Jenna Black: Resistance

“It’s all right, Dante,” Esmeralda said. She was holding on to her composure by a thread, and a hint of unease had found its way into her voice. She was far too politically savvy to risk offending the Chairman Heir, but Nate knew it cost her to keep from telling him off. “I’m sure I’m not in need of protection.”

Dante didn’t respond, staying stubbornly between Esmeralda and Nate, doing a fine impression of an intimidating bruiser. Mentally crossing his fingers, Nate reached out and grabbed Dante’s collar, yanking him forward until he could growl in his face.

“You are being insubordinate,” he said as he shoved the little piece of paper under Dante’s collar. The servant’s livery had no convenient pockets Nate could slip the note into, but he hoped the neatly tucked-in shirt would keep the note in place until Dante had a chance to retrieve it.

They were practically nose to nose, so Nate could see by the slight widening of his eyes that Dante had felt the brush of the paper against his skin. Nate could only hope no one else had noticed.

Nate gave Dante a shove away from him. It didn’t exactly break his heart to give Dante a hard time—it had been Dante who had once inspired Nate to throw the first punch of his adult life—and the shove was just barely short of hard enough to knock Dante down. Face red with anger, jaws clenched, Dante fussed with his starched collar, trying to make it lie flat after Nate had rumpled it.

“That will be all, Dante,” Esmeralda said sharply.

Still plucking at his wrinkled shirt, Dante made a short bow and left with what Nate thought was exaggerated dignity.

Nateleaned against the hood of his car—the car he almost never got to drive, because the Chairman Heir was supposed to travel by limo and leave such plebeian pursuits as driving to the lower classes—trying not to check his watch every thirty seconds. He’d been quite clear in his terse note to Dante, and he was sure Dante had felt it slipping under his collar. Of course, just because the bastard got the message didn’t mean he would show up. He probably felt like Nate was ordering him around, demanding a meeting when he could have politely asked. Too bad Nate hadn’t thought of that before writing his little summons.

At 1:35, just as Nate was deciding it was time to give up, the door to the stairwell finally opened and Dante stepped out. Nate was used to seeing him in servant’s livery; the only time he’d seen him in anything else was when they’d rendezvoused with Kurt in the Basement, at which time Dante had been disguised as a Basement-dweller. Tonight, he was wearing battered blue jeans and a faded shirt, and for the first time he actually looked comfortable in his clothes. His muscular build had always looked odd for a house servant, and when he’d dressed for the Basement, he’d looked very much like a man in disguise. Nate had no idea what Dante’s background was, but the choice of clothes suggested that he was from a lower-class Employee family. He might have built up all those fancy muscles of his doing manual labor.

“You’re lucky I’m still here,” Nate said, though being antagonistic when he was about to ask for help probably wasn’t wise. He should have known Dante would be unruffled.

“And you’re lucky I’m here at all. That was quite a scene you caused. Thanks for almost costing me my job.”

No, Nate and Dante were never going to be the best of friends. Nate wasn’t about to apologize, not when he’d put time and consideration into how to get a message to Dante without costing him either one of his jobs.

“Maybe if I were a professional spy like you, I’d have been able to find another way to get you a message,” he said. “I figured you might not like it if I called you on the phone or showed up at the Lake Towers and asked to speak to you.”

“Very thoughtful of you. Now what is so urgent that you had to make a total ass of yourself to set up a meeting?”

How did Dante manage to pass as a servant in an Executive household when he had such an enormous chip on his shoulder? It had to take some serious acting skills to act subservient to a family of top Executives when he held Executives in such contempt. Nate wondered if he was being overly optimistic in hoping that Dante would be interested in helping Nadia. After all, she was a top Executive. Maybe he should be hoping to get help from Kurt instead. But he didn’t know how to contact Kurt, and he couldn’t afford to wait until Kurt contacted him again. If he wanted to help Nadia, Dante was his best chance.

“Nadia’s in danger,” Nate said, watching Dante’s face carefully for a reaction, which, naturally, Dante didn’t give him.

“Mosely’s dead. She’s been cleared of all charges. And as far as I know, she’s no threat to the resistance. So what’s the problem?”

Nate swallowed hard at the reminder that the resistance had been willing to kill Nadia to keep her from blowing Dante’s cover. These were dangerous people, and they weren’t exactly concerned with Nadia’s best interests. Dante seemed to like Nadia, but liking someone and being willing to stick your neck out to help them were two different things.

“I can’t tell you,” Nate said, because if he wasn’t going to trust Kurt with the full truth, then he sure as hell wasn’t going to trust Dante. “You’re just going to have to take my word for it. She’s in danger, and that bitch mother of hers has her locked up in a retreat where she’s cut off from the outside world and completely helpless.”

Dante blinked a couple of times and shook his head. “You want me to take your word for it? You’re not actually under the impression that I trust you, are you? Teaming up against a mutual enemy doesn’t make us friends.”

Nate laughed tightly. “When did I give you the impression I thought we were friends? If I weren’t worried you’d finger—” Nate stopped himself from using Kurt’s first name just in time. Even someone as casual as he was didn’t refer to servants by first name, and doing so would betray an inappropriate level of intimacy. Nate covered his almost-slip with a cough before continuing. “—Bishop during questioning, I’d have turned you in by now.”

It wasn’t actually true. Nate didn’t like Dante and didn’t trust his resistance, but there was no way in hell he would turn anyone he knew over for treason. Dirk Mosely might be dead, but Nate had no doubt that whomever the Chairman hired to replace him would be just as brutal and just as morally bankrupt. If Dante were arrested for treason, he’d be tortured until he gave up every resistance contact he knew, and then he’d be executed. Nate had enough black marks on his conscience already without adding one more.

“ This is how you’re planning to persuade me to help you?” Dante asked. “Your technique could use some work. But I suppose you’re used to ordering people to help you and this whole asking thing is a new experience.”

The remark bit a little deeper than Nate would have liked. “You’re right,” Nate said, and he could see that his words startled Dante. “I suck at asking for help. I don’t like you, and you don’t like me, and none of that matters. Nadia’s in trouble, and we both played a part in getting her there. I’m going to do everything in my power to help her, and I’m hoping you have enough of a conscience to want to help, too. If that’s too much to ask for, then just say so and get out of my face.”

Dante scowled and looked like he was seriously considering turning around and heading for the exit. Nate wondered if he should have been a little less honest and a little more … conciliatory. But it was too late to change his tone now, so he merely held his breath and waited.