It had been an indeterminant amount of time between when Rachel had donned the blindfold and the car entered the tunnel entrance. She was tired of waiting. She was about to ask how much longer when she felt the car slow. It was a different motion than the past few times the car had decelerated for the twists and turns, so she thought maybe, finally, they were there. As the car rolled to a stop, she asked eagerly, “Can I take the blindfold off now?”

Jackass’s answer was a clipped, “Yes.”

Oh, thank god! she thought and whipped the offending fabric off her face, hissing in pain as the knot pulled out several strands of hair.

She looked around. The first thing she noticed was the bright sunlight streaming through an archway on the other side of the underground parking lot. The second thing she spied was Adam. He stood across the car from her on a stone step which led up to a carved marble archway. His gaze met hers and he smiled, beckoning her closer. Eagerly, she left her car to join him and the others in the archway.

The archway opened to a courtyard of sorts. There were potted plants all around the perimeter and in nooks along each carved marble wall, an archway led out into what appeared to be hallways beyond. Below her feet, the floor was covered in an elaborate, tiled mosaic, and the ceiling was painted a vibrant gold color which helped reflect the sunlight which shown through several strategically placed skylights. It was as if she stood in a museum.

She closed her mouth with an audible snap.

A gruff, booming voice dragged her attention back to where Isaac and Adam were standing. “Haddad! Black! Fitzgerald! Good to see you,” the man bellowed. He had to weigh twice what Rachel did, and as she’d come to expect from all Order agents, he looked physically fit and ready to attack Org members in an instant. He had short brown hair, which shimmered with a slight red when he strode through the pools of sunlight. Upon reaching them, he tossed both beefy arms around Isaac and Adam’s shoulders, pulling them tight. “And this must be Alexander,” the man said, dragging Isaac and Adam along as he strode toward Zach. Rachel stifled her chuckle behind her hand. Their expressions were priceless at the indignity of it all!

“That’s enough Bartholomew. Let me go,” Adam said. His tone was gruff, but even she could hear the amusement he tried to hide behind the angry words.

Bartholomew stopped in his tracks, and released them, stepping back. “Now, see what you went and did, Black! You know I hate that name. Now I’ll never hear the end of it from them,” he added thumbing Rachel’s direction.

Well, there was something she could do about that, Rachel thought. Taking a step forward, she extended her hand to the big bear of a man. “Oh, I think he knows exactly what he did,” she said, hoping to lighten the situation. When he grabbed her palm and shook, she greeted, “I’m Rachel. It’s nice to meet you…” pausing for him to volunteer the name he wished to be called.

“Bart!” he supplied in the space she’d left open for him.

“Bart,” she finished, grinning.

“It is good to finally make your acquaintance,” Bart added, once again back to his boisterous self which made Rachel smile. His exuberance was refreshing. So much better than the taciturn silent appraisal she usually received.

Interrupting the introductions, Adam asked, “Did Antipolemarchos Valis leave you in charge of logistics again?”

Bart sighed and nodded. “Refused to leave you cars at the checkpoint even though we know you could find your way here. Made more work for me with all the comings and goings this week.” He spoke a little quieter, “I have your rooms all set up.”

“Standard guest wing?” Adam asked.

“No. Haddad you’re in the Stratigos’ wing B. Black, I had to set you, Fitzgerald, and the trainees up in the seldom-used Hashashin wing E. Mori,” he said, giving her a stack of keys. “you are with the other Lokhagos in Q, and everyone else is in agent wing L. We have several guests in attendance and are expecting more. I figured you’d want some privacy—seeing as to why you are here and all.” Bart winked at her.

She sighed. Did everyone have to know why she was here in Istanbul? “Why are there so many guests?” she asked, genuinely curious and eager to shift the conversation away from her and Adam’s supposed sex life.

“Well, Munro,” Bart addressed her, clearly ignoring her first name introduction. “Many are here or will be arriving soon for the Hashashin memorial ceremony.”—Rachel nodded in understanding at the reminder—“I regret to inform you, it is strictly a Hashashin family affair.” Rachel wondered if she could go anyway. She was practically family now, especially if Adam made good on his petition to date her. “Well Haddad,” Bart said. “you know the way. Did you have luggage? Do you need help?”

“No. I can manage,” Isaac replied, shifting his bag in his grip.

“Very well then. I’ll leave you to find your own room.” Bart handed him a key and turned back to Rachel’s significantly smaller group. “Shall I lead the way, or do you have it?” He asked Adam.

“I think I can find it,” Adam answered, smirking.

“Figured you might,” Bart said as he handed out the rest of the keys to each of them before smiling and saying good-bye.

Adam turned toward her and took her carryon from her grasp. He tossed it over his shoulder and led the way down the hall presumably toward the rooms where they would be staying. When she looked back to check if Simon was following, he was nowhere to be found.