“Oh, pffft,” Niniane exclaimed, as she walked away with him.
“I think you’re making a mistake not getting rid of the body,” Jered said. With that parting shot, he strode after the other couple.
“For being such a bright people, sometimes the Djinn are remarkably clueless,” Dragos muttered. He turned his attention to her. “Bayne’s on his way. How long do we have until dinner is supposed to be served?”
Calculating rapidly, she said, “Soon. Maybe in five or six minutes. Gennita checked in with me just a little while ago, and I told her fifteen minutes. That was when I went to take the extra place setting off the table, and-and-and—”
Words seemed to stick in her throat as her brain seized up again.
Giving her a sharp, questioning glance, Dragos put one bracing hand on her back again, right over the tense knot between her shoulder blades. Grateful for his silent touch, she managed to stop stuttering.
Bayne rounded the corner and strode toward them, his big body a fluid, fast machine. He didn’t waste time asking questions when he reached them. Instead, he swept the scene quickly with those hard, hazel eyes, taking everything in, and then he turned to Dragos.
Pia was used to seeing Bayne smiling in a laid-back stance, usually with hands tucked into his jeans pockets. It always jarred her when the sentinels flipped some internal switch in their heads and went into warrior mode.
Dragos said to him, “Guard Pia. Go where she goes, no matter what.”
“You got it,” said Bayne.
Before Pia could mention that Eva was a perfectly adequate guard, thank you very much, Dragos added, “And Bayne? If necessary, you fly her out of D.C., and you don’t stop flying until you both get back to the Tower.”
So that was why Dragos wanted Bayne guarding her, not Eva. Eva was a highly trained, effective warrior, but her Wyr form was canine. Not only could Bayne fly, but he also had the strength to carry Pia in flight.
“Understood.” Bayne turned that hard gaze to Pia, and his expression softened somewhat as he looked down the length of her body at her bare, smudged feet.
Furiously, Pia wanted to snap at both men for thinking they could decide her fate without her input, but she managed to catch herself up before she said anything she might regret later.
She wasn’t thinking as rationally as she could be, and she knew Dragos wasn’t either. He had seen a dead body and clicked into hyperprotective mode, and nothing was going to ratchet him down again until he felt like he had gained some measure of control over the situation.
There was that concept again – control over the situation. She glanced at dead Mr. Colton again and nearly burst into hysterical laughter. Like her going into hysterics was going to help anybody. She managed to swallow that impulse down too.
Dragos turned an incandescent gold gaze onto her. He said, “Stall dinner for as long as you can. Go.”
She nodded. “Got it.”
With Bayne on her heels, she ran barefoot to the kitchen, which was awhirl with activity. The kitchen staff was busy preparing the second course to follow the salmon soufflé, delicate grilled endive salads with light shavings of aged parmesan cheese and paper-thin Parma ham arranged in a fan on top.
She didn’t try to talk over everybody else. Instead, she said telepathically, Gennita, we need to stall dinner for at least another half hour. Longer, if possible.
The chef spun to face her, eyes widening in dismay. We can’t stall dinner! The soufflés are almost done cooking!
Normally she would be much more gentle with Gennita’s wounded feelings, but now she didn’t have the emotional or physical time. She told the other woman grimly, We have much bigger problems right now than the soufflés. Get another round of hors d’oeuvres outside as fast as you can.
But they’re all gone! Gennita quivered visibly.
Pia threw up her hands. Send out the salads then! Send out anything, along with more alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.