Page 6 of Grim’s Delight (The New Protectorate Syndicate #1)

Tensing, she said, “If you really wanted to, you’d have to work within their rules.

Elves care about appearances. If you stayed in the bounds of legitimacy — publicly, at least — it would be a lot harder for them to fight you.

It’d have to be splashy and loud and come with a lot of charity work, but it could be done.

The Solbournes are all about cooperation and tolerance these days.

If you’re bringing legitimate business to the territory, what can they do?

Sometimes being a bigger target makes you harder to hit. ”

For the first time since the old vampire arrived, a smile curved the corners of his hard mouth. “And he’s got you serving drinks.”

“Dahlia, come here,” Devon growled.

“She’s going to stay where she is.”

The hair on the back of her neck prickled when Devon lurched out of his seat. His face was flushed, his eyes glazed. She’d seen that look before.

“You can’t tell me what to do with my employee in my bar,” he snarled. All the tendons stood out on his neck. “She belongs to me.”

Dahlia edged back a step, her pulse hammering, but stopped when Mr. Bowan gestured for her to stay still. “Don’t worry about him, Miss McKnight. You’re safe.”

She cast a quick look around the room. None of the other servers would meet her eye as they pressed themselves into corners, making themselves smaller.

All around them, Mr. Bowan’s security was on alert, their stony gazes fixed on Devon, whose own men didn’t seem terribly interested in what was happening.

I’m definitely not safe.

But before things could escalate further, one of Mr. Bowan’s men announced, “Sir, Yvanna just arrived.”

“You’re very lucky, boy,” the old vampire sighed. “If she’d been any later, I would’ve shot you.” He raised his eyebrows at Dahlia. “Or let you do it, Miss McKnight. Now that would be fun to see. Smart girls always have a vicious streak.”

Devon sputtered. “You can’t threaten ? —”

Mr. Bowan’s fangs gleamed in the low light when his lip curled.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want. You’re nothing.

Your bar is nothing. Your family is nothing.

The only reason I deigned to step foot in your shitty establishment is because it’s neutral territory.

So do yourself a favor and shut the fuck up so the grownups can do what they came here for. ”

“Oh, sounds like you’ve been having fun without me.”

Dahlia turned her head toward the entrance to the rooftop, where a statuesque woman dressed in a forest green pantsuit stood.

Ice water poured down her spine.

She’d never met her. She’d never even seen her before. But one look at that face and the single lock of white hair by the vampire’s temple and she knew.

The resemblance to her boogeyman was uncanny. While the woman was older, with fine lines around her eyes and mouth, she was the spitting image of him.

When Yvanna’s pale gray eyes drifted her way, Dahlia dropped her gaze to the floor.

Her mouth went painfully dry. A high-pitched buzzing blocked any sound from reaching her ears.

She didn’t hear the greetings that were exchanged or whatever it was that calmed Devon enough to put his ass back in his seat.

She tried to step back, to at least pretend like she could still do her job, but Mr. Bowan stopped her again with a single raised finger.

Oh gods, he’s taunting Devon. She didn’t dare look up to see, but she knew that her boss was grinding his teeth, seeing her stand there beside a vampire who’d disrespected him.

It wasn’t like she wanted to be close to him, but the longer this went on, the worse it would be for her when Mr. Bowan left. The threat of being fired was the absolute least of her worries. A vampire whose pride had been wounded was far more dangerous than one who wanted to fuck her.

But even as she tried to think of a way to politely extract herself from the situation, she couldn’t stop glancing at Yvanna, who’d settled into her seat like a supermodel ready for her photoshoot.

There’d been no recognition in her eyes, no interest at all when they briefly looked at each other.

If the woman knew about Dahlia’s connection to her boogeyman, she didn’t show it. But that didn’t mean anything.

Her mind cartwheeled toward catastrophe. It didn’t matter how many times she reminded herself that she’d never done anything wrong. All she’d ever done was exist.

You’re fine. You’re fine. Just keep still and don’t say another word.

Movement caught her eye. Devon had gotten up from his seat again, but didn’t appear ready to launch himself at Mr. Bowan anymore.

Instead, he stalked to the far corner of the roof, where he pulled out his phone and began typing furiously.

She suspected he was whining about how things were going to Duke, who’d probably set this whole thing up.

Duke had never been interested in the bar mostly because he was more focused on where the real money was made — mainly crime.

Devon was too hapless to have gotten two obviously powerful players here himself, so she guessed it’d been his brother who orchestrated the meeting.

Why he trusted his little brother with people they wanted to impress was beyond her.

Dahlia tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Yvanna say, “…advantageous for the both of us, Alastair. You hate my nephew. I hate my nephew. I have a working womb. You have a young groom in need of a good match. I see no downsides.”

Mr. Bowan smoothed his index finger over his white mustache. “Except for the extremely notable downside of tying your inferior family to mine, you mean.”

Yvanna’s fanged smile was as sharp as a knife. “You’d get our army. And I’m willing to pay for the privilege.”

“Do I look like I’m wanting for firepower, Yvanna?” He tapped his cigar on the edge of the table again. “I’m not inclined to sell my niece’s only son for something I don’t need. Or at all. I’m fond of him.”

