The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12) - J.R. Ward Page 0,44

priest. “To what do I owe this honor.”

As Assail paced around his kitchen, he checked his watch. Turned in front of the sink. Strode back toward the bar. Checked his watch again.

Ehric had left about twenty-one—no, twenty-two minutes ago—and the trip that he’d been sent on should have required twenty-five at the most.

Assail’s heart pounded. He had a plan for the evening and this first piece was as critical as the conclusion.

He took out his cell phone and dialed—

The double beep that went off indicated that a vehicle was entering the garage.

Assail ran to the mudroom, threw open the reinforced door, and tried to see into the black-tinted windows of his bulletproof Range Rover. Had the cousins in fact secured …

Protocol was to wait for everything to be closed up again before exiting any vehicle, but impatience and that fear that was plaguing him threw the sensible rule right out the dormer: Striding fast over the bald concrete floor, he zeroed in on the SUV as Ehric cut the engine and got out along with his brother.

Before Assail could make an assessment of his cousins’ faces, or start barking demands for explanation, the rear door opened slowly.

Ehric and his brother froze. Like they maybe hadn’t had a lot of control over their cargo—and knew anything could happen next.

The older human female who emerged was five feet tall and stocky as a bureau. Her hair was thick and white and curled back from her lined face, and her dark eyes stared out bright and intelligent from a heavy overhang of lid. Beneath a shaggy black wool coat, her dress was a simple, bag-like blue flowered frock, but her short-heeled shoes and her matching bag were patent leather—as if she’d wanted to wear the best she had and that was all that was in her closet.

He bowed to her. “Madam, welcome.”

Sola’s grandmother held her little purse just under her bosom. “My things. I have them.”

Her Portuguese accent was heavy, and he had to sift through the words to translate.

“Good.” He nodded at the cousins and at the command, they went around to the back of the SUV and took out three modest mismatched suitcases. “Your room is ready.”

She nodded curtly. “Proceed.”

As Ehric came around with the luggage, he popped a brow and he was right to be shocked. Assail didn’t take kindly to being ordered around.

Allowances would be made with her, however.

“But of course.” Assail took a step back and bowed again, indicating the door that he’d stepped out of.

Regal as a queen, the little old lady clipped along across the floor toward the three shallow steps that led into the house.

Assail jumped ahead to open things up. “This is our utility room. Onward unto the kitchen.”

He fell in behind her, swallowing his impatience. Yet there was no hurry. He had to make sure that the legitimate face of Benloise’s empire was empty of its art dealers and office workers before he could go there. And that would be a good hour at least.

He continued on his tour. “Beyond, the eating alcove and the entertaining space.” As he walked ahead into the tremendous open space that overlooked the Hudson, he regarded his sparse furnishings with a new eye. “Not that I care for entertaining.”

There was nothing personal in the house. Just the “staging” that had been installed to sell the property, anonymous vases and rugs and set pieces of neutral sofas and love seats. The same was true with the bedrooms, of which there were four down below and one on the second floor.

“My office is over here—”

He stopped. Frowned. Looked about.

Had to backtrack to the kitchen in order to find the various parties.

Sola’s grandmother had her head in the Sub-Zero refrigerator, rather as if she were a gnome looking for a cool place in the summer.

“Madam?” Assail inquired.

She shut the door and moved on to the floor-to-ceiling cabinets. “There is nothing here. Nothing. What do you eat?”

“Ah…” Assail found himself looking at the cousins for aid. “Usually we take our meals in town.”

The scoffing sound certainly appeared like the old-lady equivalent of Fuck that. “I need the staples.”

She pivoted on her little shiny shoes and put her hands on her hips. “Who is taking me to supermarket.”

Not an inquiry.

And as she stared up at the three of them, it appeared as though Ehric and his violent killer of a twin were as nonplussed as Assail was.

The evening had been planned out to the minute—and a trip to the local Hannaford was