Page 100 of Scarlet Wars
“And luckily,” Jackson drawled, “that explanation isn’t vague at all.” He softened the sarcasm with a wink, making sure I knew he wasn’t really pissed.
“James told me you and Caden went after some human that shot at you,” he pressed. “Then you two vanish without a word, leaving him and Sean to clean up. What the hell happened?”
My attention was suddenly very fixed on counting the absent ice cubes from my glass of Scotch. “I don’t feel like talking about it. But I am sorry I screwed up the mission.”
When I looked back up, Sean and Jackson were staring at each other. Sean spoke first. “You didn’t screw anything up. We confirmed human activity in that area; that was the whole point.” His voice was softer than usual, understanding what I wasn’t saying.
Jackson gave a short nod. “Yeah. They’re both big boys. It doesn’t matter.”
Sean leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Right, so coming back to the question of who yer about to lay with… Colt or Walker?—”
“I’m not doing either of them,” I cut in, setting my glass down a little too hard.
Sean frowned. “Then whom?”
I shrugged, and leaned back against the couch cushions, swirling my drink lazily. “At this point, I don’t even care anymore. Do you have any idea how long it’s been? I’m pretty sure my pussy needs a full reboot before I can even get it to work.”
Jackson made a face like I’d described open-heart surgery. “Not the best visual, Em.”
I chuckled and tossed back another Scotch, the burn chasing away his disapproval.
“Seriously, it’s Friday night, guys,” Saoirse interjected, like she was leading some remote intervention. “Can’t you two take my girl out?”
I jabbed a finger toward the Nexus image of my sister in agreement. “Yes. Take her girl out. Let’s do something other than tracking down humans, analyzing warrants, and strategizing how to take out Chiefs.”
Jackson pretended to examine the label on his bottle, which was an obvious attempt at avoiding eye contact.
“I could use the distraction,” I added, softer now. No jokes. No punchlines. Just the thin, honest sound of someone trying to bargain with the world so sleep will stop being a battlefield.
Sean looked up. “We could take her to the cages. There’s a fight tonight, and I’m pretty sure Levi’s organizing an afterparty.”
I sat up straighter, sudden interest sharpening the edges of my voice. “Who’s Levi? Is he hot?”
“Excellent question,” Saoirse said, nodding so enthusiastically she nearly bounced.
Jackson’s gaze snagged Sean like a leash. “Are you trying to get us killed?” His tone was half incredulous, half fond, the way you sound when your idiot friend suggests holding a raccoon under the moonlight.
Sean shrugged, impossibly casual. “Levi’s a Defensive here in Kanata C. He runs the fighting cages, right outside the Metasphere. No use of magic allowed, illegal in twenty-three Collectives and somehow adored in twenty-two of those. He keeps the fights messy and the drinks cheaper than Crown’s supply closet.”
“Nex him.” My tone left no room for argument. “And make sure Saoirse can see him clearly. I’ll need an expert opinion.”
Jackson muttered something under his breath about ‘terrible ideas,’ but Sean lifted his hand.
A shimmer cut through the air, and seconds later a tall blond with ridiculously blue eyes appeared. He reminded me of Jude Law in his twenties, smug, pretty, and well aware of it.
“Lords Lau and McGrath.” Levi’s grin was slow and knowing. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“Levi.” Sean’s tone was clipped. “We heard you’ve got one of your rings going tonight. That still on?”
The new guy’s smile widened. “Of course. And you’re more than welcome to join the bets. I’ll nex you the details.”
“Is there a dress code?” I asked, half-teasing.
Levi pivoted at my question, focus landing on me for the first time. “You’re Emma Thompson.”
I deadpanned, lifting a brow. “Thank you. Wasn’t sure myself till just now.”
Sean snorted into his glass. Saoirse’s laugh crackled through my own Nexus.
