o f31e4a444fa175b2 (18 page)

My stomach rumbled insistently, distracting me from burgeoning Rage. “You planning to feed me anytime soon?”

He rolled his eyes. “I swear, you eat more than any
two
Hounds.”

I stuck my nose in the air and strolled toward the front door. “You’re just jealous of my wicked awesome metabolism and girlish good figure’ I tossed over my shoulder. The liquid heat in his eyes had me faltering a step. I covered my misstep by donning my new and improved busty disguise.

Scott rolled his .eyes and led me on a roundabout course to a far-off diner so we could enjoy a nice, grease-filled breakfast. After we finished cleaning our plates—thank the gods for wicked awesome metabolisms, or squeezing my ass into my red leathers would take much more than a wing and a prayer—

Scott handed me a fresh disposable cell phone and leaned back in the old-fashioned vinyl booth, a mysterious smile playing on his way-too-sexy lips.

“Here. I thought you’d like to check on your partner’s status.”

I blinked, cradling the phone and looking at him with widened eyes. He had kept close enough tabs on me not only to know about Trinity, but to know that I considered her my partner even though she wasn’t, officially. His eyes met mine unflinchingly, though their amber depths didn’t clue me in to what their owner was thinking. My fingers trembled slightly as I dialed Trinity’s cell phone number. I held my breath as the line rang once, twice, and then a third time.. . And then what I’d been praying for. “Hello?”

Her voice sounded more subdued than usual. I could tell she hadn’t been sleeping well, which meant she was still in the hospital.

I struggled to keep my voice light and easy. “Hey, wuss. You
still
in the hospital? It’s been what? Two days now?”

“Hey—bro. Good to hear from you finally. Mom’s been going crazy trying to get a hold of you.”

My fingers tightened on the phone. “Feds in the room?”

“Yeah, true that.”

Scott sensed the tension in my body and quirked an eyebrow, mouthing
Trouble?
I held the other hand up in a
Wait a minute
gesture.

“Are you okay, Trin?”

“The does got the bullet out, no problem, but I had a reaction to the pain meds. They kept me another night for observation, but I’m breaking out in a few hours.”

I let my body relax. “Thank the gods. Trin—I’m sorry. It’s my fault you got shot.”

“Now, bro, don’t go being stupid. Of course you don’t need to fly a thousand miles just to hold my hand. No, I don’t blame you at all.”

Tears pricked at my eyes. Her words meant more than I’d expected. Then again, she
was
the closest thing I had to a best friend these days—well, barring me finding Vanessa alive and raring to go out and paint the town red, white, and Flaming Blue. I cleared my throat, turning from Scott just enough to wipe the tears without him seeing. “Damn, I’m glad to hear you’re okay. That you’re getting out soon. Sitting still so long must have driven you insane.”

She laughed. “You think?”

Her slow, Southern drawl had me grinning. “I know. Okay. I’ll try and make this quick. I hooked up with old friends of mine and we’re working some solid leads. I’d tell you more, but someone could be listening in on your end. Just don’t worry about me, get yourself healed. I’ll call you again when I can.”

Scott jotted a number down on a napkin and slid it across to me. I nodded my thanks. “Oh wait, here’s a number where you can reach me if you need to.” I rattled it off, knowing that Trin’s excellent memory for numbers meant I wouldn’t have to repeat it.

“Okay, that makes sense. I’ll be good as new soon, so if there’s anything I can do to help you and the little wifey out, just let me know.”

“Will do.” Gods, I was beyond relieved she was now out of the line of fire. My enemies would not hesitate to take her out in, an effort to get to me—as they’d already demonstrated. Still, if I didn’t give her
something
to do, she might come up with something much more dangerous on her own. “Hey, maybe there
is
something you can do for me. I’d like you to keep an eye out when you get back to the PD. See if anyone. acts strangely, or seems more interested in me than they should be. Especially the asshole.” I didn’t have to specify which.

“Sounds good. And don’t worry, everything will be just fine.”

My voice sounded a little husky when I replied. “Thanks, Trin. Good-bye. And take care of yourself.”

“Bye, bro. Love you.”

