I’d signed six things and my stack wasn’t getting any smaller. It was like the paperwork was breeding while I worked.
“Where are you going to get a ship?” Jim asked.
“We can use a commercial freighter and catch a ride,” Curran said.
“Won’t work,” Jim said. “Crossing the Atlantic is a bitch. You can get there in three weeks or so, but you may have to get out in a hurry, with ten drums of the panacea, and there is no guarantee the freighter will come back for another trip in time. You’ll need to hire a ship and crew, and they will have to sit in port for about a month waiting for you.”
“Then let’s hire one,” Curran said. “Or buy one. I don’t care.”
“I don’t know if we can. It’s not just a question of money. It’s getting an experienced captain and crew on short notice.” Jim drummed his fingers on the table and rose. “I need to get on that.”
A young man walked up and stopped in the doorway. He moved with complete silence, like a ghost. Still lean, but on the way to filling out, he had short brown hair and the kind of face that made you stop in your tracks. Not that long ago, people stopped and stared because he was beautiful. Now they stopped because they weren’t sure what a man with a face like that would do next.
Back when he was pretty, Jim had used him for covert work. People had discounted Derek Gaunt as a boy toy, but he missed nothing. He didn’t exactly have a happy childhood. It made him ruthless, hard, and disciplined, and he dedicated himself to the task completely.
Then bad things happened and Derek’s face paid the price. His good bone structure was still there, but trauma had thickened his clean lines and stripped any remnants of softness from his features. His brown eyes had turned hard and distant, and when he decided to be unfriendly, they went completely flat. I’d seen that kind of stare from veteran pit fighters. It said you weren’t a human being. You were an object to be removed.
The stare worried me. Derek was a friend. Even if the entire Pack turned on me, he would stay in my corner. But the humor, the spark that used to make Derek who he was, was growing dimmer and dimmer. If it disappeared, Derek would be in a bad place. I’d been there and it was hard to claw your way out of that hole.
Curran pretended not to see him. Derek didn’t say anything. He simply stood.
“Yes,” Curran said without turning.
Derek nodded and walked away without a word. Now we had five: Barabas, George, Mahon, Derek, and tentatively Keira. The contract had specified that the Carpathians expected us to bring no more than fifteen people. Curran and I settled on ten, excluding ourselves. It was a nice number and it showed that we weren’t afraid.
Jim was sitting there with that slightly glazed-over look in his eyes that usually meant that three fourths of his brain was engaged somewhere else.
“You okay?” I asked him.
He looked at me. “Where the hell am I going to find a ship . . . ?”
A guard approached the door.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Aunt B is here to speak with the Consort.”
Meeting with the alpha of Clan Bouda was like sticking your hand into a garbage disposal. The switch could be flicked on at any second.
Curran got up. “I’ve got to go.”
“Coward,” I told him.
He grinned at me. “Later, baby. Come on, Jim, you have to go, too.”
They took off down the hallway.
I looked at Barabas. “There is only one exit. How do they plan to get by her?”
“They’ll hide in the guard room until she comes through. Shall I show Aunt B in?” Barabas asked.
“There is no escape, is there?”
“No.”
I sighed. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”