“Nope.” Val ran a hand through the soft locks. “I can’t say I get where you’re coming from, but as cool as my dad is, my mom sucked.”
“Did she make you fight your brothers for every meal?” Tetra asked.
Val shook her head. “No. She left.”
The silence echoed.
“Oh,” Tetra mumbled. “Because of—”
“Yep. Because of this.” Val gestured up and down her body.
Tetra rubbed the back of her neck. “Oh.”
Silence ruled until the fries showed up.
Genevieve accelerated out of Bay Ridge with a throaty snarl, leaving Tetra in her apartment. Val blinked against the exhaustion weighing down her eyelids and shifted gears.
“We’ll be on time for you guys to open the factory,” she called over the raging V8.
Yuka leaned forward. “Would you mind taking us somewhere else today?”
Val glanced in the rearview mirror. “The factory will be safe. I’ll clear it first, and—”
“It’s not that.” A muscle flexed in Yuka’s jaw.
Blair laid a hand on her knee. “We want to get to the bottom of this problem, Val. It’s not right for us to fear for our lives all day, every day.” He paused. “We want to talk to the CEO of BrewCorp.”
Val raised her eyebrows. “The men who ambushed you last night were gang members.”
“Professional hitmen,” Yuka muttered.
Blair nodded. “I think BrewCorp sent them.”
Val paused. “It makes sense, I guess, but don’t you think confronting their CEO will pour gasoline on the fire?”
“Good thing we know somebody who can extinguish that kind of fire.” Blair patted her shoulder.
Val laughed. “I’ve never had a problem standing up to bullies. Let’s do it.”
An hour later, having fought through the interminable traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge, Genevieve wound through the narrow streets of the Financial District. Val never tired of the juxtaposition of sleek modern cars parked at the feet of old sandstone buildings that contained the newest technology in the human world.
They left the Mustang in a parking garage and walked a block to the towering building that housed BrewCorp’s offices. Its smooth, modern glass and steel lines contrasted sharply with the older buildings nearby.
“Tell me they’re on the ground floor,” Val muttered as they strolled through a minimalist lobby.
“Nope.” Blair grimaced. “They couldn’t afford the penthouse, but they tried.”
They stepped into the elevator, and Yuka groaned as she hit the button for the forty-seventh floor.
“I hate this part,” Val moaned.
The elevator raced up for what felt like centuries. Val tried not to think about how high they were going. She remembered the towering façade of the building, and her belly flipped.
“You hate elevators too?” Blair asked.
“Elevators aren’t the problem.” Val wiped the sweat from her brow. “Heights.”
“I feel you.” Yuka was pale.
None of them looked out the windows when they left the elevator. A bullpen stocked with cubicles covered on the large floor. The hum of phones and voices rippled through the space.
“There are more employees on this floor than we’ve ever had,” Blair whispered.
“There.” Yuka pointed. “That office door says CEO.”
The dwarves drew mildly curious glances from a few of the many humans working in the bullpen. Val saw the occasional puzzled frown, but the dwarves’ strong wards made the humans’ eyes glide over them, and their frowns vanished as the magic almost instantly made the humans forget their height.
The door Yuka indicated led to a small waiting area, all cream-colored carpet. A painfully thin girl sat at the desk on the far side of the room beside another door, this one wood-paneled and elegant. The girl straightened as Val walked in, leading the other dwarves.
“We’d like to speak to your CEO.” Yuka shoved past Val and strode to the desk. “Anthony Warner.”
The girl stared at her, doe-eyed. “Mr. Warner doesn’t have any appointments scheduled today.”
“Good. That means he can see us.” Val pushed the door open.
