by Alisa Woods
By the time she was stowed in the back, Riley was already in the front seat. The man who cuffed her climbed in, and five seconds later, they were pulling out of the alley and cruising down a Chicago street, heading out of the crime-ridden area she’d entered so determined to find justice for her father, just an hour ago. A tense minute passed while no one said anything. Ever’s mind was drawing a complete blank. Where the hell were they going? It wasn’t until they pulled onto the expressway that she finally realized—they were heading downtown. But she couldn’t imagine what that meant. All she knew was that she was alive. For now.
“You need to tell her,” the driver finally said. “Before we get there, Zane.”
Zane? “I thought your name was Riley.” The truth was nibbling at the edge of Ever’s mind, just waiting to get in.
“Oh, fuck me,” the driver muttered. “You know I’ve got your back,” he said to Riley, er, Zane. “But whatever mess you’ve conjured here, you need to fix it. Now.”
Zane let out a long sigh and barely glanced at her. “We’re from the Magickal Crimes Division. Arrow is my partner. We’re taking you in.”
Magickal Crimes Division. Partner. Cuffs. The fog lifted, but she was still stunned. “Since when does the FBI employ incubi?”
Arrow threw her an incredulous look then whipped his head back to watch traffic. “We are so dead.”
“I have an explanation.” But Zane’s voice was tight.
“You fucking better.” Arrow shook his head. “Sweet magick, a whole fleet of Justice Department lawyers are going to crawl up our asses. And the Strange family, Zane? Really?”
He just shrugged and looked out the window.
But Ever wasn’t angry. She was relieved. And shaky as hell. The leftover adrenaline made her feel more alive than any cliff jump ever had, and she still had a touch of that weird leftover eroticism from the nightmare, the one the incubus—Zane—had induced.
But angry? No.
It was like the world had started spinning on its axis once again.
Because the FBI had just plucked her out of trouble with a notorious gangster and had her in handcuffs in the back of their car… and they were taking her in. She would finally get someone to take the case of her father’s murder seriously. To help her track down who killed him. The FBI was already in deep with the drug cartel—Zane had been undercover with them! They had to know more. And they would help her clear her father’s name.
Or the FBI would have one hell of a bad morning.
She would make sure of it.
Chapter Three
It was better when her cuffs were on.
Then Zane didn’t have to feel the crackle of Ever’s powerful magick practically licking at his skin, constantly calling to him. But Arrow had insisted the cuffs had to come off—his partner was doing everything he could to smooth over the fact that he’d personally engaged in magick combat in an alley with one of Chicago’s most wealthy and powerful witches.
But he didn’t know what Zane had already done.
His magick was illegal. Using his powers as incubi was strictly limited—he had a license to act as an enforcer for Pennies within the Dziki cartel and with their known enemies. Attacks on civilians were explicitly prohibited. And yet he’d used his abilities on the beautiful Ms. Ever Strange.
He hadn’t known who she was—a quick search on his phone on the way to the office revealed he couldn’t have picked someone worse. Hers was a powerful and well-loved magickal family going back to the early days of High Magick. Ever herself ran the empire while her recently-deceased father invented new med-magick technologies that saved lives. They were heroes not just in Chicago but around the country. And she personally ran a world-wide charity benefitting charmers and simples because, apparently, she was a living saint as well.
And he’d fed off her sexual fantasies.
Arrow was right. He was so fucked.
A word from her could end his career… but she hadn’t said a thing.
Yet.
She stood between them in the elevator on the ride up to the 7th floor of the Chicago field office building. Arrow had brought them in through the south employee entrance, and their mix of clothes—from Zane’s riveted boots to Ever’s soft, white tennis shoes—hadn’t turned many heads. The building was full of witches and wizards in every capacity—analysts, technicians, security staff—and everyone dressed as worked best for their job at the moment. But once they reached the MCD floor, they’d stand out. Special Agent-in-Charge Burrows ran a tight ship, and they were expected to wear bureau-standard attire when in-office. Zane had never held to it—he couldn’t keep a wardrobe of slick leather overcoats and tailored g-man suits in his dingy, temporary apartment on the west side, not when he was undercover—but he wished for once he could fit in at the bureau. Just for one damn minute.
