Free Romani Armada by Tracy Cooper-Posey Page A

again.
    “Cáel isn’t the only one pulling crazy workloads, is he?” Ryan asked softly. “You’ve been covering for me, and trying to rebuild an entire station at the same time. Have you had any rest at all?”
    “Who needs rest?” she asked. “I’ve made sure I’ve fed on schedule and I haven’t jumped back into the past more than Christian has recommended. I’ve been careful, Ryan. Other than that, hard work is exactly what I want right now.”
    Because the busier she is, the less she’ll think about Cáel…and me, Ryan added for himself. It was the unspoken other half of her sentence.
    He nodded, politely agreeing with Nayara, as they moved into the administrative area of the branch. “So, what sort of location do you need for the conference?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject.
    * * * * *
    Norstedthuset, Stockholm, Sweden, 2264 A.D.: Nayara placed a tall glass with a graceful handle in front of Deonne. “Here, with my thanks. You earned your salary today, Deonne.”
    “Hear, hear,” Ryan murmured, putting his feet up on the low coffee table.
    “Well, thank you, but what is this?” Deonne asked, indicating the glass. There was thick, dark brown liquid for three-quarters of the glass. “Is that actual cream on the top?”
    “Yes. It’s coffee. Swedish-style coffee, with real cream on the top. Enjoy.”
    “I would have thought a glass of champagne would be more appropriate, under the circumstances,” Rob judged, pulling Tally in against his side on the sofa next to Ryan.
    Nayara shook her head. “Deonne has been back in this time for thirteen hours and we’ve worked her like a mechanical steam engine since she arrived. She needs stimulants, not a depressant like alcohol. I’m hoping one of you multi-billionaires will take her out to dinner when we’re done here. I don’t think she’s eaten since she got here, either.”
    Deonne shook her head. “I had some of the gravlax they were serving before the conference.”
    “Pickled salmon shaved thin enough to see through does not constitute a meal,” Christian said. “You’ll kill your metabolism if you don’t eat regularly. I don’t have to give you the same lecture I gave Cáel Stelios, do I?”
    Deonne looked at him. “I thought Fahmido was the doctor? Weren’t you in communications?”
    “I’ve been a doctor more than once or twice, too. Fahmido is a medical research specialist. She stands in as a doctor of sorts.” Christian glanced at Ryan. “That’s a gap that needs filling, too.”
    “Are you volunteering, Christian?” Ryan asked, his tone mellow and his expression placid.
    Christian shook his head. “I’m a human specialist. I couldn’t begin to treat vampires – not with all the physical and mental challenges we’re facing these days.”
    “And now you understand my long term staffing dilemma over that gap,” Nayara told him, with a smile. “There is no specialist for what we’re facing these days. We seem to be forging new frontiers as we move along. Fahmido is as good as we’ve got for right now.”
    “You need a clinician, not a researcher. A cutting-edge therapist, one that really knows their stuff and knows how to extrapolate methodologies could work with Fahmido to formulate theories and apply them as practical treatments,” Christian told her.
    “Find me that physician and I’ll give you your annual salary as a bonus,” Nayara said.
    Christian looked startled, then thoughtful.
    Ryan chuckled. “Never complain if you don’t want to be part of the solution.”
    The door to the green room swung wide open as Brenden strode in. Brenden tended to look like he was striding everywhere, but it was just that his legs were so long his normal walking pace made it look like he was rushing.
    Justin slipped into the room right behind the giant Spartan. His gaze flickered across the people ranged there. He moved through the pale wooden furniture arranged around the faux-spruce coffee table and sat on the