by Dianna Love
“I grew up with brothers.” I sighed, missing them terribly. Well, maybe not all of them, not like I was missing Van, but just the camaraderie of focused, task-driven, intelligent kindred spirits. I was so solo here and flying in the dark.
“Brothers? You don’t say. Any of them look like you? I mean the coloring and the height? You’re a looker, you know. Surprised Frankie-O didn’t get you to be the replacement girl instead of that twit he brought in. Did you see the way she paired gold Tiffany cuffs with the magenta Escada fur hat? It was too gauche. Everyone knows silver would have been better, much, much better.”
Yeah, as if I knew what a magenta Escada fur hat was. I grinned again before focusing on business. “I thought Sasha was doing all right.” It was an outright lie. The woman had rubbed nearly everyone wrong except Franco, but maybe they were twins separated at birth. Or maybe it was Bran’s protection as long as Sasha and he were enjoying whatever they had going on.
“Give me a break.” Collette chortled. “The woman’s a flub. Can’t walk, can’t talk.”
“I thought you were supposed to just model the clothes.”
“Oh, no, dear, you’ve got to get out of the back rooms more and see what’s happening. Early in the day just strutting is okay, the clients don’t seem to be chatty then. But after the liquor starts flowing they start asking all sorts of questions and we’re supposed to be friendly-like.”
“What kind of questions? About the clothes?”
“Sometimes.” Collette took another drag. “A lot about Bran. What’s he like? Who he’s dating? The dirt.”
“And he doesn’t mind?”
“Sure he minds, but he also knows that’s business, so he puts up with it. Most days.”
“Then what?” My mind tumbled with the options for payback a pissed off warlock could extract.
“He needs to break away the same as the rest of us. Only it’s harder for him cuz he’s the reason so many of these women come personally to the shows and buy big.”
Suzette’s words came back to me. Of course he was the reason. A few word spells cast and they’d be snapping up clothes right and left. And doing more? Like stealing for him? Kidnapping people? It wasn’t too far a stretch.
It usually took time to fully cast a word spell. Cast it so strongly that the victim would be ensnared even away from the warlock. The female clients weren’t here very long, but then a lot of them would be easy prey. Maybe it didn’t take that long with the most susceptible, but hell, he had enough women stuck right with him 24/7.
But did that sound like Bran?
A tiger trapped in a gilded cage. I glanced over my shoulder at the yacht floating gently in the harbor. The boat was huge, especially when compared to the casually drifting sailboats and scuttling power boats wafting past it.
Part of me actually felt sorry for him. How long had he been doing this? Was the pressure getting to him? From his tone in the office with his cousin, I’d say that was a big yes.
Wait, that wasn’t my issue, unless it impacted the mission. The man was an adult, and an adult warlock at that, with more going for him than the average male. Last thing he needed was my sympathy.
Get my head on straight. Now.
“It must take a lot of money to host these events in these kind of locations.” I kept my tone casual, trawling for some insights as to who would want to steal and why. Two reasons came to mind. Money or power. Intel easily translated into power, but money was the more direct reason.
Collette glanced toward the yacht. “I hear that place alone goes for a hundred thousand a week.”
“A week? To sleep on a boat?” I coughed out the words. I could buy my dad’s pig farm ten times over for that.
“It’s not a boat, dearie, it’s a yacht.” Collette dragged out the word to take the sting out of her correction. “And that don’t include the fancy guys doing the ferrying back and forth and any of the extras. Extra servers. Extra booze. Extra everything.”
“That’s a fortune.” Here was a reason to steal and steal big. Cripes, with that kind of money I could help Dad—”
“Big funds to you and me, that’s a fortune, but those dresses Bran designs start at six figures and go up. And some of these ladies, after a day in Bran’s company, they’ll buy a dozen of ‘em.”
“For dresses?” My theory tying Bran, or his cousin, into needing money as an excuse to steal was disappearing like mist in the morn; but I was reluctant to give it up. Greed made so much sense for thefts. Unless the thefts meant something else? Was Bran the one behind the rumors of a single creature that wanted to unite the non-humans? Warlocks were known for their egos and I’d already seen his in action.
Collette stubbed the butt of her cigarette out beneath her sandaled heel. “Not that I don’t think Bran’s clothes aren’t worth it, but blimey, I could get me a nice flat in Notting Hill for what some of these ladies dole out in a day. You coming, luv?”
“In a minute.” I waited until the other woman walked off before I bit my lip, squared my shoulders, and did what I’d wandered over here to do. I speed-dialed Mandy; who answered on the third ring.
CHAPTER 19
“Anything to report?” Mandy asked, right on task, no how the hell are you doing or chitchat. No Ling Mai wants to talk to you either.
