After holding against her for a long moment, he withdrew slowly. Shaking, she collapsed on the bed. He stroked callused fingers along the curve of her spine.
“All right?” His voice sounded hoarse, as if he had been running for miles.
“Yes,” she gasped. What else could she say? No? How much fun would that be after he’d just treated her with such consideration?
She couldn’t admit that he had shaken her to the core and tossed her emotions head over heels. We both know what this is.
He rolled away to sit at the edge of the bed, and she pulled up the blankets and curled on her side to look at him. God, he was beautiful. They hadn’t even gotten his pants off. She rubbed his back as he pulled the condom off. His dark head angled as he looked down, and he froze.
She lifted her head. “What is it?”
“The condom broke.” His voice was expressionless.
She took in a deep breath, absorbing that. Then she sighed. “Don’t worry. I got tested after I left Austin. I’ll need a retest, but I think I’m good.”
He turned his head to one side as he listened. “I didn’t pick up anything when I scanned you for damage after the attack. I’m safe too. And you’re on the pill.”
“Yes.”
Reaching behind him, he captured her hand and pulled it around to press his lips to her fingers. Then he stood, gathered his clothes, and strode out. A few moments later, she heard the water running in the bathroom.
His absence was deflating, and she curled into a tighter ball. She felt inappropriately raw. What an inconvenient time to discover she might not be any good at casual sex.
But there was nothing casual about what happened. She might feel unsure about almost everything else in her life, but she felt certain about that. They hadn’t committed to anything, and they had been very clear they were going their separate ways, but this lovemaking hadn’t been casual.
He was fully clothed when he strode back in. Desire stabbed at her again, and this time it was stronger than ever. Now she knew what those sophisticated clothes covered.
His gaze burned as he looked at her, and a muscle flexed in his jaw. He said tonelessly, “I won’t be coming tomorrow. I’ve got too much to do, and I can’t develop predictable habits.”
Something dark pulsed in reaction. Disappointment? She sat up, holding the sheet up to her chest. “I understand.”
“Two of my colleagues will be delivering your new car tomorrow. They’ll park it at the end of the lane. I’ll have them leave a cooler with supper in it.”
“There’s more than enough food,” she said drily. “You brought two Cobb salads, and it looks as though you’re leaving—and how many sandwiches did you bring? I think there’s six now in the fridge.”
“This was unplanned.” The muscle flexed again. “Now it’s grown late, and I can’t stay.”
“Josiah, I wasn’t complaining,” she said in a gentle voice. Because we both know what this is. “I was simply pointing out there’s already more food here than I can eat.”
His expression clenched. He strode forward, clamped one hand at the back of her neck, and his mouth crashed down on hers. After a long, blistering kiss, he tore away.
“We’ll have your documents day after tomorrow,” he said and walked out.
God. She felt as if something inside tore away to follow him when he left. A moment later, the back door slammed. She touched her mouth with unsteady fingers. Her lips were shaking too.
She whispered to the empty house, “I’m leaving Wednesday.”
Sometime later, she roused herself enough to open the wine and pull out one of the salads. As she sat cross-legged on the bed and mechanically picked at the supper, flashbacks of the evening played through her mind.
His face, his hands. The sensation of his body moving over hers, in her. Her inner muscles were already sore. How he had stilled when he said, The condom broke.
Thank God she was not just on the pill. Because of the upheaval, she carried the container in her purse. She always took it first thing every morning without fail, except…
The salad went flying as she exploded off the bed and lunged for her purse. After digging frantically for the container, she opened it and checked three times for evidence of the answer she already knew in her heart.
She always took the pill first thing, except she hadn’t taken it yesterday morning after the attack. What were the chances that it would matter?
She wasn’t on the regular pill. Because of side effects, she took the mini pill—and the mini pill was the one you had to watch out for. But still, the chances had to be low. And she was almost forty, and she’d never been pregnant.
“It’s all going to be okay,” she whispered. “Because we know what this is.”
After a while, she stood and picked up her mug of wine. Even though she knew the science for how unlikely it was she might get pregnant—or even if she did, how safe it was to drink the wine before a fertilized egg implanted—she took it into the bathroom to pour it down the sink.
* * *
Josiah’s mood was savage as he drove back into Atlanta. Away from Molly. Away from what they had done together.
It never should have happened, yet he wanted to do it again and again, because apparently whenever he got near her every firm decision he’d ever made about his life flew out the window.
Once he reached the YMCA, he left the Camry down another neighborhood street, walked back to his Audi, and drove to the apartment. Then he flipped through the photos he had taken of Molly, selected a few, and forwarded them to Steven with the message: FedEx the documents to my attention at the office on Wednesday.
You got it, Steven responded.
