by Jami Gray
I tried to shrug, but it felt awkward. “We’re going back over everything, so why not that as well?”
“Because that’s an image I’m not sure you want to carry.”
An unexpected warmth blossomed as I recognized that he was trying to protect me. People don’t protect things that don’t matter, right? “I think it’s necessary.”
“I’ll set it up under one condition.” He left the bookcase and came over to the desk.
I waited.
“You tell me the real reason why you need this.”
Unable to look away, I knew I’d have to give in order to get. “I’ll tell you if it works.”
He held my gaze, and it was a long moment before he finally nodded.
I wasn’t sure if it was relief or nerves that made me happy I was sitting, not that it mattered. “Right, then. I think we can call this a bust.” I pushed up from the chair and rounded the desk. I didn’t get far because Zev stood in my path, refusing to move. I stopped in front of him and decided to go on the offensive. “What?”
He stared down at me for a long moment, his thoughts hidden. “I hope you know what you’re doing, babe.”
I swallowed at the thread of concern I heard and hoped so too.
Chapter Eight
I walked out the door and back into the warm night, leaving Zev to reset the alarm, even though it was obviously a pointless deterrent. I was halfway down the walk when I lost the sound of his footsteps. I turned to see him looking at his phone. “What is it?”
“Bryan.” His fingers flew over the screen. “We have a nine o’clock appointment with Chloe’s parents tomorrow morning.” In my back pocket, my phone vibrated. “I just sent you the address.”
“Thanks.” I waited until he started forward again then led the way back to his bike. “Now what?”
When we were standing next to his bike he said, “Now, you and I are going to finish our conversation from earlier.” He unlocked the helmets and handed me one.
I considered my options as I took the helmet, my movements automatic as I put it on and secured it. I wasn’t sure this was the right time to discuss what had happened between us and his lack of follow-through, but then again, when would be? He got his helmet on, swung onto his bike, fired it up, and walked it back. Once he’d it aimed down the drive, I hopped on and wrapped my arms around his waist. Since there was no nice way to start our conversation, I stayed quiet while he headed out of the neighborhood.
“You have every right to be pissed,” he said, his deep voice filling the helmet’s speakers in toe-curling stereo. “But I wasn’t blowing you off.”
My knee-jerk reaction was a snarky, Yeah, right, but I didn’t say it out loud. I was way past an age when that would have been a logical response. Besides, truthfully, I wasn’t angry with him so much as disappointed. But arguing semantics on a speeding bike didn’t seem smart.
“I’m not pissed.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No,” I said. And because the helmet offered an illusion of distance, which made it feel safe to risk being bluntly honest, I decided to go for broke. “Disappointed, yeah, but not pissed.” I should have stopped there, but in full-on maturity mode, I kept sharing. “Honestly, I kind of expected it.” And I had, just maybe not for the reasons he expected.
He jerked, and against my chest, his spine turned into a rod of steel. “What the hell, Rory?” he said sharply. “You think I’m that big of a dick?”
Okay, maybe being mature is overrated. The rock-solid path underfoot just turned spongy. I fought the urge to squirm. “I never thought you were a dick, Zev.”
“But…?” he snapped.
Dammit, I knew this was a bad idea. But it was obvious he was determined to go there, so I went along, because if we didn’t clear this up, it could impact both the investigation and the team dynamics and not in a good way. “But you made me an offer. It’s clear that you didn’t expect me to take you up on it. When I did…” I trailed off, letting him fill in the blanks.
A muttered curse echoed through the helmet. “So you thought what? One kiss was enough, even though it damn near gelded me to leave? Or that once I had time to think about getting involved with you, I decided you weren’t worth it?”
Wow, okay, then. Instead of focusing on the little kernel of beauty buried in what he’d said, I concentrated on the note of hurt in his voice. I had to admit it sounded shitty when laid out like that, but it was hard to deny the underlying truth. Whether I liked it or not, that insecurity existed in me. What he’d said was scarily close to what I thought.
I didn’t want to answer, but in keeping with my promise of no games, I cleared the lump from my throat and mumbled, “Something like that.”
A minute passed as we rode through the pools of amber light thrown by the streetlamps above, both of us far from relaxed. We swept through an intersection and he slowed, easing to the right and turning into a dimly lit parking lot in front of a closed grocery store. He parked the bike at the far end, away from the scattered cars and out of the path of any wandering late-night customers. I unwrapped my arms from around his waist and sat back as he braced his feet against the pavement and turned off the bike. Still sitting on the bike, he yanked off his helmet and hooked it on a grip.
I carefully removed my helmet so I could hear him and eyed his stiff back warily. “Zev?” I said, my voice small and quiet. “What are we doing?”
Instead of answering, he reached back. “Helmet.”
I handed it over. He hung it next to his, then he reached back and grabbed my hand. I curled my fingers into his as he swung off the bike. Despite the humming tension between us, he gently pulled me with him until I followed. When we were both standing, he used his grip to tug me close. He didn’t let my hand go. Instead, he pressed it flat against his waist. Off-kilter, I put my free hand on his chest. Under the soft cotton, his heart beat steadily against my palm. I tilted my head back to find him watching me, his expression a mix of frustration and hunger. His hands went to my hips and held tight, keeping me pressed against him. My body melted without my permission.
