Psy & Changelings 11 - Tangle of Need

be a possible blind spot in a fight. Because of its shape, the warehouse didn’t really possess any shadowy corners, part of the reason Riaz had chosen it.
    “We’ve disabled the surveillance equipment as you asked,” Nate said to Riaz, “but one of the techs is standing by if you want anything functional.”
    Hawke shook his head, crossing the cavernous space to slide open the wide door that led out onto the pier. “No, we’ll lose their trust if they figure out they’re being monitored.”
    “In that case, the place is all yours. Call me once you’re done and I’ll send someone to lock it up. Good luck.” The DarkRiver sentinel left with those words.
    Riaz and Kenji followed Riley and Hawke out onto the pier. Seagulls cawed overhead, the scent of brine and fish pungent in Riaz’s nostrils, the wind rifling through his hair. Taking a deep breath, he scoped the area one more time. While it allowed easy access to and from the Bay, once on the pier, their guests would be blocked from the view of the other warehouses by the high fences on both sides.
    Given BlackSea’s preference to stay under the radar, he and Nate had even rigged up a temporary boathouse, ensuring Miane’s group could go straight from their boat to the pier. Nate had suggested BlackSea might simply swim in, but Riaz didn’t think they’d be anything but besuited, polished professionals.
    He was proven right.
    “Here they come.” The sleek craft cut through the water with the grace of a dancer, its engine near silent. Unsurprising—BlackSea’s shipbuilding arm was considered to be peerless, its craftsmen and craftswomen artists.
    The vessel slipped into the temporary boathouse and docked. And then Miane Levèque was stepping onto the pier with two unfamiliar men and Emani. Dressed in a neat skirt suit of deep green, Miane was a woman of medium height with translucent hazel eyes uptilted a fraction at the corners and stick-straight hair of ebony, the black too soft to be called jet.
    That hair was cut into a blunt fringe above her eyes, throwing them into sharp relief. Her skin was a shade that placed her ancestry in Northern Africa or the Middle East, or possibly part of South America. Riaz didn’t have to guess—he’d done his research, knew she’d been born in the port of Cairo to an Algerian mother and an Egyptian father.
    “Hawke.” She held out a hand that bore scars from more than a few nicks and cuts, though her nails were manicured and polished a glossy shade Riaz thought might be called oyster.
    Hawke shook it, holding her cool, almost cold gaze. Riley introduced himself a second later, giving Miane a reason to look away. It was analmost ritualistic dance when two alphas met for the first time. Left to their own devices, they’d stare until one of them either backed down or drew first blood.
    Riaz remained in the background with Kenji, his attention on the men who’d come with the BlackSea alpha, both clearly there for her protection, regardless of any status they held in the Conclave. That wasn’t an insult—he and the other lieutenants were here for Hawke’s protection. None of them would drop their guard at any time, in case this was a giant double-cross and BlackSea was aiming for the assassination of the most powerful alpha in the country.
    “Please,” Miane said, taking a small step back, her feet encased in black leather-synth heels that made a clipping sound on the plascrete, “join me on my vessel. The stateroom is more than adequate for this meeting.”
    A gracious offer meant to put them off their game, their wolves having a strong dislike for the motion of the sea. They could bear it, but it would fray tempers, reduce concentration.
    “Thanks, but I’ll decline.” Hawke bared his teeth in a smile that was a silent warning. “If you prefer not to enter the warehouse, we can talk here.”
    Miane considered it, one of her men whispering in her ear at a sub-vocal level. “Malachai says it will be easier to spy on us outdoors, use audio equipment to pick up our voices. The most secure place would be out at sea.”
    Hawke just waited. He’d made his intentions clear, and now it was up to Miane to accept or walk away. After a tense pause and another muted discussion with the hard-eyed male named Malachai, the leader of the BlackSea Conclave inclined her head, and Riaz knew she’d decided to trust them this much at least. “Let’s proceed inside.”
    Riaz left the doors open behind them.