An Inconvenient Arrangement (Inconvenient Matches Book #2)

Chapter 20: The Phantom and The Viper

Something was different, he could tell as soon as he entered the nondescript tavern in one of the many middle-class locales of London. The kind of place where one would not blink if they saw a well-dressed man enter one minute, and a dockworker leave the next. Ordinary, nothing worth noticing or thinking about. And yet, the tense feeling persisted, as if the building itself was holding its breath in anticipation. The tavern keeper nodded to him in greeting as he typically did and Rafe returned the gesture before slipping into the backrooms and taking the stairwell down to the actual headquarters.

It was late so the staff was sparse, but he knew The Major would be here. The man never went home, wherever home was. Though Rafe supposed that staying at the office was preferable to returning to an empty home, a constant reminder of the family he had lost. If something happened to his family, his father, or Jane, or Sylvie......Rafe would likely sink to depths from where there would be no redemption.

He saw the dogs first, three large beasts, two black and one white that stood to attention immediately as he approached. They bared their teeth, growling protectively and Rafe had no doubt that he would take a few more steps and be able to see their master. The dogs snarled as he approached, warning him that they could easily take apart a man if he threatened their master.

The hounds would be a problem if it came to a confrontation. Rafe would have to find a way to circumvent them.

A sharp command uttered in Hindi cut across the room, the hounds reluctantly sitting back down placidly, and then Rafe finally set his eyes on him. The motherfucker who would have hurt Sylvie if Rafe hadn't arrived in time. The motherfucker who Rafe was going to take apart one limb at a time. Just as soon as he could prove it. Rafe was powerful, yes, but not powerful enough to kill one of The Collective's most significant assets without proof. The Major would not let him have the man who was like a son to him unless Rafe could show him without a doubt that The Viper had betrayed The Collective.

"Been a while, Carlisle," The Viper eyed him from his position across the room, his head cocked like a predator inspecting an injured gazelle. A sardonic smile played at his lips that had Rafe's hackles rising. He'd lost weight since Rafe had last seen him, his scars standing out in stark relief against his tanned skin. Just like Sylvie said, he had a beard now that somehow made him look even more deadly.

The Viper was the English mastiff to Raphael's panther; hulking where he was sleek, broad where Raphael was lean, his gait without the casual, inherent grace of Raphael's legs but with a heaviness and purpose that Rafe lacked. Different, yes, but lethal all the same.

While The Viper was not as fair as an Englishman, the current hue of his skin was darker than usual- he must have been spending a good deal of time in the sun. Rafe bristled at being called by his title, the subtle jab implying that he was undeserving of his position among the members. As if he hadn't sacrificed, as if he hadn't soiled his soul just as much as the rest.

"So, you let Trentham get away," Rafe infused his own mocking lilt into that statement. "There's no harm in asking for backup when you're outmatched, Viper."

"Hmmmm," The Viper rumbled. "The man who has been hunting a ghost unsuccessfully for eight years might want to refrain from giving me advice. As I see it, there's only one of us that knows how to get their shit done. At least I can prove my quarry exists. Ah, I do see an element of irony there, Phantom."

Rafe's heart began pumping at the obvious smugness behind those words, at one time he would have assumed it was because The Viper thought himself superior to him in skill. Now, though, those words clanged against Rafe's ears as a taunt that he would never be able to prove The Viper's involvement and that The Viper was confident in that knowledge.