He snuck a glance at Ever just before the elevator stopped. She caught his gaze and held it, peering up at him with an open look—her curious brown eyes were almost as intense as her magick. He didn’t know what he could say to erase what he’d already done. What he was.
“How long have you worked for the bureau?” she asked, a lot more casually than the intense scanning she’d just given him.
“Not long enough.” He instantly regretted it as soon as her eyes narrowed. Could he do nothing right with this woman?
Arrow was shooting him looks that said, Please for the love of magick shut up, so he did. The elevator dinged their arrival.
“Zane is a great asset for the bureau.” Arrow led the way out of the elevator, careful to stay close to Ever and escort her through the field of cubicles. “He’s helped put away a lot of bad guys.”
Ever twisted to face Zane and let a smile loose. “Your partner likes you.”
Zane kept his mouth shut. His partner was trying to keep him from being fired. Arrow was also leading them straight to the boss’s office. Zane steeled himself internally, and Ever’s smirk quickly faded. They wound through the bullpen, each analyst in their cubicle, working cases from all over Chicago—anything concerning magickal crimes came through their floor. MCD wouldn’t get involved just because a man set his neighbor’s house on fire with magick—they had jurisdiction only over illegal magick. Peddling enhancers, the drug trade, anything concerning cartels and organized crime. One floor down, the CID (Criminal Investigative Division) soaked up any bureau-level crimes that didn’t involve illegal magick. The lines of jurisdiction were often blurred, but both were under the Criminal Response Branch. Everything else fell under the other branches—National Security, Intelligence and Counterintelligence, and Magitek, which housed both the Cyber Crimes Division and Chicago’s local Science and Magick Labs. The steel-and-glass building took up a full city block, but most of the drug business was handled here on the 7th floor—which was also where the Special Agent-in-Charge kept her office. Arrow could have checked in with one of the assistants, but no—they were going straight to the top with Ms. Ever Strange.
Arrow tapped on the door, but the glass-walled office had the blinds up, and the boss must have seen them coming—she waved them in. SAIC Etta Burrows was etched on the nameplate on the door they swung open.
She already had a scowl, mostly directed at Zane.
“Got a minute, boss?” Arrow asked.
She leaned back in her chair and tapped her fingers together, one pair after another, as if she were conjuring magick to hurl at Zane just for good measure. She was an older witch at the height of her power—mid-fifties, feathery streaks of white in her midnight-black hair, and pale blue eyes measuring him and what trouble he’d brought. Her bureau-standard overcoat hung on a rack near the windows overlooking the city, and she was dressed the same impeccably-tailored, black-leather suit she always wore. He honestly couldn’t imagine her in anything else.
“You’re in my office,” she said coolly to Zane. “That can’t be good.”
“No, Ma’am.” The heat on the back of his neck was already rising.
&n
bsp; Ever stepped forward, extending her hand. “I’m Ever Strange. You must be Etta Burrows.”
Burrows arched a thin, black eyebrow, but then rose to shake hands with Ever then settle back in her seat again. “From the Family Strange, as in Strange Medical Technologies?”
“That’s one of the businesses we run out of Chicago. My father is Asher Strange… was.”
Burrows frowned. “My condolences. Excuse me, but I have two agents who need to explain themselves.”
“We have a bit of a situation,” Arrow jumped in, glancing at Zane. “But I’m sure it’s something we can work out.”
“Don’t be vague, Agent Grimes,” she said. “I’ve got a call with the Director in five minutes.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” But Arrow just looked to Zane, which was fair—he hadn’t briefed his partner, not sure how much to say in front of Ever. But the only real question here was if he would keep his job.
“You’re aware I had the meet with Pennies,” Zane started. At least he’d gone by the book with that—that’s why Arrow had been on standby to pick him up.
