“Here you go,” he said, proffering a piece of paper. “You’ll be wanting that banking information. I expect most of these accounts are buried under god-knows-how-many shell corporations and LLCs. But if this can help you out at all, more power to you.”
Albigard took the sheet and unfolded it, glancing over whatever information it contained and nodding to himself. “All information has value, Leonides.” His eyes flicked to me. “I will take my leave, now. Watch your back, demonkin. I should hate to think I’d dealt with all of this tiresome nonsense only to have you die anyway.”
“Gee, thanks,” I told him, but he was already stalking off, presumably to find someplace where a magical portal in reality wouldn’t cause mass panic.
“Pointy-eared arsehole,” Rans muttered.
I took a deep breath and let it out, smelling the sea air. “Stop complaining, lover. He got us here safely, didn’t he? Now, I don’t know about you two... but I was promised drinks with paper umbrellas. Shall we?”
TEN
TURNS OUT, TRAVELING with two vampire companions and a whole lot of cash was a pretty good way to go, when it came to cruise ships. I hadn’t been sure what to expect when we’d gatecrashed this ocean-going party. In fact, I’d half-expected it to be a straightforward stowaway situation where we’d be hiding out in the cargo hold the whole time, jokes about fancy cocktails or no. I should have had more faith.
There were probably ethical concerns related to mesmerizing the ship’s concierge into giving us a pair of high-end staterooms. Especially after I’d reamed Albigard for messing with Len’s mind. It was, however, mildly amusing to watch the guy’s expression shift from snooty dismissal of our practical, travel-stained clothes, to fawning admiration as Rans rattled off a list of everything that was to be delivered to our rooms—including what sounded like a full wardrobe’s worth of suits and dresses, complete with my exact measurements.
We did get a number of odd looks as the flustered concierge took us on a tour of the ship’s main points of interest before escorting us to our rooms. The vessel was freaking massive. It had a goddamned shopping mall, for Christ’s sake. Which... I supposed would explain how the poor guy was expected to provide us with all the stuff Rans had requested. Especially from a tiny tourist island in the middle of nowhere.
The ship also had a huge selection of food and a truly staggering amount of alcohol on offer. Not to mention a staggering number of beautiful people—especially women. They were all dressed to kill, with sparkling gems and milky cleavage as far as the eye could see. I tried not to be self-conscious in my Target top and stretchy black leggings.
“Okay,” I said, pitching my voice for vampire hearing as we passed a lounge full of rich passengers getting drunk and, in several cases, shamelessly making out on the plush furniture scattered around the room. “Why are all of the women young and hot, while half of the men look like they’re one double martini away from their next heart attack?”
Guthrie snorted. “Welcome to the good ol’ boys’ club. I imagine three-quarters of the female passengers are professional escorts. The remaining quarter are probably trophy wives.”
I frowned. “Oh, yeah? Well, that seems sexist as hell. Where are the rich cougars with gold-digging boy-toys on this boat? Let’s go hang out with them.”
“At a guess, they were too smart to get roped into this kind of shit-show in the first place,” Guthrie said.
I glanced at Rans, surprised that he didn’t seem more amused at the byplay. “Well,” I said lightly, “I don’t plan on playing the role of escort or trophy wife, thanks very much. So if anyone asks, I’m... I dunno... the CEO of a hot new tech startup or something.”
Rans visibly roused himself to join the conversation. “Am I to be your arm candy, then? I daresay I’m a bit rusty in the role, when it’s not taking place in a sex dungeon.”
“No, not at all,” I said, before generously adding, “Tell you what—you can be my partner in the startup. We found unexpected love over three a.m. Chinese takeout when we were poring over the accounts receivable.”
“How terribly romantic,” Rans said, flashing a smile at me.
I couldn’t help noticing that it looked forced, just as I couldn’t help noticing the tension coiling along his spine... or the fact that a man who normally thrived on this kind of banter still seemed to be visibly phoning it in.
“Hey, I can totally be romantic,” I told him, doing my best to keep things light. I nudged his shoulder with mine, gratified when he tangled our fingers together in response. And if his grip was a bit too tight? Well, at least we might finally be facing a lull in the ongoing series of crises that made up our lives these days. With luck, that lull would last long enough for me to get to the bottom of whatever had been quietly eating him alive these past few days.
Finally, we ended up at our staterooms. The still-dazed concierge showed us around the one Rans and I were supposed to share, and we tagged along as he continued on to Guthrie’s. I had to clamp my lips to stop the semi-hysterical noise that wanted to escape as I took in the decor. For his part, Guthrie looked like he wanted to vamp out and start ripping arteries, but he packed away his reaction a moment later in favor of a long-suffering sigh.
The concierge left with promises that everything we’d requested would be delivered to our rooms shortly. Once the door had closed behind us, I blew out a slow breath.
“Oh, my god. No offense, Guthrie, but it looks like a seventies bordello threw up in here.”
Rans gave the room a slow once-over. “Well, to be fair, seventies bordellos were usually a lot more... beige than this.”
Guthrie
