Iron Crowned (3) by Richelle Mead

Author:Richelle Mead
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-12-14T21:48:00+00:00

Chapter 14

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I said we should go out on a date.” It took me a few days to get in to see Enrique Valdez, and Kiyo had decided to accompany me. While waiting for my appointment, I’d checked in once with the Thorn Land, only to find the whole experience frustrating. Though no one openly said it—wel , except for Jasmine—they al thought me breaking up with Dorian was the worst idea ever. I also learned from Shaya that arrangements for a war meeting were getting bogged down. Dorian insisted al three monarchs meet in person. Katrice wanted to send her nephew. There was also the matter of which kingdom would host because several others wanted to, most likely in the hopes of getting in good with one or al of us. I told Shaya I didn’t care about the details and to simply do whatever it took to finish this war quickly.

When Kiyo and I reached Enrique’s address, we found it was in a smal , sad-looking office building in one of the more rundown areas of downtown Tucson. I eyed it askance as we stood outside and waited for him to buzz us up.

“I don’t get why it took us three days to get in,” I said. “It doesn’t real y seem like he’s got that much business.”

The door buzzed, and Kiyo opened it. “Maybe it’s a cover,” he said. We walked up to the second floor, where Enrique’s office was located. “Maybe he wants to hide how successful he is.”

“That’s ridiculous—”

I stopped when the office door opened before we knocked. Even with Enrique standing in the doorway, I could see beautiful, expensive furnishings.

“Wel , I’l be damned,” I muttered, entering at Enrique’s gesture.

He was shorter than me, with deeply tanned skin and black hair starting to gray. I put him somewhere in his mid to late forties. His attire didn’t quite match the office’s opulence. In fact, it looked like stereotypical P.I. clothing from some old detective noir film, complete with a fedora.

“Markham’s girl, huh?” he asked, voice laced with a faint Spanish accent. His eyes fel on Kiyo. “And a bodyguard?”

“A friend,” I said sharply. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Right.” Enrique didn’t sound like he believed that. He pointed us to some plush leather chairs while he sat in an even bigger one across from us. A huge cherry desk was situated between us. It gleamed deep red in the late afternoon light and didn’t look like the kind of thing you’d find at IKEA.

I stared around at the rest of the office, stil amazed at how it contrasted with the exterior. Books—

ranging widely from Moby Dick to Arizona state law—lined shelves that matched the desk, and smal pieces of art—paintings, statues, et cetera—adorned the room.

“So,” began Enrique. “What’s his name, and why do you think he’s cheating on you?”

“I—huh?” I jerked my head from a sculpture that looked like some Mayan god and stared at Enrique in astonishment. “What are you talking about? Is that what Roland told you?”

“No, he didn’t tel me anything.

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