Bowing her head, she peered up from under her lashes. “God led us here. You are meant to find these creatures of Satan and bring them to God’s justice.”
She thought she might have gone too far as amusement flickered across Piers’ expression. “Yeah, we’ll definitely do that.”
Chapter Three
Piers flung himself full-length on the sofa, arms clasped behind his head, as he considered the meeting. Sexy nuns aside, this was actually bad news. Really fucking bad.
“So, did you recognize the sign?” Christian asked.
The question interrupted his less than happy thoughts. “Oh, yeah.”
“And I take it the message meant something?”
“It did.”
“And are you going to share?” Christian’s voice held an edge of impatience.
“No.” Piers didn’t want to talk about this until he’d had a chance to decide what he wanted to say and what he really wanted to keep quiet about. “It’s nothing to do with the Order. It’s personal.”
Christian didn’t appear convinced. “Do you think you should have let the sisters go?”
“Hell, yeah—they didn’t know anything else.” Besides, they wouldn’t be hard to find—the Little Sisters of Mercy. Piers was planning a visit real soon.
“You’ve got that gleam in your eye,” Christian said. “Nuns are off-limits.”
“Since when? She was hot, and I think she liked me.”
Christian shook his head but dropped the subject. “I’m heading home.” He turned to leave, but paused at the door. “Well, at least you don’t look bored anymore.”
No, he definitely wasn’t bored.
…
Roz dialed the number quickly from memory. Ryan had been trying to contact her for the last twenty-four hours. He could give her a lift home and explain why he had been filling up her cell phone with increasingly urgent messages. It was well after midnight, but she reckoned Ryan wasn’t much of a sleeper.
The red-haired receptionist, Graham, was observing her closely, an amused expression on his face. Roz resisted the urge to tell him to piss-off. That would hardly be nun-like. Instead, she turned away to give herself some semblance of privacy and spoke quietly.
“Can you pick me up? I’m in the city—SA International—you know it?”
“I know it.” Ryan sounded sleepy. Maybe she’d woken him up after all.
“Good, I’ll be waiting outside.” She put the phone down.
“You’re welcome to wait in here until your ride comes.” Graham said.
“No, thank you. I think we could both do with some fresh air.”
He let them out through the big glass double doors and stood watching. It occurred to her that she should perhaps have told Ryan to pick them up somewhere else. Did she want this man to see who she was going with? But she was almost one hundred percent sure they’d bought her story. Otherwise, why would they have let them go? Hopefully, she’d seen the last of The Order of the Shadow Accords, and of Piers Lamont.
The night was warm and the streets deserted. They were in the business district and just about everywhere was closed down for the night. Some of the tension drained from her and she breathed in deeply; she loved the scents of London—car fumes and hot city streets—and the river, which wasn’t far from here. Leaning back against the glass wall, she wondered what she should do first when she got home, a hot, bubbly bath or a big glass of scotch. Maybe a big glass of scotch while in a big, bubbly bath. She’d give herself this evening off, and tomorrow she supposed she was going to have to contact Asmodai and tell him she’d failed. If he didn’t already know. She’d only failed once before, and the consequences hadn’t been pleasant.
“You lied.” Sister Maria spoke from beside her. “We have no mother house in London.”
Roz had almost forgotten the nun was there. She was such a quiet little thing. Though she had seen everybody she knew slaughtered only hours earlier; perhaps an element of quietness was understandable.
Roz cast her a sideways glance. Sister Maria seemed to be coming around a little, a bit of color returning to her cheeks.
“I know,” she replied, “but I didn’t want to stay there. What do we know about them really? Except that they’re somehow connected with the people who broke into the convent last night.”
“I didn’t like them. They felt somehow wrong. I don’t think they were men of God.”
Roz had a brief image of those sinfully wicked blue eyes. “No, I think you might be right.”
“So where are we going?”