After that he poured himself a scotch and checked coven email. Henry and Maria were delivering a Subaru Outback by midday on Tuesday. Henry and Steven’s research on the Seychelles file had led them to a Russian bank. Anson continued to monitor the city for flares of magic while he built a file on the governor of Georgia’s background. It would be, Josiah knew, as meticulously researched as every other file Anson had compiled.
Everything was proceeding smoothly. Nothing was on fire except for him.
After years of living with a dormant sex drive, it had come roaring back to life. He strode through the quiet apartment, half erect. The need to take her pounded in his temples. Even at half past two in the morning, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t drive back to the safe house to make love to her again before morning.
She had been so sexy, aroused, and yes, caring when they had made love. Worlds different from any other woman he had ever had. A universe different from his dutiful, treacherous wife.
And Molly had been so goddamn calm when he had told her he was leaving. She had torn his focus into tatters and watched with perfect composure as he had left. She was the most dangerous woman he had ever met, and she didn’t yet know a fraction of what she was truly capable of.
He threw himself onto the bed and stared dry-eyed at the darkened ceiling until his alarm went off. Then he hauled his ass through his morning routine and went to work. By midmorning people were beginning to avoid him, and he realized he needed to dial back some of the savagery.
He didn’t give a damn about the job. It was just a means to an end, but he shouldn’t abuse the people who worked for him. Not only did they not deserve that kind of treatment, but it wouldn’t get him reelected. So he reined it in.
Maria and Henry texted when they were about to drop off the Subaru, so he texted Molly. Your new car is about to be delivered at the end of the lane.
She responded almost instantly. Amazing. Thank you!
They’ll tuck the keys in the visor. Don’t approach until they’re gone. That way you can’t ID them.
I won’t get close.
He paused. He should put down his fucking phone and get back to fucking work. Instead, his fingers moved almost reluctantly over the keyboard. Everything good?
Everything’s fine, Josiah.
He gritted his teeth. His office was up to its eyeballs in cases that had turned red-hot. He could have Anson deliver the package of cash and documents. He didn’t technically need to see her again.
But a wave of rebellious anger rose up to quell that. Avoiding her would be taking the coward’s way out, and she deserved better than that.
Besides, he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to see her again. The fever running rampant in his blood wouldn’t allow it. As he sat at his desk, fighting an inward battle with himself, several emails came in at once.
One of them was the autopsy report for Sullivan. Another was the report on Rodriguez.
He clicked on the report for Sullivan and scanned it before sitting back in his chair. Then he texted Molly again. You didn’t kill Austin. Cause of death: smoke inhalation. The bruising on his body is attributed to the collapse of the ceiling over him.
Long moments passed with no reply. He imagined her reacting to the news in the solitude of the quiet country house. Just as he was about to call her, a text appeared. What about Nina?
Hold on. He opened that report and scanned it too. Same cause of death. There were no signs of struggle. The coroner stated it’s likely she died in her sleep. He thought of how upset Molly had been at the news of Rodriguez’s death, almost more upset than she had been about Austin. A sense of responsibility weighed heavily on her, so he added, She didn’t suffer any fear or pain.
Another long pause, then: Tough news, but I’m glad you told me. Thank you.
You’re welcome. He waited, but she didn’t text further, and he couldn’t think of how to maintain the connection, so he set his phone aside and got back to work.
Maria and Henry delivered the car just before noon. He alerted Molly, and fifteen minutes later she confirmed that she had driven the car back to the house.
A little after two in the afternoon, he received a memo stating the police had issued an APB for Molly, listing her as a person of interest in a murder investigation. Photos of her had been distributed to all the local television statements. She would be featured on the evening news.
So they had connected Nina Rodriguez to Molly and Austin Sullivan. That had only been a matter of time. He called the lead detective on the case for an update. Afterward, he texted Molly again. What size clothes do you wear?
This time it took her a few minutes to respond. Size eight, long in pants, 34B bra. I have about $60 in cash, and I still have money on some prepaid Visa cards. I thought I’d go to the country store to see if I could pick up some new clothes. Where is it?
Adrenaline kicked in. Goddamn it, she had keys and a vehicle at her disposal now. She could do anything. Go anywhere. She didn’t have to listen to what he said.
Rapidly, he sent back in all caps, DO NOT GO.
Silence stretched out long enough that he charged to his door to slam it shut, then he dialed her number. When she picked up, she sounded wary. “Hello?”
“You know it’s me,” he snapped.
“Of course,” she replied irritably. “But God forbid we actually talk on the phone anymore. You made it quite clear before that you’re very busy.”
“I am busy,” he growled. Striding to his window, he yanked at the confining tie at his neck. “But you didn’t respond to my latest text.”