Burrows flicked a look at Ever but quickly assessed that she was read in. “Did he bring Jankov in under the Dziki umbrella? Tell me the answer is no. I don’t need Pennies’ brand of brutal spreading to the rest of the city.”
“Pennies executed him.” Then Zane remembered he had actual intel for his boss. “And there’s something going on with the overdoses on skitter.”
“What? Back up.” Burrows rose swiftly from her chair, stalked around her desk—Ever had to step out of the way—and came face-to-face with Zane. “Pennies killed Jankov.”
“And three of his men,” Zane said.
Arrow was full-alert now. Ever’s lips were pressed tight. He’d told her there were bodies, but she might have forgotten in all the trauma of the escape. Of his attack. He knew his assault left his victim’s mind in a haze—just as it left him magick-drunk. Thankfully, most of that had passed, but only because the contact had been brief in both cases.
“You witnessed it?” Burrows’ pale blue eyes were electrified with interest. “Tell me we’ve at least got him for a capital crime.”
Zane shrunk back from her zeal. “Not quite.” He swallowed. “I was… incapacitated at the time. It won’t hold up.”
“Shit.” Burrows stepped back and pressed a thin-fingered fist to her lips. “You’re sure?”
“Sorry, boss.” One of the few mental magick Talents on the approved-use list in the Justice Department was memory scrying—searching through a witness’s memories to validate their testimony. But all a scrying witch would see in the moment Pennies executed his chief rival would be Zane hungering through and feeding on Ever’s sexual fantasies.
“All right,” Burrows said with a sigh, shaking her head. “It’s just our bad luck he made you punish someone while he was doing the deed.”
Zane cringed. “Yeah, bad luck.” More like bad choice—but if he hadn’t made it, Ever wouldn’t be standing in the room. He couldn’t help flicking a look to her. She held his gaze again, like in the elevator. She didn’t nod. Didn’t blink. And his mental magick only extended to loosening erotic inhibitions, not reading minds. But he was certain she was telling him something with that unflinching stare. He just wasn’t sure what.
“Do you think he knew?” Burrows mused, tapping her finger against her chin. Then she caught the stare between them—too late, and too obviously, he broke it. Burrows looked between them, suspicion alive on her face. But she directed her question to Zane, slowly and carefully. “Did Pennies suspect you? Did he compromise you on purpose?”
“No.” Zane was sure about that. “It was just bad timing. He still trusts me. Maybe even more now.”
His boss nodded, and he knew that was the most important thing—Special Agent-in-Charge Etta Burrows bled FBI blue and probably had the motto stamped on her pillow. Fidelity. Bravery. Integrity. Everything and all things were about the bureau. And the pursuit of capital-J Justice. It was the sole reason she agreed to bring an incubus on board, to accept him into her field office and her high-profile investigation of the Diziki cartel—because he could uniquely get the job done. That was all that mattered.
Burrows stepped back, so she had everyone’s attention—Zane and Ever and his hapless-faced partner Arrow. “And now is when you explain how one of Chicago’s most notable citizens is involved in this mess.” She glanced at Ever, who opened her mouth to say magick-knows-what—Zane’s heart missed a beat—but Burrows held up a pale finger to her. “From my agents, if you don’t mind, Ms. Strange.”
That was the most deference Zane had ever seen Burrows give anyone. Including the Director of the FBI. She quickly returned her piercing stare to Zane.
He cleared his throat. “The meetup between Pennies and Jankov was tense. There had to be lookouts all through the neighborhood. I know Pennies had his out. Ms. Strange must have stumbled into their sweeps. They forced her into the bakery for interrogation. I felt certain Pennies was prepared to kill her, but I convinced him… to, um…” Shit. It was either lie straight out to his division chief or tell her he’d violated her strict orders.
“Zane said he would keep me for a while.” Ever’s voice startled him so badly, he flinched.
“Keep you?” Burrows seemed equally astonished by the fact that she’d spoken and the words that she’d said.
