After she said that, exhaustion slammed home. Her mind ground to a halt and blackness hovered near. Even though she fought to stay upright, she couldn’t and sank down on the bed.
Josiah took note. Standing, he tucked one arm underneath her legs and lifted her up while he yanked the covers down. Then he let her back down and pulled the covers over her supine body. He sat beside her again, bracing one hand beside her head as he leaned over and looked into her gaze.
“I can’t stay,” he told her. “I have too much to do. In the open area, there’s a microwave on a cabinet. If you get hungry, there are cans of soup and packets of popcorn in the cabinet, along with some instant coffee, bowls, and mugs. It’s pretty basic, but it will have to do until I return.”
“I don’t care.” The thought of trying to eat something made her feel queasy.
The mattress bowed under his weight, shifting her against his hip. Light from the bedside lamp gleamed in his dark hair, along the tanned skin of one lean cheek, and sparked in amber eyes.
He had a knowledgeable gaze, like a man who had seen too much of the world and had not thought highly of it. Something rough had weathered him. She wondered if she would ever learn what it was. Yet despite that, he had probably saved her life tonight.
For the second time, she touched him voluntarily, resting the fingers of one hand on his hard, muscled forearm. His skin was warm and sprinkled with dark hair. He looked down at her hand and took in a quiet breath as if he might say something.
Her eyelids drifted closed as she waited for him to say what was on his mind.
The bedsprings creaked as he eased away. She hurt too much to lay flat on her back, so she curled on one side.
He must have thought she had fallen asleep, and she very nearly had. She watched him through her eyelashes as he began to walk out, but then he paused, his head angled to one side. She followed the direction of his gaze. For the first time she realized her purse sat on the floor, her phone and keys thrown on top of it.
Bending, he took her phone and pocketed it. Then he continued out the door.
He took her phone.
A cold knot settled in the pit of her stomach, but it was a problem that had to get in line, because meeting the imperative demands of her abused body had to come first. Closing her eyes for real, she let the darkness take her.
* * *
He’d fucked up. Molly was a distraction, and now he was going to pay for it.
Grimly, he stepped into the tech room to check his email and scan the security monitors. Everything looked quiet and normal. The protection spells that surrounded the basement felt solid, unbreached. Maybe they would block anyone who might try to trace her whereabouts by using the GPS on her phone.
But maybe wasn’t something he relied on, ever. Checking Molly’s phone, he found that she hadn’t bothered to lock it with a password. He wasn’t surprised. Most people didn’t.
That meant her texts, phone calls, contacts, and settings were easily accessible. She had the location settings turned off, but that wouldn’t disable the phone’s GPS.
Quickly he exported her contacts to his email address. After the transfer had completed, he took out the phone card, dropped it on the floor, and crushed it under his heel.
Then he sat to compose an email to his coven.
“The integrity of the safe house here has been compromised. Do not approach. Seek other options if necessary.”
If someone searched Molly’s phone records, they would find several calls connecting to his number, but that didn’t concern him. The number was registered to a local laundry service, and he had another phone specifically for the DA’s use.
His main concern was how likely it was that someone might have tried to find Molly over the past several hours. For decades he had felt like he was playing chess with the unknown. This was another move on the board.
If Sullivan had left the scene on his own, he might not have had a chance to confess to Russell Sherman or to anyone else that he had failed to take care of the Molly problem. But if he’d had help—if he was dead—then interest in Molly would have spiked.
So it was possible.
His computer pinged. He had a response from Steven, who was a night owl. He clicked on the email, which said: “What’s up? Need help?”
He replied rapidly. “Unclear. I brought subject back to the safe house. I didn’t consider her phone’s GPS until too late. Would the protection spells block traces?” When he finished composing, he hit Send.
His email pinged again. Steven had written: “Let me think. I’ll get back to you in a sec.”
He sat back, arms crossed, and waited while he watched the screens. In the far corner of the property, a possum trundled past the security camera.
Another email came through. He clicked Open. Steven had written: “You should be good while you’re in the basement. But you’d be vulnerable before and after. My best advice—destroy the phone card ASAP.”
“Already done,” he typed. And he hadn’t wasted any time when he had brought Molly here. He thought of the speed with which he had gotten her under cover and relaxed slightly. “Thanks and have a good night.”
The risk was minimal enough that it wasn’t worth moving her again. She was as safe as he could make her tonight.
He pushed to his feet and locked the door of the room as he stepped out. When he checked the bedroom, Molly lay still and quiet. It was time to head back into the city.