“Three weeks, Rory.”
I blinked at the low, rough rasp of his voice.
“For three weeks, I’ve thought about you and what you’re hiding.” I opened my mouth to protest but he talked over me. “I’ve been doing my damnedest to get free of my obligations so I can make time for you,” he growled. “After hauling in Theo Mahon and dealing with the fallout from the Thatcher fiasco, I got hit with this mess. I meant what I said—I wanted to call you. Thing is, I didn’t think it would be fair to call only to have to hang up minutes later.”
Trepidation and joy speared through me, but reality kicked in, and so did caution. “I would’ve taken a couple of minutes if that’s what you had to offer, Zev.”
“I get that.” His gaze held steady. “But first, you’re hiding something from me, something that scares you shitless. I can tell you to trust me, but you won’t do it because, trite though it is, trust comes with time. Time I wanted to spend with you but just didn’t have. So when you walked into that room today, I was fucking thrilled because it meant you would be part of whatever this was with me. Not an ideal way to pursue things, but right now, I’ll take it.”
If it hadn’t been for this investigation, I would have imitated a monkey and wrapped myself around him after that little spiel. “Um, I’m not sure we can.” When he frowned, I added, “I’m suppose to be the neutral party here, and if we start things now, questions will be asked, valid questions.”
He didn’t rush to answer. Instead, he took his time to think, which I appreciated, so I waited even as worry crept in. Finally, he said, “I get that you’re establishing your reputation, and working with Sabella is key to ensuring that.”
“It is,” I agreed, not sure where he was going with this.
One of his hands left my waist. He brushed a finger along my jaw. “I respect that this job is important to you, but I’m not willing to mi
ss out on whatever this is between us. So I have an offer for you.”
Half-mesmerized by that delicate touch, I murmured, “I’m listening.”
Amusement lightened his eyes, and his lips curved up the tiniest bit. “Starting tomorrow, when we meet to go see the Sellareses, we’ll keep things professional.”
“Okay.” I drew the word out because clearly I was missing something.
His amused expression deepened, but his voice remained serious. “After this case is done, all bets are off, and we see where this leads.”
I wanted to jump all over it and opened my mouth to do just that, only to close it as logic interrupted. This assignment, this position that Sabella had put me in, was tricky as hell, and Zev and I were bound to butt heads. Not to mention the little fact that I was hiding what I was. Based on our past interactions, that omission was going to bite me in the ass and maybe leave my heart broken.
“Zev, I…”
His finger left my face as he dropped his hand to mine and squeezed. “Take a risk, Rory.”
He had no idea what he was asking, but his pull was strong enough to drag me under. “Yes.”
“Good.” He brought my hand up and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss against my palm.
“Zev.” My protest was faint, mainly because I could barely speak past the hungry need that erupted. “That’s not professional.” We were standing so close that I felt, more than heard, his huff of laughter.
“I said, starting tomorrow.” A wicked smile broke free. “Tonight, it’s just you and me. I want to spend time with you.”
Hearing him say that eased the sting of three weeks of silence. I gave in to temptation and cupped his jaw, indulging in the skin-shivering rasp of his close-cropped beard against my palm. I wanted so badly to throw responsibility to the wind and drag him to the nearest flat surface, but I couldn’t.
His dark chuckle indicated that he read my desire loud and clear. “Not like that. Something that won’t get us in trouble.”
Right, and that would be what? I fought through the haze of anticipation and need in search of something safe we could do that wouldn’t end up with us sprawled on a flat surface in a tangle of limbs. A half-formed idea came to me. “Ever watch a night race?”
“How is that staying out of trouble? Those aren’t exactly legal.”
He was right, but the one I had in mind would serve a dual purpose. “First, this one skims that line, as it’s outside city limits and is by invitation only.”
His amusement was replaced by speculation. “You driving?”
I shook my head. “Not this time.”
“And second?”
“Second, it’s a long shot, but it might help with the case.”
“How?”
And here’s where I could lose him. Arbiters were used to working within the back rooms and halls of the Arcane Families, not down in the streets, where power wasn’t decided by magic and money but by might and fists. My idea had sparked during our discussion at dinner, but I hadn’t felt comfortable mentioning it, mainly because my investigative experience was laughable when compared to the three Arbiters. But if Zev meant what he said about getting to know me…
Be honest, Rory—it’s a test.
I dropped my gaze to hide my wince. That chiding internal voice was partly right. It was a test of sorts, but it was also a good place to cull for clues. Night races were a hotbed of gossip—not just discussions of who was sleeping with whom but talk about what was going down in the streets as well. A couple of the regulars were more in the know than others, and if we were lucky, we might run into them.
Without looking at Zev, I said, “This crowd is eclectic enough that we might hear things, like, maybe about a new drug, one that offers a magical boost.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. When I finally looked up, he held my gaze and said, “You’re thinking someone might have taken the serum to the streets.”