“Every man has his price,” Yvanna challenged, unperturbed by Mr. Bowan’s flat tone. “You wouldn’t have taken this meeting if you didn’t think you could get something out of it.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see the trainwreck up close.” Leaning his elbows on the chair’s armrests, he leaned forward like he was about to impart a secret.

“We’ve known each other for a long time, so let me be honest with you.

You’re losing the war, Yvanna. Badly. I do hate your little shit of a nephew, but even I can admit he’s going to win this one.

You’re a rat in a trap. And I don’t work with rats.

You’d be better off throwing in the towel and hoping he’s merciful. ”

Dahlia had to give her credit. It was like the harsh warning completely bounced off Yvanna’s shiny armor. “With the support of the Bowans, I could take the family back. All I need is a groom. The elders would back me if they saw I was blessed by Grim.”

Dahlia was only following about half of that. Her mind was too full of alarms to try to make sense of what in the world Yvanna was referring to. All she could think of was her boogeyman and whether any of this had to do with him.

Involuntarily, her gaze drifted upward, toward Yvanna’s striking, mature face. The breeze barely moved her black hair with its single streak of white that had been twisted in a perfect chignon. Their eyes met.

There was nothing but ice in Yvanna’s gaze. It was a pure, flat contempt that sent Dahlia’s attention skittering over the vampire’s shoulder just in time to see the small black canister land on the floor behind her chair.

She didn’t know what compelled her to shove Mr. Bowan’s shoulder, and she had no idea what she said.

Whatever it was, he listened. In less than a second, he’d slung an arm around her waist and dragged them both to the ground between the metal table and his chair.

His body twisted around hers as she held up her tray like a shield, protecting his head.

It wasn’t nearly enough to protect them from the blast.

This night is cursed, she thought, floating somewhere between consciousness and the sweet bliss of oblivion.

Her back hurt. So did her front. And her head.

Dahlia couldn’t remember why. She was used to her feet screaming at her at the end of the night, but she hadn’t been this uncomfortable since Cecilia convinced her to take that free pilates class. And the smoke ? —

She tensed and immediately regretted it. A searing pain radiated from her left shoulder. Acrid air wheezed out of her lungs as her eyes were forced open. Around her, the world was chaos.

Her vision was partially obscured by dark fabric, but she could see across the floor. Through smoke and dust, she could just make out the shape of Yvanna, laying on her side.

Or what was left of her, which wasn’t much. Terror squeezed her throat.

Instinct clawed at her insides, compelling her to move, to crawl away from the carnage as fast as possible, but she couldn’t. Something was laying on top of her, pinning her there, and the pain of even the slightest movements made stars burst in her stinging eyes.

Cold fingers tapped her cheek. It wasn’t quite a slap, but it wasn’t exactly gentle, either. “Stop moving,” a hoarse voice growled above her. “You’ll kill us both if you keep that up.”

Her bleary eyes swung upward. Mr. Bowan stared down at her, his golden skin streaked with blood and dust. His eyes were a little wide around the edges, but otherwise he seemed perfectly composed as he informed her, “Miss McKnight, do me a favor and try not to panic, but I believe we’ve been impaled with a piece of that ugly table. ”

A dying bird sort of sound escaped her throat. “We?”

He looked meaningfully down. Dahlia tried to turn her head to see what he was talking about, but her vision was obscured by a jagged piece of brushed stainless steel. It took her a long moment to understand why it was covered in blood.

Like a giant serrated knife, the metal had run right through Mr. Bowan and into her shoulder. His blood ran down the twisted surface in thick red rivulets to pool on her chest and around her wound.

Her vision went spotty again. “What— what do we do?”

“Fucking Amauris. I knew taking this meeting was a terrible idea.” The vampire’s lips pressed thin.

“I’d like to get out of here before the authorities arrive, so we’re going to have to separate.

My men are going to assist. Since you saved my life, I’m going to try very hard to not kill you in the process. ”

He glanced up at someone she couldn’t see and nodded. Not a moment later there were people everywhere, each one of them moving like they knew exactly what to do.

Panic made her legs spasm uselessly as she clawed at Mr. Bowan’s expensive coat. “Wait, wait?—”

No one listened to her. They had more important things to do — like quickly and efficiently yanking the metal out of Mr. Bowan with one hard pull. She didn’t have time to wonder if it was the right thing to do because they’d ripped it out of her, too.

White-hot pain scoured every one of her nerve endings as a hot splash of blood covered her chest. A heavy hand pressed some fabric — a shirt, maybe — into her shoulder.

She could barely feel her own fingers, but the faceless person dragged her hand up to hold pressure on the compress before they disappeared as quickly as they’d come.

Mr. Bowan grunted as he was pulled to his feet. She watched, her vision doubling, as two haggard-looking security guards pressed their coats into his front and back to stem the bleeding.

Looking pale but disconcertingly poised, he wheezed, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss McKnight. I sincerely hope you make it.”

A hysterical bubble of laughter escaped her. “L-likewise, Mr. Bowan.”