Scott eased the phone out of my hands once I’d pressed End. He dropped it on the floor and smashed it to itty-bitty pieces. A few other diners gave him odd looks but remained silent. He smiled with feigned innocence and slid yet another disposable cell across the table. Hopefully the number I’d given to Trinity went along with
this
one and not the cell scattered all over the floor.

I rolled my eyes. “Dramatic, much?”

He winked. “Just playing it safe.”

My hands began fiddling with a paper napkin as I went over the conversation with Trinity. I wondered whether I should have told her more, but then decided the less she knew, the better. I’d always made a habit of telling her as little about the arcane world as she needed to know to help me get the job done. No sense making her a bigger target than absolutely necessary.

I forced my thoughts back on target and my gaze on Scott. “Gods, I am not looking forward to driving all over Western Mass. Wish Dre had coughed up the dough to get a bigger radius on his Vanessa-seeking GPS. You sure I can’t just fly solo to locate the secret base and then come back and get you?” My eyelashes batted with every ounce of innocence I could dredge up. Which, okay, wasn’t all that much.

Scott obviously agreed. He shot me a
You wish
look and otherwise ignored that suggestion. “We might not have to drive
all
over .Western Mass. Da has this old military friend, Red, who may be able to help us narrow things down. At the least, he knows a shitload about mortal intel and should be able to fill in some blanks for us. Da always raves about what a kick-ass soldier he was.”

“Just why would a
mortal
soldier be willing to give
arcanes
the 411 on military intel?”

“Because he still owes my dad for saving his ass during the War—several times.”

Ah, now tit for tat I could understand. Morgan had served in the mortal military during the Time of Troubles—okay, the War—and only converted to “our” side later, when he met and fell in love with Scott’s mother. “Red’s a little— quirky—these days, though. Made a lot of enemies over the years, and he’ll most likely want to meet us somewhere public.”

“That’s fine. Probably best to keep moving around, anyway.” Especially if the Murphys
did
have a leak to plug up somewhere. Less chance for him or her to figure out where our safe house was and arrange for another little ambush.

When our waitress stopped by to refill our coffees, Scott turned his sexy smile and roguish charm her way. “Hey, darlin’. Would you mind bringing a broom and dustpan? Had a bit of an accident with my phone.”

She crossed her arms under her chest and shifted slightly. The better to show off her—quite impressive

— girls. “Aw, now, that’s a shame. Hope it wasn’t one of those expensive buggers.”

They flirted for another minute or two, pointedly ignoring me, until she wandered off for the broom.

Scott threw down enough cash to cover the check and a good chunk of the woman’s rent besides.

Scott noticed my sardonic expression and cupped a hand along my back, guiding me toward the door.

“The better tip you leave, the less helpful the wait staff will be should nasty thugs show up asking questions about you.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s all that was back there.”

“Riss, if we’re going to work together, you’ve really got to get over that.”

We made it outside and started toward the nearest T stop. “Over what?”

“The jealousy thing.”

My back stiffened and I tinged my voice with frost. “Excuse me?”

“Yes, the jealousy. That Fury fire inside you made me fall crazy in love with you, but it also pushed me away whenever the whole jealous-shrew routine kicked in.”

I didn’t know whether to cuss him out for the “jealous shrew” comment or to marvel over the fact that
he’d finally
said he loved me—past tense. That made it easier to avoid fawning and focus on cussing.

“And how the hell would I ever have guessed you loved me? It’s not like you ever said it.”

His eyes narrowed. “What the hell? When we were together, I told you how I felt with my every touch, my every move, my every breath. Was I not speaking loudly enough?”

My heart melted ever so slightly. Gods, the man really
did
have a way with words sometimes. But that thought reminded me of the three little words he’d never quite managed to say. The only words that could unfreeze my heart completely, no matter how many other pretty ones he strung together. “That’s just it, Scott. You’ve never spoken it out loud at all. Not to me.”

“You must be tripping, Riss. When we were together I told you I loved you a hundred times. Maybe a thousand.”

I nearly weakened at the vulnerability leeching through his voice. But keeping things bottled up until I exploded hadn’t worked too well for me in any of the relationships I’d been in. Including this one.

“You may have thought it a hundred times, felt it a thousand, but you never said it.”

