“No! Please!” the girl squealed.
Val strode into the corner office, and her stomach lurched. The vast windows on two sides offered a gut-churning panorama of rooftops with the East River glittering beyond. She could almost see her Bay Ridge home from here, and she didn’t like it. The floor tipped under her feet, and Val fought the nausea that rose in her gut.
“Sir, I’m so sorry!” The girl scampered into the office. “They wouldn’t listen!”
The man behind the large, imposing desk in the corner raised a hand. “It’s all right, Melody. I know these people.” He smiled like a shark. “They own that adorable craft brewery in Brooklyn.”
BrewCorp’s CEO was much younger than Val had expected. His thick, perfectly trimmed faux hawk was pitch-black, as was his short beard, which ended in razor-edged sideburns. Dark eyes glittered above sharp cheekbones the color of terracotta. The lines of his tailored gray suit were as sharp as his haircut.
Yuka emitted a strangled gasp. Blair hastily grabbed her shoulder.
Anthony Warner steepled his fingers and smiled benevolently. “Come in, come in. Please, have a seat. Would you like coffee?”
“I would like to shove your head so far up—” Yuka began.
Val stepped in front of her. “This isn’t a social call, Mr. Warner.”
“Call me Anthony.” The CEO gestured at the leather-upholstered chairs facing the desk. “Please sit.”
Blair guided Yuka to a chair, where she trembled with fury. He sat beside her. Val stood behind them, arms folded.
“Have a seat, Miss...” Warner smiled.
“Stonehold. Their bodyguard,” Val growled. “I’ll stand. Thanks.” She locked gazes with him so that he would know that by “Thanks,” she meant “Screw you.”
Warner wisely didn’t push it. He turned his attention to the other dwarves.
“I’ve seen you at a few events, haven’t I? What’s your brewery called again?” He rubbed his chin. “Anvil, isn’t it?”
“Don’t play stupid with us, Warner,” Yuka snarled.
“We know you know who we are. You’ve threatened us before,” Blair snarled.
“Threatened?” Warner raised his eyebrows. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Convenient that you suddenly forget what you’ve said to us at events,” Yuka barked. “Warning us to stay away from your customers and telling us we’re in over our heads. Then the slashed tires and the brick through my windshield.”
Warner gave a bemused laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve confronted us many times.” Blair leaned forward.
“Don’t you remember the event in Central Park? You were there!” Yuka jabbed an accusing finger at him. “You told us that if we kept messing with your company, we’d be sorry. A dozen witnesses saw you!”
Warner spread his hands. “My dear friends, that was just business. You must know that your little brewery can’t hold a candle to a corporation like this one.” He spread his arms. “I have three factories in New York City, and if you compete with me, I assure you that you will fail.”
“We aren’t, though, are we?” Blair snapped. “That’s the problem. That was why you threw a brick at Yuka and why you sent gang enforcers to ambush us in our home last night!”
“Gang enforcers?” Warner laughed. “That is insane.”
“Who else would have sent them?” Blair barked.
Warner met his eyes, and his smile vanished with unnerving suddenness. “I don’t know, Mr. Abercrombie, but I know that that is the kind of thing that happens to those involved in illegal activities.”
Blair snarled, and Yuka grabbed him by the arm and held him back.
“This has been a very interesting visit, but you must leave now.” Warner turned his attention to his laptop. “I don’t have time for your silly accusations.”
Blair gave Yuka a helpless look.
The Gem Dwarf rose, raising her chin to see over the desk. “We’re not going to take this lying down, Warner. Don’t forget it.”
She whipped around and strode out of the office, Blair close on her heels. Val stepped to the desk and pressed her palms on the polished wood. Warner looked up, then leaned back despite himself.
“Nothing will happen to them or their company,” she growled. “Not on my watch. Give up while you still can.”
Warner didn’t look away, but the corner of his eye twitched. Val held his gaze until his hands shook, then left the room.
The hours dragged by. Genevieve was parked outside Anvil Brewery. Val eyed the street relentlessly for any sign of the gang, but the alley was quiet. Only delivery trucks passed, except for a guy on a bicycle, who rode slowly past Genevieve and admired the gleaming Mustang. He was unarmed.
“This is bullshit, Gennie,” Val muttered, checking her watch. It was after four in the afternoon. “A fight would keep me awake.”
Genevieve flipped her dials in agreement.
Val stifled a yawn and sipped the latest in a string of strong coffees Yuka brought from the office. Her phone buzzed with a text. Val opened it and smiled at the profile picture: a green-skinned troll with small, neat tusks protruding from her bottom lip stared fiercely into the camera through glasses. Qenzi.
Saw your missed call. Need to talk?