“No, I didn’t.” Her voice turned cool. “I was still thinking about it. I don’t like somebody else dictating my actions. It was different when I was too hurt to go anywhere. The bruises on my face alone would have drawn attention, but I’m past that point now.”
“Or when you didn’t have a car and couldn’t?” he bit out.
“For Christ’s sake, it’s just the country store. It isn’t a bank branch with security cameras. What’s wrong, they don’t have clothes?”
“They have TVs,” he hissed. “And internet, and they can stream news channels. The police have just put out an APB on you. Your photo is going to be featured in the evening news tonight.”
He heard the breath go out of her. She said in a choked voice, “Well, that complicates things.”
“Yes, it does,” he snapped. Then he made an effort to corral his wayward temper and said more calmly, “Look, you’re not a suspect. The current theory is that Austin killed your lawyer and then died trying to set the fire in her office.”
“That’s ridiculous. Why would he do that? It wasn’t as if he could stop her from filing the divorce papers. She had already done that the Friday before.”
“I know, but I just talked with the lead detective. With her office records destroyed, I don’t think they’ve discovered that yet. Even still, it looks too pat. They aren’t convinced, but they don’t have anything else to go on right now. They want to see if you can shed any light on what might have happened, but the concern is that Austin did something to you and you’re dead too. You should be fine when you drive far enough away from the area, but you’re not there yet. So wash what you’ve got and stay fucking put. I’ll bring you a few outfits when I deliver the documents tomorrow.”
“Fine. Do you have to get back to work?” she asked abruptly.
He craned his neck from side to side to ease the tension in his shoulders and made himself relax. “No, I can take a few minutes,” he said. At least he no longer sounded like a crazy man. “What do you need? Are you all right?”
“I’m frustrated and going stir-crazy, and I feel a little stupid about insisting I go to the store, but I’m fine.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t know about the APB,” he replied. “It just went out, so I know what you said sounded reasonable from your point of view. But I don’t issue arbitrary orders, Molly. You need to trust me when I tell you to do something. Or not to do something, as it were.”
“Okay.” She sounded calmer too. “You’re right.”
He wanted to put his arms around her. Goddamn it. “I’m sorry for biting your head off. I’m on a rampage today. It’s not you.”
“What’s wrong?”
Aside from the fact that I’m losing my fucking mind over you?
He clenched his teeth and didn’t say it. “I didn’t sleep. Too many things running through my head.”
“Ah. Me too.”
Curiosity stirred. “Was there something you needed to say to me?”
“Yes,” she said carefully. “But we don’t have to talk about it right now.” Her measured tone said it wasn’t a lightweight subject.
“What is it?” Someone knocked on his door. “Hang on.” Holding the phone away, he raised his voice. “I’m on the phone! I’ll be with you in a few minutes.” Then he turned his attention back to Molly. “What were you saying?”
“Nothing,” she told him.
He frowned. “That’s not true. If it was nothing, you wouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Bad impulse,” she replied crisply. “What I have to say isn’t urgent, and you’ve got people waiting for you. Go back to work.”
“Fine, see you tomorrow.” He hesitated, reluctant to break the connection. “Don’t hesitate to call if something does turn urgent.”
“It won’t, Josiah,” she said gently. “Everything is fine here. Bye for now.”
He frowned as she disconnected. She was the polar opposite of a needy woman. He ought to be glad. Relieved, even. Instead, he felt like she kept shutting a door in his face—a door he should never walk through but also one he couldn’t seem to keep away from.
The knock sounded on his door again, and reluctantly he pocketed his phone and got back to work.
Around a quarter after three, he received Sherman’s email about lunch on Friday and responded to confirm. He had a feeling some of Sherman’s questions would get answered by the evening news. Still, the luncheon meeting should prove interesting. Sometimes people gave away things by what they didn’t say as much as what they did.
That evening he stayed even later than usual and left the office after seven.
When he approached his car, he scanned it. He’d been taking precautions for so long, they had become automatic.
This time he found something.
He stopped. In case his actions were caught on CCTV, he bent to tie his shoe, and under the guise of that he checked again. A glimmer of magic hovered around the license plate. It was too small and subtle to be a bomb, but he clicked his key fob from where he crouched, just in case. Nothing blew up.
Only then did he approach. Opening the trunk, he set his briefcase inside while he examined the glimmer of magic up close. It was a tracker.
Somebody had decided to keep an eye on his movements.
On the way home, he stopped at an ATM. Then he went to a big-box department store to buy a variety of different things—household cleaners, groceries, paper products, travel-sized toiletries, and a soft-sided carry-on bag.
He also strode through the women’s clothing section to grab a couple of outfits in Molly’s size along with some underwear, a sleep set with a short nightie, a pretty thigh-length robe and matching slippers, and a jean jacket and a baseball cap. He selected a checkout lane far away from any others, and as the cashier rang up his purchases, he checked his surroundings carefully. Nobody paid any attention.
