Kinked by Thea Harrison

small city of Quonset huts as field hospitals, and aid continued to pour into the Elven demesne. The Elves faced a long, hard road to survival.
    Dragos had continued speaking. “As far as I know, Numenlaur continues to be abandoned. It has occurred to me that others may also have realized this, and may be interested in what they can find there. I want you two to go and assess the situation.”
    Quentin swiped at his face with the back of one fist as he glared out the window. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. He said, his voice low and savage, “If this is some kind of order to loot in disguise, I won’t participate.”
    In the glass of the windowpane, he watched Dragos’s blurred reflection turn to him. After a moment, Dragos said in a measured tone that spoke of self-control, “If I felt the desire to loot for Elven treasures, I would not send others to do it. I would go myself. What I want you to do is prevent others from looting. Check the land. Secure anything you might find dangerous. If anyone has trespassed, kick them out. From my understanding, Numenlaur has only one crossover passageway that leads to central Europe. Secure the entrance if necessary. If you haven’t killed each other by then, report back to me.”
    Of all the assignments Dragos could have picked, this was actually one that Quentin wanted to do. Marginally calmer, he asked, “Have you contacted Ferion about this?”
    “I haven’t bothered to,” Dragos said. A hint of bite had entered his voice. “Numenlaur does not belong to Ferion. Besides, he’s in over his head as it is.”
    Quentin couldn’t disagree. His cousin Ferion was a good man and would eventually make a fine High Lord, but too much had happened, and the losses and destruction were catastrophic.
    After a moment of silence, Dragos asked, “Any questions?”
    Quentin turned to face the others but kept silent. Aryal wore a scowl, but she said nothing either, only shook her head.
    Dragos said, “Kris has your plane tickets. You’re departing out of JFK, and your flight leaves soon. You’d better be on it.” He paused. “Close the door on your way out.”
    Quentin’s gaze clashed with Aryal’s. Her stormy gray eyes promised him anything but peace. So be it. He gave that promise right back to her in a thin-lipped smile.
    It might be harder to engineer a fatal accident in what had become a virtual ghost land, but it could still be done.
    And he was an expert at covering his own tracks.
    Let the war games begin.
    D ragos’s assistant Kris was waiting outside his office, plane tickets in hand. The young dark-haired male handed one envelope to Aryal and the other to Quentin. Aryal yanked out the contents of her envelope and scanned the pages. Her eyes rounded. “You booked
coach?”
    Kris shrugged. “Only seats available to Prague at short notice. Dragos said to book the first flight out, and that’s what you got. Meanwhile the corporate jet stays parked in the hanger. You guys must really be in the doghouse.” He looked at them sidelong. “Erm, just so you know, I’m supposed to verify that you both get on that flight. There’s a car waiting downstairs for you.”
    “Oh hell, no.” Aryal’s shoulders twitched as she gave Quentin one last glare. “Nobody said we had to ride to the airport together. I’ll meet you there.”
    Quentin watched her leave then looked back at Kris, who had settled at his computer again. “You ever take a vacation?” he asked the other male.
    Kris shrugged, eyes on his screen. “This is my vacation.”
    Quentin shook his head. Guess there was all kinds of crazy. He checked the contents of his envelope. Aside from documents he would need when he reached the Czech Republic, there was a printout of an electronic plane ticket. He noted the time of the flight and sighed. No wonder there was a car waiting downstairs. He had been so busy that day, sorting first through his sentinel duties and then seeing a healer and arranging