House Rules - Chloe Neill Page 0,91

hands began to shake with adrenaline. I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out distractions, and tried to remember what she’d said about the egg, about where it had been hidden. It was hidden in a high place? A place of high esteem?

“No, a place of high regard,” I whispered, opening my eyes again.

But where could that possibly be? A “place of high regard” could be virtually anywhere, if she had literally meant “high.” Chicago wasn’t without its tall buildings, after all. Could the GP have gotten it to the Willis Tower? Or the Hancock building?

What had Gabriel said? That I should be careful not to give them too much credit for a heist.

The GP had clearly accomplished a heist—the egg was no longer in its case. I’d seen that for myself. But what if, like Gabriel’s skillful card dealing, the theft was somehow an illusion?

Maybe it was time to take a look at exactly what had happened during the GP ceremony.

I put the phone away and ran back down to Ethan’s office, where Malik and the transition team were settled in around Ethan’s conference table.

Ethan stood a few feet away, not yet sitting, but clearly taking in the lay of the land—the vampires and stacks of materials at his table. Tools unable to help him solve the problem that confronted him.

But perhaps I could help.

I walked toward him, put a hand on his arm. “I need to speak to you outside.”

He glanced back, dubious of the suggestion. “Time is a bit crucial, Merit. We have less than an hour before they arrive.”

“I promise it will be worth your time.”

He watched me for a moment, his trust in me clearly not back to usual levels, but nodded and followed me into the hallway.

“I think we should check the security tapes from the GP ceremony. There should be video of the back half of the House. I’d like to see exactly what went on when the egg was stolen.”

His expression didn’t change; I could tell he was trying not to get his hopes up. “Why?”

I wet my lips nervously. “I’m not entirely sure yet. But I’ve spoken with the particular source you don’t approve of, and let’s just say I think it’s worth checking out.”

He looked at me in silence for a moment. “Merit—” he began, and I knew he was going to tell me I was wrong.

But I wasn’t wrong. I was right, and I knew it. I just wasn’t sure how I was right.

“I’m asking you to trust me. I know I’m not good at being a girlfriend, but I’ve tried my best since I joined this House—without my consent, I might add—to protect it. To keep it safe.”

“Without your consent?”

I smiled a little. “I just threw that in for tension relief. But that’s not the point. Just give me a few minutes, Ethan. Humor me.”

Ethan tapped his fingers against his hip, undoubtedly debating the value of spending precious minutes on an untested plan, instead of working on the plans he already had in place.

Without a word, he started down the hallway. I followed him, hope deflating, afraid he’d refused to believe me because he was still angry, or because the idea was really just that bad.

But he passed his office and headed for the stairs, and then walked down to the basement.

The Ops Room was abuzz. The overhead screen showed a group of photos, pictures of the Navarre House vampires, some of them crossed out, presumably because Luc had eliminated them as murder suspects.

I would have been surprised that the electronics were still here and operational. But there was an emergency plan for the Ops Room, too—an electromagnetic switch that, when pushed, would wipe clean the electronics where they stood. Luc didn’t have to worry about packing; nor did he have to worry about any new residents of Cadogan House taking our sensitive information.

“Liege?” Luc asked, glancing between us when we entered. “Is everything all right?”

“We need to see video of the GP ceremony,” Ethan said. “Can you arrange that?”

“Um, sure. Do I get to know the punch line?”

“We’re curious about the egg theft.”

“I’m listening,” Luc said, tapping a tablet to pull up video from the security cameras.

The screen went dark, and then the video popped up. It was black-and-white and grainy, but the figures posturing on the lawn were clear enough. The GP appeared in its typical V formation.

“Goose on the lawn,” Luc said.

“Goose?” I asked.

“That V formation. I like to use derogatory terms to describe the GP