He shoved both hands in his pockets. A signal of frustration. With me or himself? I couldn’t tell.

“I—well, shit. Could have sworn I. . .“ His words trailed away and he shook his head, shaggy hair flapping much like his Hound’s ears would have. “I never meant to hurt you, Riss. And I sure as hell didn’t mean for you to think I didn’t love you.”

My heartbeat picked up speed, fluttering so quickly I thought it might burst right out of my chest. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying??” I held my breath.

“Yes, Riss, dammit. I
loved
you.” He stalked forward and slammed my body against his. ‘Was that loud enough for you? I loved you, you reckless, relentless bitch.”

I sighed, closing my eyes and leaning against his chest, listening to his pulse race as quickly as my own. And felt the last few icicles crusting my heart crackle and then explode into a million tiny pieces.

Maybe, if he really
had
loved me once, we
could
have a chance in hell when this madness was all over...

“OH, GODS, SOMEBODY PUT ME
OUT
OF MY
misery.”

Scott bobbed his head to the beat of the twang-filled music, hair swishing with each motion. His hand tapped the booth behind my head, and a smile played about his lips when he spotted the sour look on my face. “What’s wrong, Riss? Don’t like the club?”

“Club?” I gestured to the animal heads on the walls and the denim-clad two-steppers on the dance floor. “This place hardly qualifies as a club.” Even if it
was
located on the top floor of a brand-new building that housed multithemed clubs owned by the same person. Apparently the owner loved country more than rock, hip hop, top forty, alternative, or the metal death we could have been moshing to on another floor. Noooo, we got stuck with Morgan’s military friend who was apparently as musically challenged as the owner of this building was.

His eyes glinted in the neon light washing over the room. “Just because you don’t care for the music doesn’t mean it’s not a club.”

“I absolutely hate country music, and you damned well know that. Why are we—”

“Now that’s a crying shame, darlin’,” an unfamiliar voice drawled behind me. “A pretty little thing like you hating God’s own music?”

My head whirled and a bear of a man grinned down at me. His solid girth was encased in snug denim on bottom and black cotton on top. A silver steer’s head gleamed from his belt buckle, and snakeskin boots and a battered cowboy hat capped off the ensemble. Good lord. Did every person in the joint except Scott and me shop at Rednecks “R” Us?

I turned my back in a pointed brush-off, but Grizzly Adams didn’t get the message. His hand touched my shoulder. I stiffened.
Calm down, Riss. He’s a mundane. Keep it under control.

“Mind getting your hand off me, buddy?”

The jerk actually guffawed, slapping a beefy hand against his blue jeans. “Feisty little filly you’ve got here, Scott.”

Feisty? Filly?
Was this joker for real? His last word registered and my heart sank. He’d used Scott’s name, which meant he was the guy we’d come to see. I shot my companion a dirty glare.
This
was the ex-military friend of Scott’s father who was supposed to lend us his ear and whatever intelligence he could?

Ha. This clown probably couldn’t even spell the word.

“Hey there, Red.” Scott motioned to. the seat across from us. “Want a beer?”

The nickname seemed ironic, considering his pasty white skin and muddy brown hair. He plopped down on the other booth, setting the whole thing shaking and the vinyl squeaking. “Now, son, when have you ever known me to turn down a beer?”

The men exchanged chuckles, and Scott flagged a server down. I sized up the man across from us while we waited, trying to pick out the uber-soldier Morgan had praised to Scott in the overly large, overly loud wannabe cowboy twirling a glass ashtray at the end of a gnarled finger. I just didn’t see it. He was too brash, too obnoxious, too. . . He flipped the fortunately empty object into the air, twisted in his seat, and caught it behind his back without looking or even moving very much. His eyes followed my own as they tracked the ashtray’s movement, then met his gaze. He winked, and then I knew. The Grizzly Adams routine was just that. An act.

And a damned good one.

The server dropped off Red’s beer and scurried away before he could pinch her ass. If I hadn’t seen the wink just now, I might have punched him on her behalf.

“Don’t overdo it,” I muttered.

He chuckled again, then dropped the good-ol’-boy persona and turned alert eyes on the two of us.