I managed a half-hearted shrug. “It’s not much of a stretch.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” he said absentmindedly as if still thinking things through.
I wasn’t sure what was holding him back from making that connection. “Look, I think it’s safe to assume that whoever is behind this needs to know how it works on something other than lab animals, right? Especially if they’re trying to upset the status quo. What better way to prove their threat has teeth than by making an initial run on those no one will notice but who will still create visible results?”
Headlights swept over us as someone pulled out of a parking spot and headed toward the entrance. Zev watched them leave, and I watched him, easily reading the doubt in his face. I tried to douse my disappointment. “I told you it was a long shot.”
When he turned back to me, he said, “I’m not sure I agree with your assessment, but if there’s a chance you’re right, it can’t hurt.”
It wasn’t a glowing endorsement of my deductive skills, but I’d take it. “Good.” I patted his chest and stepped back. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone give you a hard time.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and turned to his bike. “I’ll pull up the route and see how long it’s going to take us to get there.”
He stayed at my back, his arm reaching around me to the helmets. “Don’t make me sound like a condescending ass.” He pulled mine off and handed it over.
Holding my phone in one hand, I took the helmet with the other. “But you do it so well.”
With both hands full, I was left wide-open for his sneak attack. His hands were at my waist, spinning me around, and before I could blink, he gave me a hard kiss. It was brief but carried a hell of a punch.
When he lifted his head, I read frustration, exasperation, and wry amusement in his expression. “I wasn’t trying to downplay your concern. It’s just that I’m not sure our target would think along those lines.”
Granted, being a villain wasn’t my natural inclination, but doing a test run with the serum seemed to me like a fairly straightforward evil action. “Why not?”
“Because there’s the flip side of taking the serum to the streets. Say they did use it and it worked. Think about the havoc that would create. Word of something like that would’ve spread like wildfire.” He let me go and got his helmet.
“Not this soon,” I pointed out. “Jonas’s death and the stolen vials was—what, a few days ago? If they go with the street-run test, they would’ve only had the last day or so to make it work. Which means any unusual occurrence would be hours old. Too recent to make its way above street level.”
He paused in the midst of putting on his helmet and gave a grunt. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
I flashed him a grin. “That’s why I’m here. To make sure you don’t miss anything.”
His grin disappeared behind his helmet.
I tucked my phone into my pocket, freeing my hands so I could get my helmet on. Head shield in place, I retrieved my phone, got behind Zev, and then pulled up the race’s location from memory. Zev kicked the bike to life as the map scrolled across the screen.
Noting the travel time, I wondered if Zev would be willing to switch seats as I could definitely cut that time in half. A hysterical image of Zev sitting bitch made me snort. Yeah, that will happen—never. To be heard over the bike’s rumble, I triggered the in-helmet speakers. “It’s going take a couple hours to get out there.”
“Send it to me.”
I did as he asked, and while he set up his GPS, I put my phone away then wrapped my arms around his waist. It took us about fifteen minutes to get clear of the residential streets before we hit the highway that would take us out beyond the suburbs and edged along the pristine desert beauty that belonged to the First Nations. If history had gotten anything right, it was leaving swaths of untamed lands to those who valued both its natural and cultural gifts. Not that the original Arcane Family settlers had much choice, since they’d landed on the shores of a land already claimed by the First Nations. Those families were quick to recognize
how vital the First Nations people were to their continued existence and set a solid groundwork that meant that hundreds of years later, the two powerful cultures were able to coexist peacefully for the most part. Not to say there wasn’t friction between them, but wielding almost equal power, magically and politically, kept the two groups from tipping the scales too far in any one direction. It also meant that the Traditionalists, those who possessed little to no magic, were caught in the unenviable middle.
Moonlight soon replaced streetlights, and the farther out we went, the less traffic there was until it was just us and the road. As the ride smoothed out, I eased my hold on Zev and sat back, leaving my hands on his hips. If it had just been me, I would have forgone the helmet in favor of feeling the wind in my hair, but this was Zev’s bike, which meant respecting Zev’s rules. There was nothing in the world like being behind the wheel of a finely crafted car built for speed, but it didn’t provide the same visceral rush that existed when it was just me and a bike. Although I had to say, sharing it with Zev was a thrill in itself.
“So tell me something.” Caught in the helmet’s confines, his voice surrounded me with an illusory intimacy.
“Something,” I said. When his laugh filled my ears, I couldn’t have stopped my grin if I wanted to. “What do you want me to tell you?”
“How often do you do this?”
“This what? Chase down murdering madmen or go for a ride with a dangerous man?”
“Is that what I am?”
“As if you need reassurance.”
He gave another dark chuckle. “Neither of the above. I meant racing.”
Ah, this must be part of his get-to-know-me quest. “When I can. Generally, I stick to those races that are less likely to require bail or an overnight stay in lockup.”
“Like this one?”
“Yep, like this one. Races like this are set up by private, anonymous sponsors. They deliberately choose spots that tend to be in the middle of nowhere, which lessens the chance of legal interference.”
