In contrast to the seasonal accoutrements, he was willing to bet the Virgin Mary statues were permanent.
When her vehicle stopped and stayed that way, he closed in, parking four houses down and killing his lights. She didn’t get out of the car right away, and when she finally did, she wasn’t wearing the parka and tight ski pants she’d had on whilst spying on him. Instead, she had changed into a thick red sweater and a pair of jeans.
She’d let her hair down.
And the heavy, brunette weight reached below her shoulders, curling at the ends.
He growled in the darkness.
With quick, easy strides, she surmounted the four shallow concrete steps leading up to the modest entrance of the home. Propping open the screen door with its curlicue metalwork, she buttressed the thing with her hip, let herself in with a key, and closed things back up.
As a light came on downstairs, he watched her shape walk through the front room, the thin privacy drapes giving him only a sense of her movement, not any kind of clear view.
He thought of his own screens. It had taken him a long time to perfect that invention, and the Hudson River house had been perfect for piloting them. The barriers worked even better than he’d anticipated.
But she was smart enough to have picked up on the anomalies, and he wondered what the giveaway had been.
On the second floor, a light came on, as if someone who had been resting had stirred at her arrival.
His fangs pulsed. The idea that some human man was awaiting her in their mated bedroom made him want to establish his dominance—even though that didn’t make sense. After all, he was tracking her for his own self-protection, and nothing more.
Absolutely nothing more.
Just as his hand sought the car door handle, his phone rang. Good timing.
When he saw who it was, he frowned and put the cell up to his ear. “Two calls in such a short time. To what do I owe this honor?”
Rehvenge was not amused. “You didn’t get back to me.”
“Was I required to?”
“Watch yourself, boy.”
Assail’s eyes remained locked on the little house. He was curiously desperate to know what was going on inside. Was she heading up the stairs, undressing as she went?
Exactly who was she hiding her pursuits from? And she was in fact hiding them—otherwise, why change in the car prior to entering the house?
“Hello?”
“I appreciate the kind invitation,” he heard himself say.
“It’s not an invitation. You’re a goddamn member of the Council now that you’re in the New World.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
Assail thought back to the meeting at Elan’s house in the early winter, the one Rehvenge had not known about, the one to which the Band of Bastards had shown up and flexed their muscle. He also thought of the attempt on Wrath, the Blind King’s life—on Assail’s own property, for godsakes.
Too much drama for his liking.
With practiced ease, he launched into the same speech he had given Xcor’s faction. “I am a businessman by predilection and purpose. Although I respect both the current sovereignty and the Council’s power base, I cannot divert energy or time away from my enterprise. Not now, nor in the future.”
There was a stretch of silence. And then that deep, ever-so-evil voice came over the connection. “I’ve heard about your business.”
“Have you.”
“I was in it myself for a number of years.”
“So I understand.”
“I managed to do both.”
Assail smiled into the darkness. “Mayhap I am not as talented as you.”
“I’m going to make something perfectly clear. If you don’t show up at that meeting, I’m going to assume you’re playing on the wrong team.”
“By that very statement, you acknowledge there are two and they are opposed.”
“Take it as you will. But if you’re not with me and the king, you are my enemy and his.”
And that was precisely what Xcor had said. Then again, was there any other position in this growing war?
“The king was shot at your house, Assail.”
“So I recollect,” he muttered dryly.
“I’d think you’d want to put to rest any notion of your involvement.”
“I already have. I told the Brothers that very night that I had nothing to do with it. I gave them the vehicle in which they escaped with the king. Why would I do any such thing if I were a traitor?”
“To save your own ass.”
“I am quite accomplished at that without the benefit of conversation, I assure you.”
“So what’s your schedule like?”
The light on the second story was extinguished, and he had to wonder what the woman was doing in the darkness—and with whom.
Of their own volition, his fangs bared themselves.
“Assail. You are seriously boring me with this hard-to-get bullshit.”
Assail put the Range Rover in gear. He was not going to sit upon the curb whilst whatever happened inside…happened. She was clearly home for the night, and staying there. Besides, his phone would alert him in the event that her car was once again set into motion.
As he rolled into the street and gathered speed, he spoke with clarity. “I am herewith resigning my position on the Council. My neutrality in this battle for the crown shall not be questioned by either side—”
“And you know who the players are, don’t you.”
“I shall make this as bald as I am able—I have no side here, Rehvenge. I do not know how to state this more plainly—and I will not be pulled into the war either by you and your king, or by any other. Do not attempt to push me, and know that the neutrality I present to you is exactly what I give to them.”
On that note, he had made a vow to Elan and Xcor not to reveal their identities, and he was going to keep it—not because he believed the group would e’er return the favor to him, but rather for the simple fact that, depending upon who won this tussle, a confidant to either side would be viewed either as a whistle-blower to be eradicated or a hero to be lauded. The problem was, one wouldn’t know which until the end, and he was uninterested in such a gamble.
“So you have been approached,” Rehv stated.
“I received a copy of the letter they sent in the spring of this year, yes.”
“Is that the only contact you’ve had?”
“Yes.”
“You’re lying to me.”
Assail stopped at a traffic light. “There is naught you may say or do to pull me into this, dear leahdyre.”
With menace in abundance, the male on the other end growled, “Don’t count on that, Assail.”
With that, Rehvenge hung up.
Cursing, Assail tossed his phone onto the passenger seat. Then he made two fists and banged them on the steering wheel.
If there was one thing he could not abide, it was being sucked into the vortex of other people’s arguments. He didn’t give a pence who sat on the throne, or who was in charge of the glymera. He just wanted to be left alone to make his money off the backs of rats without tails.
Was that so fucking hard to understand?
When the light turned green, he stomped on the accelerator, even though he had no real destination in mind. He just drove in a random direction…and about fifteen minutes later, he found himself going over the river on one of the bridges.
Ah, so his Range Rover had decided to take him home.
As he emerged onto the opposite shore, his phone let off a chiming sound, and he nearly ignored it. But the twins had gone out to move Benloise’s newest shipment, and he wanted to know if those petty dealers had shown up for their quotas after all.
It was not a phone call or a text.
That black Audi was on the move again.
Assail stomped on the brake, cut in front of semi that blew its horn like the f-word, and plowed up and over the snow-covered median.
He positively flew back over the inbound bridge.