mouth, Rob. Cheap or not, I’m not your property. If anything, you’re
my
property until further notice.”

“Is that so.”

“It is. Now, before I change my mind about letting you tag along for the run at Moore’s properties, show me the goods.”

The round went to me; Rob sighed, set the bag on the counter, and opened it up. He pulled out two small cases designed for handguns, setting each one down in turn before cracking them open.

As a general rule, weapons fell into two categories: military-grade and recreational use. Hunting rifles, bows, crossbows, and sport guns were permitted to those of the middle and higher castes with special permits. The prohibitive costs of the permits limited the possession of weapons further, and the punishment for carrying any weapon without a license tended to be steep.

When I carried, it was a small gun I could easily conceal. Knives were the weapon of choice within the fringe, since they weren’t restricted. If the government could figure out how to ban people from cooking for themselves, I’m sure they would ban kitchen knives just to put an additional stranglehold on the populace.

The handguns Rob had procured looked old, dating back from the United States prior to the crackdown on gun ownership. I whistled, my eyes widening as I looked over the black steel.

“Beretta M9. They’re old, but they’re functional, accurate, and lethal. Military-grade, and it comes with another present.”

“Ammunition, I presume.” I resisted the urge to take one of the guns out of the case. I’d seen a few Berettas around, although the ones I had handled were more modern, very illegal, and equally lethal. Not even Kenneth owned one, although he smuggled them from time to time. When he got his filthy hands on one, his street-hunting bitches all took turns with them, myself included.

While Kenneth was rich, he wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t rated for military weapons. His personal weapons were even older than the Berettas, antiques the government chose to overlook as part of an eccentric elite’s prized collection.

All of us had learned how to handle those, too.

“I have sufficient ammunition for all of the weapons, but no, that’s not the sort of present I meant. Perhaps this will entice you into allowing me to accompany you.” Rob held out an envelope.

I snatched it out of his hands, opening it to peek inside. A plasticized card waited for me, and with a puzzled frown, I pulled it out. It was a weapons permit, and when I flipped it over, my full name and picture was on the other side. It was the same image that was on my college identification card. “What the hell!”

“Temporary; it’s valid for the next two weeks. I suggested it might be prudent to grant you access to a firearm you could conceal until your kidnapper is found. The police were in agreement and suggested a permit for a Beretta, which is easy to use. I’m to teach you how to fire it so you aren’t a threat to yourself.”

“I’m sure I can figure it out.” I set the card on the counter, and emboldened by the fact I had a permit, however temporary, I grabbed one of the guns and went to work dismantling it. Rob was right; they were old, but someone had taken very good care of them. I reassembled it, grabbed the single magazine in the case, and loaded the weapon. I chambered a round, engaged the safety, and gingerly set it back in the foam.

Rob gawked at me, and with smug satisfaction, I watched him try to gather his wits. I filed his surprise at my familiarity away for later use. “The rifle?” I asked, allowing myself a smile.

The rifle was in a dozen or so pieces in another case, and Rob assembled it with the confidence of someone who had handled guns many times before. When he was finished, the barrel was longer than my arm, and I had a feeling the rounds it fired were designed to take out vehicles rather than people.

“This one’s mine. Even if you had a permit, the only way you’d be able to fire it without breaking your shoulder is with a tripod or mount.” Rob smirked at me, giving the weapon an affectionate pat. “Sometimes there are benefits to being a strong man.”

I believed him; all guns recoiled when fired, and the more power it packed, the harder it kicked. While tempted to prove him wrong, I’d let him keep the rifle.

I valued my teeth, and I didn’t want to eat the recoil of such a ridiculous weapon. “Point that thing at me and I’ll kill you myself. That’s not an assault rifle. It’s a miniature rocket launcher.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. There’s only one dae I intend to hit with this weapon.”

“He’s mine. You’re there as backup,” I reminded him.

“Negotiable.”

“Non-negotiable.”

“Mommy,” Colby complained, oozing its way to the fridge. I had no idea how it managed to get the door open without help, but with a disgruntled huff, it yanked out the entire bag of apples and pulled them to the floor.

They were gone in less than a minute without a single trace. Colby ate the bag, too, which concerned me. “You’re going to get indigestion.”

Could macaroni and cheese suffer from stomach aches? I frowned, once again puzzled by how my roommate ate.

“Mommy.”

“You need more than an apple,” Rob said, dismantling the rifle and returning it to its case. “It’s going to be a rather long evening.”

“Fine. You cook, I’ll make plans.”

“I already made plans.”

“I’m changing your plans,” I informed him, digging through the case until I found the compartment holding the weapon’s shoulder holster. I slipped into it, stowed the gun, and stretched to test my range of movement. “I’m going to need a coat.”

“Already got you one, and I picked it to help conceal your gun and holster,” Rob replied.

“You’re not half as clever as you think you are,” I grumbled, grabbing hold of the duffel and pulling it towards me. I grabbed several extra magazines and stowed them in the holster’s pockets. “Give me Moore’s data so I can plan.”

The way Rob smiled at me sent a shiver running through me, and for one heart-stopping moment, I wanted to drag him back to the bedroom. I blushed, which made his smile widen into a grin. “How badly do you want it?”

I unholstered my Beretta, and in a smooth motion, disengaged the safety and aimed the weapon at his head. “I could use some target practice.”

Rob lifted his hands in surrender. “Back pocket.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, sighed, reengaged the safety, and stowed the gun. I stepped to him, slid my hands under his jacket and went on a hunt for his back pockets. I found several folded sheets of paper, which I liberated from the dae. “If you value your life, you’ll just hand me the papers you owe me without being a pain in my ass next time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good.” I returned the counter, smoothing the sheet out over the marble. Several addresses in neat handwriting awaited me, along with several names and dates. I flipped to the other sheets, which proved to be map printouts of the locations.

One of them was on Gibson Island, and I nodded my satisfaction. “We’ll do this one first. I doubt we’ll find anything, but it won’t take long to check.”

Rob leaned over my shoulder. “Waste of time.”

“No, the real waste of time is leaving stones unturned. If he was smart, he wouldn’t have left his drugs
or
his money out in plain sight; elite hide things in hidden stashes all the time. They can get away with a lot, but a drug conviction would ruin him. Last thing someone like Terry Moore would want is an eviction to the fringe. Elite are always like that,” I grumbled, and my resentment over the system flared. The elite benefited the most, but unless they were of the highest tier, even they were prey to those above them.