“Yes.” Ever straightened her loose-fitting blouse and did a damn fine job of looking mildly offended. Zane didn’t buy it for a second. “I’d seen what he could do. To that other man. I hardly believed incubi existed, so as you can imagine, I didn’t realize at the time that he was actually rescuing me. How was I to know he was undercover?” The indignation there sounded real. “So there was a bit of, shall we say, combat before we came to an understanding.” She tipped her head toward Arrow. “With your other agent as well. In addition, I believe there may have been some damage to the agents’ vehicle.”
Zane blinked. Ever just lied to his boss, a federal agent. With a nearly complete fabrication and omitting the one thing he needed his boss not to know.
Burrows was like a hawk after a tiny mouse of truth in a field of facts. “You fought Agent Walker?”
“Is that Zane?” said Ever with a slight smile. “Honestly, we hadn’t quite gotten to last names. But yes.” Then she looked straight at him with that steady stare, intense and full of meaning. “And I owe you my life, Agent Walker. So, thank you for that.”
“I see.” Burrows turned, took a couple steps back, then faced them as she leaned against her desk. But she didn’t see—and Zane had Ever to thank for that. Arrow was keeping a straight face through all of this. Not that he knew much more than Burrows—for all he could say, it had gone down just as Ever said. And now they had an explanation for how she knew Zane was incubus. It was a damn fine piece of lying, and Zane had grown up with all kinds of thugs who did nothing but lie. Ms. Strange was a pro.
“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” Burrows said. “Pennies Machnik thinks his chief enforcer—an incubus—just took Ever Strange captive for purposes of magickal sexploitation.” Her gaze sharpened on Zane. “Does he know who she is?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” And that part was unfortunate. Now that he wasn’t imminently in danger of losing his job, he wanted to actually do it—and that didn’t involve endangering high-society women in the world of drug cartels. Especially ones who had just saved his ass. “Boss, I think she needs to disappear.”
“Excuse me?” Ever’s voice had hiked up.
“We could just have her die, like the others.” Burrows was already ten steps ahead.
Zane shook his head. “We can’t kill her. Pennies wants her back alive.”
“I’m sorry, what are we talking about now?” Ever had lurched forward a step and stopped, as if she could physically disrupt their conversation by being in the middle of the room.
“The bureau would just fake your death,” Arrow jumped in, helpfully, with a scowl for
Zane. “But a safe house is probably better. And also temporary.”
“Until we bring Pennies down,” Burrows added, nodding.
“Hang on.” Ever’s eyes had gone wide. “I’m not going to hide out in a safe house.”
Burrows’ gaze snapped to Ever, who suddenly looked a lot less confident than moments ago when she was carefully lying to a federal agent to save Zane’s job. He couldn’t figure her out. He’d called her naïve in the alley, and there were moments when that seemed dead-on—like when she stumbled into a gangster world she didn’t understand like she thought she was invincible. Then there were moments when that blazing confidence sat entirely natural on her shoulders—like she’d earned it, but in some darker world than she seemed to belong. She was… complicated. Plus there was the allure of her magick drumming a steady beat of temptation on every nerve in his body—he was completely off balance just standing next to her.
Burrows was taking way too much time to examine her. “Ms. Strange, would you like to tell me what you were doing slumming through gangland Chicago? It’s a long way from the North Shore and downtown.”
Ever lifted her chin, and that confidence came zooming back. “As a matter of fact, I would. My father’s death wasn’t accidental. It was not an overdose—the man never took drugs a day in his life. I traced the lot he was supposedly found with back to this Dziki cartel, and—”
“I’m sorry, you did what?” Burrows interrupted.
“I run a medical technologies empire,” Ever said coolly. “We know a few things about drug manufacturing.”
“Of course.” But Burrows’ tone was likewise cool. “So you decided to ask the cartel about their manufacturing processes.”
Ever scowled. “I decided to ask them what they did with my father’s body. It disappeared from the morgue.”
Burrows’ eyebrows lifted, and she looked to Arrow. “Do we have him on our missing list?”
“I’m on it.” Arrow hustled out of the office and into the bullpen, stopping at the first analyst’s desk.