He paused just before climbing into the car and looked at the quiet country scene. Moonlight illuminated the back of the dark house. It was a creepy, isolated setting, and he didn’t like leaving her like this, but that was no reason to stay. She was hidden, and she had all her essential needs met. She wasn’t going to die.
She messed with his head too much.
Swearing under his breath, he drove away. First item on the agenda was to drive through the neighborhood of her rental. He did so with disciplined patience, all his senses wide open. It was close to three in the morning, and there were a few houses still lit where people were active, but most were dark and peaceful. The last thing he did was park the car and walk over a few blocks to the rental itself.
Everything looked as it had when he had last seen it. The Jeep still sat where Molly had parked it. He scanned the vehicle for magic but didn’t find anything. He eased up the stairs to the rental to test the door. It was locked, the interior dark and silent. The location appeared to be secure.
Maybe Sullivan’s attack on Molly was all of it, at least for the time being. Finally satisfied, he drove to the apartment. As he pulled into his parking space, his phone rang. It was Anson.
Instantly, tension came roaring back. Throwing the Audi in park, he answered. “Anson.”
“You took her to the safe house, didn’t you? That’s why the location is compromised.”
“Yes.”
Anson’s sigh was audible over their connection. He said somberly, “It’s probably just as well.”
He had expected friction from Anson, especially after their earlier text conversation, but that surprised him. He narrowed his eyes. “Something happen?”
“There’s another fire. This time it’s a house near the university. One body has been discovered, a female. There’s no official ID on her yet, but tax records list a woman named Nina Rodriguez as the property owner. I’ve been doing some searching. Apparently she’s a divorce attorney.”
Josiah’s thoughts winged back to the conversation he’d had with Molly in the park. She’d said, Nina Rodriguez is my lawyer. Ever heard of her? He swore.
Anson asked, “Do you know who she is?”
“Unless there’s another divorce lawyer in the area named Nina Rodriguez, she’s Molly’s attorney.”
“So the two incidents are connected,” Anson said heavily.
“Looks like it.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Text me the address, will you?”
“Sure. Are you going to check out the site?”
“You bet your ass I am.” He started the car again.
The district attorney’s office in Fulton County had a hundred assistant district attorneys statewide and close to a hundred and fifty other staff that included administrative personnel and investigators.
It might be quirky for the DA himself to show up at a house fire in the early hours of the morning on a weekend, but it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. Besides, it might be useful for him to develop a reputation for being a quirky, hands-on kind of guy, and two suspicious fires in one night warranted some attention.
Once he received the address, he plugged it into his GPS, and twenty minutes later, he parked half a block away from a house fire that turned the night sky red. Despite the odd hour, the scene had drawn several onlookers who clustered across the street, clad in pajamas, bath robes, and other random, casual outfits.
Patrol cars, fire trucks, and an ambulance were parked nearby, along with a black van with white lettering that identified it as a medical examiner’s vehicle. All standard operating procedure. He scanned the area for any present or residual magic but didn’t sense anything.
His phone buzzed, but he ignored it as he breached a simple police barrier constructed with tape run between two parked squad cars. When a uniformed policeman strode over to turn him back, he introduced himself and showed his ID.
Within a short amount of time, he had located the fire chief on site and introduced himself again. Together they stood watching the firefighters work. “It always saddens me when a house goes down, and this one was a beauty.” The chief gave him a sidelong look. “Kinda late for most people to be out and about.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Josiah said. “When I heard there’ve been two fires in one night, I thought I’d drive over and take a look.”
“You don’t know? There’s three now.” The chief was a fit man in his fifties with short gray hair, sharp eyes, and a hangdog expression. “You must have been on your way here. I got word less than ten minutes ago that a law office in a strip mall was firebombed.”
Josiah held himself still. “Where?”
“Over in Piedmont Heights. Still no word on if there are any casualties, but it’s three fucking thirty on a Sunday morning, so we can hope not.” The chief gave him a sympathetic look. “You’ve only been at your new job for a few months, and the city’s going up in flames tonight.”
“Yeah, it’s going to be a busy week.” His phone buzzed again. Pulling it out, he glanced at several texts from Anson and took in the phrase: Office of Nina Rodriguez Atty at Law has been firebombed.
Gently he tucked the phone back in his pocket. “Do we know what caused this fire?”
The chief shook his head. “We won’t get a good look inside until everything has had a chance to cool down.”
“Give me your best guess.”
“Unofficially?” The other man snorted. “Your ordinary, garden-variety house fire doesn’t burn in such a thorough, even pattern as this one has. When we got here, it was engulfed from end to end. I’d say somebody really wanted this house destroyed.”
