As the male continued to speak in soft, sad tones, Lassiter was struck with a sudden terror that he'd led the guy wrong in some way, that he'd. . . shit, he didn't know. Fucked this up, made a bad call, sent this poor, sorry bastard in a wrong direction.
He reviewed everything he knew about the situation, starting from the ground floor, building the logic tier by tier, reconstructing where they were.
He could find no faults, no missteps. They had both done the best they could.
In the end, it appeared that was the only solace he could take - and didn't that just suck ass. The idea he might have even inadvertently harmed this male of worth was so much worse than his version of purgatory.
He should never have agreed to this.
"Fuck," he breathed as he closed his aching eyes. They had come so far, but it was as if they were chasing a moving target. The faster they ran, the farther they traveled, the farther away the end seemed to become.
"I've just got to try harder," Tohr said. "That's the only answer. I don't know what else I can do, but I've got to go deeper somehow. "
"Yeah. "
The Brother turned to him. "You're still here, right?"
Lassiter shot him a look. "If you're talking to me, that's a yes. "
"Okay. . . that's good. " The Brother punched up to his feet. "Then we've still got some time left. "
Woo-hoo. Fantastic. Like that was going to make any difference.
Outside her private cabin, Xhex stood alone on the shores of the Hudson, her boots planted in the white snow, her breath leaving her nose in puffs that drifted off over her shoulder. The sunset's peach-and-pink glow rained down on the frozen landscape from behind her, the colors picked up by the sluggish waves in the center of the channel.
There wasn't much open water left in the river - ice was building up from the shores and closing in, threatening to strangle the surface as the cold endured through the season.
Without any command from her, her symphath senses pierced the gloaming, invisible tentacles that probed the thin, frigid air. She did not expect to get any hits, but she was so used to being receptive after these last couple of months, she found that side of her wanting to stretch and extend outward, if only for exercise.
She had not found the Band of Bastards' lair. Yet.
Right person for the job, huh. Frankly, the shit was getting embarrassing.
Then again, the reasons to handle everything carefully were too many to count: So much was riding on her getting a bead on them as quietly and unobtrusively as possible, and at least the king and the Brothers understood that.
John had likewise been endlessly supportive of her mission. Patient. Ready to discuss any angle or not bring it up at all when she was at the mansion - which had been on a regular basis as it turned out: Between seeing her mother, updating the Brotherhood and the king, or even hanging out a little, she was there two or three times a week.
Yet, when it came to John, things had never gone further than a polite meal.
Even though his eyes burned for her.
She knew what he was doing. He was keeping his word, holding back until she penetrated the B. o. B. so he could prove that he meant what he said. Except, as crass as it was. . . she wanted to be with him. And not as in separated-by-a-dinner-table "be with him. "
It was an improvement over the summer and fall for them, to be sure - and not nearly enough.
Refocusing, she continued to search the environs for no good reason until all around her, darkness descended fast, the light draining out of the sky in the way of late December - which was to say, the shit flushed out like it was on the run, pursued by the cold.
Over to her left, at the mansion on th
e peninsula, lights came on rather suddenly, as if Assail had shutters on the inside of all his glass: One moment the property was unlit; the next it was like a football stadium.
Ah, yes, the gentlemale Assail. . . not.
The guy's hold on the drug scene in Caldwell was nearly secure, with no one of any significance left other than that big-fish supplier Benloise. What she couldn't figure out was who the vampire's troops were. He couldn't be operating a business that involved by himself, and yet there was never anyone coming or going from his house other than him.
Then again, why would he want his associates in his private space?
A little later, a car eased down the lane, heading out. That Jaguar of his.