Dark Seduction (Vampire Royals of New York #2) - Sarah Piper Page 0,65
our man. We follow the stolen art—that’s our best shot. Besides, if I ran off with my tail between my legs from every demon, dark witch, and bloodsucker to cross my path, they’d probably castrate me and revoke my membership card to the shifter race.”
Dorian wanted to argue, but he’d learned long ago that once Cole set his mind on something, there was no talking him out of it.
Especially when he’d made a promise to a friend.
Besides, this truly was their best shot. If there was evidence to be found against Rudy D’Amico, it started with Vincent Estas. Dorian knew it in his gut.
Dorian leaned forward, knocking Aiden’s feet off the desk and turning back to Cole. “You realize you’re putting yourself at great personal risk, Cole.”
Cole waved away the suggestion as if it were the most ludicrous thing in the world.
“I mean it,” Dorian said. “Estas, Rogozin, D’Amico, Duchanes, the grays… Things could get ugly.”
“Can’t be much uglier ’n you.” he said.
“He’s got a point, mate.” Aiden gestured at Dorian’s face and winced. “I’ve been staring at that hideous mug for two hundred fifty-odd years, and I’m still alive. Nauseated, but alive.”
“Be serious,” Dorian said. “If anything were to—”
“I’m totally serious,” Aiden said. “Have you seen your face?”
Dorian grabbed the FierceConnect standard-issue stress ball from his desk, crushing it until his fingers went numb. Fucking Aiden. Fucking Cole. Dorian wanted to talk them both out of it. To thank them for entertaining his crazy scheme and implore them to walk away before they got in any deeper.
But one more glance at his friends—at the steel in their eyes, the strong set of their shoulders—and he knew his efforts would be futile.
“Thank you,” he managed, emotion tightening his throat. He trusted these men more than he trusted his own brothers.
He trusted them with his life.
With Charlotte’s life.
The men nodded, and after a beat, Aiden frowned and said, “I’m sorry, mate. I knew Charlotte was a bit unpredictable, but a thief? I truly didn’t see it coming.”
“You couldn’t have,” Dorian said. After all, Dorian himself had been right next to it—in bed with it—and he’d been blindsided too. “But… thanks.”
Aiden shrugged. “You’re clearly still in love with her, and I still think you’re a crazy obsessive bloody damn fool, and after this, if you so much as smile at a woman, I’m fingerprinting her, microchipping her, and putting her through every psychological screening test known to man. But I’ve always got your back, mate. You know that.”
Dorian nodded. He did know that. And it meant more to him than Aiden could imagine.
“So what’s our next move, Columbo?” Cole asked.
To Aiden, Dorian said, “Call Estas and tell him it’s a go. Set up the meeting for Saturday night. Cole will meet him for the exchange, and you and I will follow—from a safe distance, of course—to make sure everything goes smoothly.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Cole said.
“Excellent.” Aiden rose from the chair and stretched, cracking his neck as if he were limbering up for a fight. “I’ll have someone from H.R. send up the paperwork for my raise.”
Dorian chucked the stress ball at Aiden’s head. “Sod off, you bloody racketeer.”
“Forty percent ought to do it. A nice, round number.”
“How about dinner and a few pints?”
“Eh…” Aiden considered the offer. “Throw in dessert and a movie, a little cuddling afterwards, and you’ve got a deal.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
echoes of city’s dark past seen in chilling east village discoveries; authorities fear crimson city devil copycat
neighborhoods on edge as body count grows
midnight curfew in effect for manhattan; police urge extreme caution in wake of grisly murders
Dorian tossed the Friday edition of the Times into the bin. The gruesome headlines capped off the end of a long, hellish week, the days growing darker on all fronts.
This morning’s discovery of three more human victims in the vicinity of Bloodbath put Duchanes’ body count at two dozen since the raid on the club. The increased police presence and constant media speculation continued to drag Dorian into a past he’d never quite outrun.
Upstate, the grays were multiplying at an alarming rate, growing bolder and stronger, with Cole and his wolves reporting more sightings and fewer kills. Worse, they were starting to spread into more populated areas. Since Tuesday, four humans had been slaughtered in towns around Annendale-on-Hudson, all of them written off as animal attacks—a ridiculous assumption that would only result in more casualties. The pack seemed to be moving south along the river, likely heading for the most densely populated place