As the cashier rang up the women’s clothes, he smiled. “Why don’t you go ahead and tuck those into the carry-on? I’m surprising my wife with a getaway weekend.”
“Lucky wife.” She returned his smile. “Sure thing.”
When all his purchases had been tallied, he paid with cash and whistled as he took his cart out to the car and loaded everything into the trunk. While he did, he conducted another sharp, detailed scan but didn’t find anything new.
Back at his place, he hauled everything, including the new go-bag, into the apartment. Once he had everything inside, he scanned the rooms, first magically, and then he swept for mechanical bugs. Nothing. Only then did he shrug out of his suit jacket and pour himself a scotch.
This changed everything. Goddamn it.
It was almost ten when he called Molly. He listened to the phone ringing. When she answered, she sounded sleepy. She sounded so fucking sexy, he hardened in an instant.
Huskily, he asked, “Did I wake you?”
“No,” she sighed. He heard something rustle, perhaps the sheets. “Well, almost. I wasn’t quite asleep. What’s going on?”
Suddenly so much rage flooded his body he wanted to punch a wall. “There’s been another development.”
“What is it?” she said sharply. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone put a tracker on my car.” As he spoke, he opened the blinds at the wall of windows in the living room. The view of the city was why he had picked this place. “I can’t come to you tomorrow.”
“What about the other car you drove? The Camry?”
“Here’s the thing, milaya.” He stopped.
It was only in that minute that he realized he had been intending to spend the night with her on Wednesday if she would have him again. Despite all common sense, he had been counting on being with her one more time before he let her go. Giving up that precious, rare opportunity caused a mental outcry that felt like physical pain.
“Josiah?”
He snapped back into focus. “The tracker could be good news. It means I’ve come to somebody’s attention, and they want to see what I’m up to. But I don’t know what triggered it. Maybe it’s something about my movements. Maybe somebody noticed I drive in a way that shakes loose anybody who might be trying to tail me. Maybe they found my car where I parked it at the Y. Maybe they know about the Camry.”
“What if you remove the tracker?”
“I don’t want to. We need to see if we can find who put it on my car. This is an opportunity we can’t ignore. But that means coming to you is out. We’re going to have to set up a meet in town. I’ve got a go-bag for you, and I withdrew a thousand dollars from an ATM tonight. Tomorrow morning I’ll take out another thousand on my way to work.”
“Two thousand in cash?”
“Yes. That won’t be enough, and it’s not what we agreed on, but it will get you out of town and far enough away that your photo won’t be in the news. I’ll figure out how to get you the rest. I’ll also be getting your new ID delivered sometime tomorrow.” He paused. “We need to set up a meet where you can drive straight in, pick up the package, and then leave right away. Somewhere public and easy for us both to get to but with enough space for privacy.”
“Grant Park,” she said.
“Where the zoo is? I haven’t been there yet.”
“Yes, and the Oakland Cemetery is close by. The park has over a hundred acres with plenty of places to meet, and it gets busy when the weather is nice—there are plenty of chances for anonymity. It’s also accessible from downtown.” She added, almost wistfully, “It’s quite beautiful in the summer.”
He thought it over. He could leave his car somewhere, catch several Ubers quickly in a row, meet her to deliver the package, and make his way back to his car. “That will work. Where do you want to meet inside the park?”
“I think one of the pavilions will do.” She described the area while he made a mental note.
He told her, “I’ll text you when to meet me. Do something to pin up your hair or pull it back. The photo they used on the news tonight was with your hair down. I bought you a baseball cap. It’s in your go-bag.”
She had looked beautiful in the photo as she laughed at someone off camera, but she looked beautiful in all the photos he had taken. He didn’t think she could take a bad shot.
He should delete them from his phone, but he hadn’t. And he knew he wouldn’t.
“Thank you.” The expression in her voice turned complex. “It feels like I’ve been treading water for so long, but I’m really leaving tomorrow.”
“Yes, you really are leaving,” he replied quietly. “I’ve got to go. Talk to you tomorrow.”
She hesitated, but then all she said was, “Good night. And thank you again for everything.”
“You’re welcome, Molly.”
Before she could say anything else, he disconnected.
She had quickly exploded into such a large presence in his life. He needed her gone to keep his head in a dangerous game. More than that, he wanted her gone, for her sake. But in privacy, he was forced to admit she would leave a big hole behind when she went.
He stood for some time looking out at the vibrant city lights and drinking. Feeling a host of unwelcome things… regret, frustration, loss… but feeling none of the elation he would have six months ago at reaching another milestone on the way to his ultimate goal.
When he finished his scotch, he went to email news of the latest development to his coven.