The Epilogues: Part I: Badge of Honor (The Potentate of Atlanta Book 6), Hailey Edwards [year 2 reading books TXT] 📗

“You’re not a regular.” He spat on the floor at his feet. “What business you got here?”

“Make you a deal.” I wrinkled my nose. “Cooperate, or I report this dive to the health department.”

“That’s not a deal.” He bared yellowed teeth. “That’s a threat.”

“Oh, really?” I pretended confusion. “My bad.” I shrugged. “I get those two confused all the time.”

Done wasting time, Midas planted his palm on the bar top and leapt it. He landed beside the squawking bartender, shoved him back, and claimed the note. He handed it to me before jumping back to my side.

“I didn’t know you were into barhopping.”

A short laugh escaped him as he guided me out of the bar onto the sidewalk. “Funny.”

“I thought so.”

Midas tapped the paper I had yet to open. “Want me to read it for you?”

“I got it.” I mentally pulled up my big girl panties. “Here we go.”

The single line fit with what Cruz had told us, but it didn’t get any more specific.

“Neely Torres or your position as potentate,” I read out loud. “Choose.”

The kidnappers’ vagueness was driving me insane, and it was a short trip.

I didn’t want to be strung along.

I didn’t want to play games.

I wanted to be told the cost of getting my friend back and how or when to pay it.

Maybe that was their plan, to keep me so off balance they could tip me over the edge with a nudge.

“How do they expect you to answer?” He took the paper, turned it over. “Maybe it works like Wesley said.” He handed it back to me. “Write your number on it.”

The OPA had several lines dedicated to the various services we provided. One number got circulated on our cards, so that one was out. This guy would expect me to answer, and he would know that number would land him in the general mailbox. The next best thing was giving him the number of a burner cell.

And I just happened to know someone who carried one for various reasons and could loan theirs to me.

Once we got back to the Faraday, we made a quick trip to the infirmary to check on Cruz.

Faulk had positioned himself at the elevators, the only entrance or exit, and he nodded to us.

“Hadley.” Abbott embraced me like he hadn’t seen me in months instead of days. “How are you?”

“Fine.” I eased back. “Why are you acting so weird?”

“I don’t know how to handle social visits with you.” A furrow dug into his brow. “Usually you’re dying, at risk of dying, or unconscious on the verge of dying if you come to see me.”

Ouch.

“I’ll be running the gauntlet soon.” I patted his shoulder. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll lose a limb.”

“Or—” Midas glowered at me, “—we could invite him over for a movie night to catch up with you on the rare weeks you don’t require emergency medical intervention.”

“I do have a copy of Their Eyes Are Lasers on order. It’s the fifth in the series, but you don’t have to watch them in order.”

“They don’t make sense in any order.” Midas rested his hands on my shoulders. “I’ve seen them all.”

“That is a vicious lie.” I sucked in a sharp breath. “Just for that, we’ll marathon the series when the new one gets here.”

“I would be delighted to accept your offer.” Abbott smiled until his glasses slid down his nose. “Cruz is awake if you’d like to see him.”

A nurse called for him, and he made his apologies to us before joining her at the nurses’ station.

Left to find our own way, we located Cruz’s room and knocked on the door.

“Come in.” A somber quality filled his voice when he spotted me. “You have more questions?”

The lack of curiosity about his spouse’s case set me on edge until I noticed the phone in his hand.

Sharp-eyed as always, Cruz clued in to my focus. “Anca is keeping me updated on your progress.”

Thank you, Anca.

I asked her to keep Grier in the loop, but I was grateful she had included Cruz in her notifications too.

It should have occurred to me, but I couldn’t think of everything. That was why I had a team behind me.

One it would break my heart to lose, if it came down to it.

“We won’t take up much of your time.” I entered, Midas following, and shut the door. “How far in advance did you make your reservation at Marx’s?”

“It’s a standing reservation. I come to Atlanta every six months to meet with an older client. He’s a bit of a traditionalist. Same day, same time, same booth.” His hand fisted in the covers. “Routine is dangerous. I should have challenged it sooner. It made my husband an easy target that night.”

“You couldn’t have known.” I read his self-directed anger. “There was nothing you could have done.”

“I’ve thought a lot about what it would take to protect him in this world where we find ourselves.”

This conversation had taken a quick left turn, and I was getting lost fast. “Oh?”

“I have the means to have us both resuscitated.” He let that settle between my ears. “If Neely…” He shut his eyes, steadied his breath, released his grip. “We’ve agreed it’s what we both want. If Neely requires resuscitation, I’ll give him time to adjust, and then I’ll join him.”

What he proposed wasn’t out of the norm. Most humans who planned on becoming vampires chose a point in their lives to stop the clock so they could enjoy immortality in their prime. But I would be the first to admit, I never in a million years imagined Cruz Torres choosing this path. Then again, the decision may have been snatched out of his hands. Neely would never agree to spend near eternity without Cruz.

Midas rested a hand on my shoulder, a silent show of support to help me get through this.

I hated to ask, to put the idea in his head. “If that’s not an option?”

“Then I’ll return with him to Savannah.”