“That would be my take too, but I wanted to get your thoughts. How soon can we get an arson investigator in there?”
“Tomorrow’s Monday. The house should be cool enough to get someone in first thing.”
He handed the chief one of his cards. “Keep me updated.”
“You bet.” The chief pocketed his card. “And congrats on winning the election.”
“Thanks.”
He spent ten more minutes at the scene, introducing himself to the other responders on site and taking a quick look at the victim in the body bag awaiting transport in the medical examiner’s van. The woman was burned badly, but her features were still recognizable. Tightening his jaw at the scent, he snapped a few photos, then exited to inhale a deep lungful of the fresh air outside.
His phone buzzed again.
Anson: Responders just pulled a body out of the law office. An unidentified male, Caucasian, tall, dark hair, midthirties to fifty. I’m at the scene now.
Reeaally. He asked, Any magic involved?
I don’t think so, but I can’t get close enough to tell for sure. If you’re at the house, you’re less than ten minutes away. Anson sent him the address.
Josiah replied, On my way.
The sky had started to lighten with predawn when he arrived at the strip mall. This time there were far fewer gawkers, just a few cars pulled to the opposite side of the road. He caught a glimpse of Anson’s rugged profile in one of the cars, but he didn’t greet him or acknowledge his presence.
There was no sign of magic here either, and the fire had been smaller. It was already out but still smoldering. He went through the same round of introductions as he had at the previous scene, spending a few minutes talking with each professional before handing over his card.
This scene didn’t have an ME van, so he climbed into the ambulance to get a look at the unidentified male. He uncovered the head and gazed down at Austin Sullivan’s handsome, still features.
By that point he wasn’t surprised, but for the benefit of the EMT and a uniformed policeman looking on, he said, “Well, damn. I know this man.”
“You do?” The uniform pulled out a notepad. “Who is it?”
“Another lawyer. Austin Sullivan. He was a partner at Sherman & Associates. I went to a dinner party at his house last month.” He let the sheet fall back over Sullivan’s lifeless face and asked the EMT, “Any idea about the cause of death?”
“You need an autopsy to be sure, but the back of his mouth looks reddened like he might have suffered some airway burns,” the EMT told him. “He’s pretty banged up, but they found him under some rubble in a collapsed doorway, so that might explain it. It’s possible he got knocked out and smoke inhalation killed him, but what he was doing in there in the middle of a Saturday night is anybody’s guess.”
Josiah thought he had a pretty good idea what had happened to Sullivan, but he kept to his role. “What a mess. I’ll be reading the reports on this personally.”
With that, he took his leave. The space where Anson had been parked was empty, so he texted the other man the news, then added, I think we’ve learned everything we can for the night. Looks like we’re going to have a long week. You should get some rest.
You too, if you can.
But Josiah had no intention of resting. Instead, he stopped at a twenty-four-hour grocery store to pick up various items—ready-made deli sandwiches, fruit, cheese, milk, peanut butter, bread, more coffee. A quart of milk. He was in and out in twenty minutes.
Still, it was well past dawn by the time he finally started back to the safe house.
With a little luck, the rest of Molly’s night had been much more uneventful than his had been, and hopefully she would continue to sleep for several more hours. Her body needed to rest in order to recover, and he was feeling the effects of a tense, sleepless night.
And in any case, he wasn’t looking forward to breaking the news to her that she was now a widow.
* * *
Formless black.
Then the woman with the dark, powerful eyes stood in front of her, one eyebrow raised. “Taking your own sweet time, I see.”
“I’ve had a lot to do,” Molly told her. “It’s complicated.”
The woman snorted. “It’s always complicated. Well, I’m too busy to look for you. Either you’ll show up or you won’t. But you should know time is running out.”
Why was time running out? She wanted to ask, but the formless black swept her away again until Austin’s familiar shoes and long, lean, jeans-clad legs came into view.
And she moved as fast as she could, but she wasn’t fast enough. Something hard came down on her head…
Surging awake to total blackness, she jerked to a sitting position. Bruises and contusions screamed in reaction, and a sharp headache spiked behind one eye. Disoriented and panicked, she flung out a hand to grab something to anchor herself. The back of her hand knocked into a cool, hard surface, and a heavy object crashed to the floor.
The air was cold and strange. Memory surged in. She was in the basement of a safe house. At least that was where Josiah had said she was. And she had just knocked the bedside lamp to the floor.
