“Have fun,” he told her. That dazed look on her face was so goddamn sexy. If they weren’t facing such serious issues, he would have offered to join her. He had gobbled her down and now he wanted to savor. The thought of standing under the spray of hot water with her and soaping those luscious curves he had barely had a chance to enjoy, let alone taste, made his groin tighten until he was in actual pain. But she was right, they had so much to do and so little time in which to do it. He gritted his teeth, took a step back and let her go.
Then because he was being so damn good, he gave himself a good-boy cookie and watched her beautifully rounded ass sway gently as she walked away from him. She looked like heaven and moved like sin. She stopped to swipe up one of the knives she had dropped on the couch, and his eyebrows shot up. He wondered what that was about. What an incomprehensible, crazy-hot wicked witch. She was like reading a murder mystery novel, all cliff-hangers and smoking guns, only she was so much more fun.
The suite had two bedrooms. She disappeared into the nearest one, and he forced himself to get relevant.
His first phone call should go toward the issue that would take the longest to accomplish. He used switchboard services to connect to the Illinois Cook County morgue then went through a long series of voice prompts until he reached the Medical Examiner’s Office of Paranormal Affairs. He had been prepared to leave a voicemail message, so he was pleasantly surprised when Seremela picked up and said, “Dr. Telemar speaking. Make it brief, or I’ll get bored and hang up on you.”
“Seremela,” Rune said. “How are you doing?”
The medusa’s voice warmed with surprised pleasure. “Rune! How nice to hear from you. I’m doing fine, thank you. Things have calmed down considerably around here. My office hasn’t seen a single dead body since the last time we talked. How are you? How was your trip to Adriyel?”
He smiled. That was her polite way of saying things had calmed down ever since Tiago and Niniane had left Chicago. “I’m doing well, thanks. Adriyel was eventful, but at least the coronation took place, and the last I heard, Niniane and Tiago were fine. Listen, I’m afraid I’ve got to cut right to the chase. I’m involved in an issue in San Francisco that’s turned urgent, and I was hoping you would be available for a consult.”
“That sounds intriguing,” Seremela said. “And you already know my workload here is less than hectic. What’s the issue?”
“I can’t tell you over the phone,” he said. “The consult would have to be in person. But you would be compensated handsomely for your time, and of course for all your travel expenses.” He would see to that personally. He waited a short time for her to process the request. Then he said, “I need you here quickly, Seremela. This is life or death.”
The sound of his own words punched him in the face. Fuck, it really was life or death. Carling’s life, Carling’s death. He broke into a cold sweat.
Don’t panic, son. Get things done.
The pleasure in Seremela’s voice turned somber. “Of course,” she said, so immediately he could have kissed her. “I’ll be glad to help in any way I can. I’ll book the first flight I can get.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll charter something for you instead. It’ll get you here more quickly.”
“Guess I’d better hang up so I can go home and pack a bag,” Seremela said. “I’ll head straight for . . . O’Hare?”
“That’ll do. Give me a cell phone number so I can get in touch with you in transit if I have to.” She rattled off a series of digits, and he jotted them down. “Seremela. I’m going to owe you a big one. Thank you.”
“Forget about it, you’re welcome. Now get me that flight.”
She hung up, and Rune dialed Tucker, the Wyr-badger in Chicago who was on retainer to handle such local needs on short notice. A taciturn, rather unfriendly individual, Tucker worked well in isolation outside of the Wyr demesne. Rune didn’t bother to explain that he was acting outside of the Wyr demesne’s interests. He wasn’t sure Tucker would get the distinction, or care anyway.
The Wyr-badger listened as Rune explained what he needed. Then Tucker said, “What you’re really saying is you want me to get snakes on a plane.”
Rune coughed out a laugh. Tucker was so often surly, his odd, rare humor usually came as a surprise. “You are not at all PC, my friend.”
“That’s why I live all by myself.”
“I need this as fast as possible.”
“I’m on it.” Tucker hung up.
Rune moved on to other things. He called the concierge desk to request a personal shopper. He got connected with pleasing alacrity to a woman named Gia. He was in the process of explaining to her exactly what he wanted her to acquire when the call-waiting on the phone beeped. He switched the line over.
Tucker said, “Flight is chartered. A plane will be waiting for Dr. Telemar when she reaches the airport. The good doctor will be with you by evening.”
“Awesome.” The clench in his gut eased a bit.
“Just so you know, the company we use is wicked booked right now. I had to get them to bump a couple of other contracts to get a plane. This is going to cost you.”
“Cost is irrelevant,” Rune said. He switched back to the shopper, finished his order and hung up.