I turned. A tan dark-haired man in his forties waved at me from a nearby table. Lago Vista. I walked over and took a seat. Curran sat next to me. Lago had been a mercenary all his life one way or another, but he’d joined the Guild about three years ago, when he moved to Atlanta from Lago Vista, Texas. He liked it when people called him Lago. It wasn’t really his name, but he never talked about the things he’d left behind, so I didn’t ask. He and I had worked together on a couple of jobs. He wasn’t as fast as he used to be, but he had a lot of experience and he knew what to do with it. He did his job, he did it well, and he didn’t get me or anybody else killed. That made him a decent merc in my book. If you needed a second for a gig, you could do a lot worse than Lago. If you could put up with his come-ons, that is. Lago was an aging jock. He liked one-night stands, and he viewed himself as a smooth operator.

“Haven’t seen you around.” Lago lifted a coffeepot. “Need some fuel?”

The coffee in the glass carafe was solid black and looked viscous. “Is that last night’s batch?”

Lago shrugged.

Last night’s batch that had probably baked for about twelve hours. No thanks. “Where is the Clerk?”

“You didn’t hear? The Clerk’s gone. The cleaning staff, too. All of the admins are gone. You’re looking good, Daniels. Looking really good.” Lago gave me a long once-over.

“Stop looking at her and you might live longer,” Curran said, his voice nice and friendly.

Lago glanced at Curran and held his arms up in the air. “Hey, no offense. Just a compliment.”

Curran didn’t answer. Lago shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, and turned to me. “Who’s the guy?”

“He’s my . . .” Fiancé, honey-bunny? “He’s mine.”

Lago nodded knowingly. “The thing with the Beast Lord didn’t turn out, huh? That’s okay, I heard that guy is a dick. You don’t need that shit.”

Curran’s face showed no emotion. Lago stuck his hand out. “Lago Vista. Call me Lago.”

“Lennart.” Curran reached over and shook Lago’s hand. I held my breath to see if Lago’s fingers would survive. He didn’t writhe in pain and no bones crunched. And that was exactly why Curran was such a scary bastard. When he lost control, it was because he made a deliberate choice to do so.

“So what happened to the admins?” Curran asked.

“The Guild Assembly failed to pass the budget. No budget, no paycheck. The cleaning crew was the first to walk off, then the cooking staff. The Clerk hung on for about six weeks, but he left, too.”

Holy crap. “Who’s taking the calls?”