Rhynehart studied her face, glanced quickly at his agents milling nervously in front of the portal ridge, and cocked his head. “So tell me how to equip them.”
“I don’t know. Wait, you believe me?”
He shrugged. “I know what happens when I assume you’re full of shit. And we agreed to trust each other at the very least, didn’t we?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we did.”
“Who else knows about Colonel Thomas?”
“Sir.”
Rhynehart snorted. “You went straight to him, huh?”
Cheyenne couldn’t help herself. She grinned. “Straight to his house, if you really wanna know.”
The agent looked like he was choking. “His house.”
“Guess he was off-duty today, or at least off a little early. He’s supposed to be checking into Colonel Thomas, and I’m waiting to hear back from him so we can—”
“Back up!” one of the agents shouted.
Cheyenne and Rhynehart turned to see Corian standing ten feet from the frozen Bianca Summerlin. The agents were on high alert again, hands on weapons, unable to hide their fear of the first nightstalker most of them had seen. Corian lifted both hands and tilted his head. “I’m not interested in any of you. Not in the slightest.”
“Doesn’t mean you don’t need to step back right now!”
With an amused look, Corian stepped away from Bianca, lowered his hands, and faced the agents who couldn’t handle the unexpected company.
Cheyenne shook her head. “We need to make some changes.”
“Yeah, your furry cat friend needs to get down off his high horse.”
“Well, there’s an image.”
Rhynehart shot her an exasperated glance. “You gonna offer any suggestions, halfling? Or are you enjoying your new role as the drow who tells everyone else what to do?”
She scoffed. “Please. If I say I’m gonna do something, you know I’m good for it, whether you like it or not. And yeah, I have a suggestion. Things would be a lot less tense and way less dangerous if we had a shift change.”
“I don’t know that I follow.”
“Fine. If you had a shift change.” Cheyenne nodded at the agents, who were set more on edge by unregistered magicals than by fighting in-between monsters from a portal that shouldn’t exist. “When I called in for help out here, Sir made sure you brought a team I didn’t know.”
Rhynehart grunted. “You picked up on that, huh?”
“Don’t be insulting.”
He smirked.
“These guys have no idea what to expect, and it’s making them even more unpredictable. How about getting some operatives up here who know me and trust me, first of all, and who can handle the kind of attitude every single one of these O’gúleesh dishes out on a regular basis?”
“You want me to trade out this team that’s been here for almost a week so you can hang out with your friends?”
Cheyenne cocked her head halfway in agreement. “Well, that’s what we need right now, friends. If I need to call them that to get the point across, fine. They’re my friends. And yeah, I want you to trade ‘em out.”
“Don’t tell me you’re feeling lonely.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Very funny. I’m thinking about everybody’s sanity here, Rhynehart. Not just my own. And physical wellbeing, too. Seriously, if those goblins start bashing your guys, none of your agents is making it out of here in one piece. Trust me.”
“Hmm.” The team leader squinted at his agents. “You know I’ll have to put in a request for that, right?”
“Then put in a request.” Cheyenne shrugged. “Sir’s not in any position to deny me something like that.”
“Care to explain how that’s even remotely possible?”
“Just tell him I asked for this personally. If you’re that skeptical, I’m happy to bet on it.” She flashed him a tight, completely fake grin.
Rhynehart rolled his eyes, smacked his lips, and pulled out his cell phone with a long sigh. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Oh, you’ll believe it. Don’t forget to tell him.” The halfling folded her arms and turned her back on the portal ridge, her cursed mom, the FRoE agents, and L’zar’s rebels just to get a better view of Rhynehart’s face. This is gonna make so many things worth it.
Chapter Sixty-One
Rhynehart shot Cheyenne a quick glance as he waited for Sir to pick up.
“What is it?”
“Sir. I want to run a request by you.”
“I’m not your goddamn wet-nurse, Rhynehart. That’s why you have the job you have. You don’t need a tit to suckle. Handle it yourself.”
The team leader pressed his lips together and waited for the man to finish his relatively mild outburst.
“All right. Shit.” Sir cleared his throat. “What is it?”
“Assignment change up at the Summerlin estate.”
“What the fuck for?”
Rhynehart stuck his free hand in his pocket. “To give these guys a break. Mostly.”
“Your attempt to cover that one up has whorehouse stink all over it, soldier. What’s the other reason?”
“A personal request. Tate, Yurik, and Bhandi, plus—”
“Personal request? Personal request? Who the fuck do you think we are? The Make a Magical Goddamn Wish Foundation? If your team isn’t laid out flat or hobbling away from that mansion in the middle of nowhere holding bleeding stumps where their heads should be, you’re not changing a goddamn thing about the assignment. Why the hell do you want to start switching it up now?”
Rhynehart pulled the phone away from his ear to keep from going deaf and blinked at Cheyenne. She nodded.
“Not a personal request from me, Sir.” He swallowed. “From Cheyenne—”
“Cheyenne?” Sir roared on the other end of the line, followed by the smashing of glass and heavy furniture scooting across the floor.
The halfling stared at Rhynehart’s phone. And he didn’t even put it on speaker.
“That skin-changing freakshow needs to get her dark-elf nose out of our goddamn business! And you, Rhynehart, need to grow a pair! Santa Claus on a goddamn sandwich, man! A baby treefrog has a bigger sack than you do. You look that freaky face-pierced wannabe warrior of death