After the first gigantic throb of protest, her body settled into playing a symphony of pain. Maybe enough time had passed that she could take more pain medication. She slid out of bed and grunted at the effort of bending over to grope for the lamp. Her fingers collided with the round, broad base. Picking up the lamp, she felt her way to the switch.
Light blazed, causing more stabbing pain behind her eye. Her body shrieked that it needed to be horizontal again, but she forced herself to move. Screw it, she thought. I’m taking more ibuprofen whether it’s time or not.
After dragging on the sweatpants and thick athletic socks, she limped to the bathroom, shook out more pills, and swallowed them down. Then she drank three more glasses of water until her nagging thirst had eased. Only then did she push her way out of the bathroom to take stock.
Gray light filtered down the basement stairs. Dawn must not be that far away. Like the T-shirt, the sweatpants and socks were too large. She hiked the pants up at the waist and took care not to stumble in the socks.
It was creepy as hell that he’d stuck her in a basement in the middle of the country. Drawing in slow, deep breaths, she counted until the racing panic eased enough for her to think.
The raw, empty place deep at her core was gone, and what had returned… Well, it wasn’t the golden well of Power from before, but it wasn’t nothing either. More than that, her senses had cleared, and she felt surrounded by a steady glow of magic.
It was everywhere. At her feet, overhead, on all sides. Josiah had said the basement had protection spells. Why the basement? Why not upstairs too?
The furnace kicked on, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Coughing out an unamused laugh, she searched for more light switches until she stood in the middle of the unfinished section that blazed with illumination. There was the open door leading to the bedroom, the bathroom, the microwave sitting on an old cabinet, a minifridge, a washer and dryer, a furnace, water heater—and a closed door with a high-end electronic lock.
She frowned at the locked door. Then, leaning heavily on the railing, she climbed the stairs to a narrow landing and looked out the window at the back door. A large, unkempt lawn led to a tangle of trees. Three more stairs took her to a large kitchen that was badly in need of being updated.
She stared around. It was a really empty kitchen. There was no stove, fridge, or microwave. She opened a couple of cupboards at random. They were all bare.
Moving her stiff, protesting body as fast as she could, she inspected the upstairs. Aside from two chairs and a television on a simple stand in the living room, along with a few lamps on timers, the rest of the large house was as empty as the kitchen. The television wasn’t even plugged in.
When she had finished, she sat thoughtfully in one of the armchairs and looked out the large picture window. This was the only house, and it sat at the end of a country lane. It would be easy to defend. Easy to isolate. Nobody would hear screams coming from this place. The thought made her shudder.
Still, she wasn’t barred from leaving. She could put on her shoes and walk down that country lane if she wanted. While it had been terrifying to watch Josiah pocket her phone, he hadn’t tried to imprison her in any way.
She tapped a thumbnail against her teeth. In fact, there were only two things he had barred her from doing. She couldn’t make any phone calls, and there were any number of reasons he might have wanted to keep her from calling out. Some were more sinister than others.
And she couldn’t open that locked basement door.
Or could she?
Pushing out of the chair, she went back into the basement, and the warm, steady glow of spells surrounded her again. Okay, she was still rattled, but she had to admit the magic felt good.
A deep shakiness had set in, and the hollow ache in her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since early Saturday. Impatiently, she attended to her body’s needs and nuked water in the microwave to make a mug of double-strength instant coffee while she ate soup straight from the can.
The cold soup felt slimy in her mouth, but it stopped her stomach from complaining. She glowered at the locked door as she drank the coffee. The medication had done its job, and her pain had eased to a bearable ache. While she didn’t exactly get a burst of energy from the caffeine, at least she no longer felt like she was going to fall over.
Most importantly, she could feel a small trickle of returning Power. Would it be enough?
Setting aside the half-empty mug of coffee, she went to the door to lay a hand on the electronic lock. Even if she had enough juice, should she do this?
Whether or not she was successful, this was going to make Josiah angry. And while he had manipulated and offended her, he had also helped her tremendously. She thought back to Monday’s kiss and discovered the memory had changed.
This time she remembered how he had held very still as she had gently, tentatively moved her lips under his, and then he had shifted to deepen the kiss. She had been the one to push him away.
He had tightened his arms, not to overpower her but in protest before he let her go. And of all the ways he could have chosen to get her riled…
Her mouth widened in a wry smile. As tactless and manipulative as it had been, he had meant that kiss.
But he had still taken her phone, and whether it made him angry or not, she wanted it back. And she wasn’t going to break through that door easily. Digging deep, she wrenched out as much Power as she could and used it to blast the door open.