The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12) - J.R. Ward Page 0,56

in West Point the night before—otherwise one could assume this titan of intelligence would not be so banal.

Those black masks they’d worn had been such handy equipment. And disabling those security cameras a critical tactic.

Assail smiled without flashing his fangs. “I have something to give your employer.”

“He expecting you?”

“He is not, no.”

“Okay. C’mon.”

“This is my associate, by the way,” Assail murmured as he stepped into the office area. “Ehric.”

“Yeah. I figured. C’mon.”

Striding through the high-ceilinged space, their footfalls on the concrete floor echoed up to the exposed ductwork and wiring above. Talk about organized chaos. A lineup of serviceable desks, stacks of filing cabinets, and random pieces of oversize “art” choked the huge space. No workers. No phones ringing. The legitimate face of Benloise’s wholesale drug business was on after-dark shutdown.

As expected.

Out in the gallery space proper, he shot a quick look around as the guard who’d let them in disappeared through the hidden door to the second floor.

No one but a pair of guards standing watch by the way up to Benloise’s office.

Assail regarded the men. Their stares were sharper than usual, their weight shifting incessantly, their hands moving around as if they felt the need to constantly reassure themselves they were armed.

“Lovely evening, is it not?” Assail commented as he nodded subtly at Ehric.

As the guards froze, his cousin took the cue to go on a wee walkabout, the vampire strolling around an exhibition of shredded newsprint molded into various phallic symbols.

“A little on the cold side, of course. But the flurries are rather picturesque.” Assail smiled and took out a Cuban. “May I light up?”

The one on the right pointed to a laminated notice on the wall. “No smoking.”

“Surely there can be an exception in my case?” He clipped the cigar’s end and let the butt fall to the ground. “Yes?”

The guy’s muddy brown eyes flicked down. Returned. “No smoking.”

“Nobody here but us.” He outed his lighter. Popped the top.

“You can’t do nothing like that.”

Mayhap Benloise specifically screened them for a lack of vocabulary? “In the stairwell, then?”

The genius glanced over at his partner. Then shrugged. “Guess it’s okay.”

Assail smiled again and flicked up a flame. “Let me in, then.”

It all happened so quickly. The one who’d been doing the talking twisted his torso and popped the latch that sprang the door—as, at that moment, the other chose to take a stretch, curling his arms out from his body.

Ehric materialized directly before the back cracker, clapping his hands on either side of his astonished face and snapping that neck around. Not to be o’ershown, Assail stabbed forward with the knife he had surreptitiously taken out of its hip holster, catching the guard who’d been enforcing the rules directly in the gut. Next move was to disappear his lighter and clap his hand over the man’s mouth—stifling the grunt that threatened to give them away.

To finish things up, he freed the blade with a jerk and moved upward.

The second stab went between two ribs directly into the heart.

The man dropped to the floor in a loose shamble.

“Tell your brother to ready the Rover,” Assail whispered. “And drag this out of the way. He’s going to take a minute or two to bleed out and that heavy breathing is audible.”

Ehric went into cleanup mode, grabbing thick ankles and pulling the dying man behind one of the vertical displays.

Meanwhile, Assail slipped into the hidden stairwell and lit the cigar, puffing up clouds of smoke as he moved the broken-necked guard’s hand in the way so the door stayed propped open. Ehric joined him a split second later, accepting his own Cuban and likewise lighting up as he let things shut behind them.

The linguist who’d gone to check with Benloise peered over the banister above. “What you doing?”

So that phrase was both a greeting and an inquiry. One shall make a note of that, Assail thought.

He blew out a blue stream and indicated the closed door panels. “They said we couldn’t smoke out in the gallery.”

“You can’t smoke in here, either.” The man glanced over his shoulder as if his name had been called. “Yeah, okay.” He turned around again. “He said he’ll be a minute.”

“I believe we’ll join you, then.”

The bodyguard just wasn’t on his A-game tonight, was he. Instead of controlling the situation, he simply shrugged and permitted his enemy to get closer to him, to his boss.

Such a gift.

Assail typically took his damned time, but not tonight. He and Ehric hoofed it up the metal flights at a