“No, but I’ll be going on board the yacht for the next two days and may not find the privacy to check in. Any news on Van—”
“No. Jaylene’s still in Paris. Kelly’s backing her up. If they find something they’ll tell those who need to know—”
In other words, suck it up and quit whining
“Got it.” Wouldn’t I love to use a quick rash spell or maybe a human-to-newt transformation spell? Who was she to smack me for asking? I didn’t need that message being shoved down my throat.
“There is another option.” Mandy held out an olive branch. So why was I guessing I wasn’t going to like what she had to say?
I waited until a noisy Vespa putted past to push in the direction I wanted. “For backup?”
“Possibly,” she paused, then rushed ahead as if countering my objections before I even had any. “Not from the agency.”
Of course not. Which meant I was still persona non grata.
Mandy continued as if my silence meant I was listening. “This could be a temporary Band-Aid but at least you wouldn’t be alone and—”
“Who?”
“We could ask help from Interpol. They—”
“No.”
“But you haven’t—”
I waited until I heard her deep intake of breath on the other end of the line.
“We call in Interpol and it’s admitting we can’t handle the job. Ling Mai is so not going to go for that.” Plus Ling Mai would point the finger at me as not being up to snuff and poof, I’d be out of the agency, heading to prison, and Van would be on his own. And to think just days ago leaving the IR group was my agenda.
“I just thought—”
Yeah, right. Two strikes and I’d be axed. That would suit Mandy to a T.
“Forget it, I’ve got things under control.” So maybe I had a smidge of my dad’s stubbornness, but damnit, no way was I going to give Ling Mai an excuse to pull me because I wasn’t up for the job. No freakin’ way.
Asking for outside help sounded like a desperation move. Ling Mai’s whole focus had been on the team working with complete independence. If other organizations were called in to save our fannies how could any of the others trust us?
I eyed the boat nearing the quay to snag the last load of us, and talked fast, “Any more info on St. Clair?”
“No. Not yet.”
Some days it didn’t pay to get out of bed.
“Fine. I’ve got to go,” I said, tightening my shoulders. There was one more stop I wanted to make before getting on any floating boat.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine on the yacht,” Mandy sniped, as if something bad could happen on a luxury yacht with three dozen people around. But it mad
e sense, too. Yeah, I was isolated with at least three non-humans, Bran, his cousin, and Sasha, but how likely was something to happen in a small, cramped space filled with very wealthy and very public people?
Which reminded me. “Do you know how deep they’ve run financials on Bran?”
“As in his net worth?”
“No, deeper than that. Underground money problems? Does the guy have a gambling issue?” He was a risk-taker, oh, yeah; but I wasn’t sure about being a gambler. “Or does he support a dozen illegitimate children around the world?” Or lovers. That sounded more than plausible, but did I want that answer? “Or is he having cash flow issues? These venues are not cheap.”
Most likely scenario, but would it be enough to risk getting caught as a common thief? On our previous operation Ling Mai had run a thorough background search on all the players, but it never hurt to ask again. There had to be a big reason for someone to take the kind of risks they were taking with these thefts.
For Bran’s reputation, the publicity alone could make it worth it, in a world where publicity, good or bad, sold product.
“It looks like at one time Interpol went into that line quite a bit, but found nothing.”
Crapola. Good news? Or bad?
“Check again, just in case.” I eyed the launch approaching, white against choppy waves.
“More problems?” Mandy asked in her sweet-coated sarcastic way.
Don’t be a whiner. I’ve been in a chateau, a hotel fit for kings and now a luxury yacht, and I’m acting like a frustrated two-year old.
It wasn’t the hairdressing part. That I could do with my eyes closed. It was the lack of solid leads and pussyfooting around in a world so far from my Idaho-plain background. That and not getting one step closer to finding Van.
“No. Nothing. You got anything else for me?” I figured I had two minutes max before I had to cut contact.
“One of those sets of prints you sent came back belonging to a woman with an assault and battery record and working under a false name.”
Yes, finally, now I was getting somewhere. “Who?”
“Name she’s currently using is Collette Henderson.”
CHAPTER 20
I had to scramble to accomplish the last errand I wanted to run before boarding the launch, which was smaller and wobblier than I had imagined. Magic issues aside I didn’t have a lot of experience with boats and nerves stretched too tight weren’t helping.
“You sick, girl?” Franco asked, his tone taking me to task.
“No.” Not yet.
“You look like hell,” came his snappish response.
Bite me, punk! But knowing getting snippy with him would haunt me I squeezed my lips shut and grimaced. Which was easy to do. Maybe I was sea sick, or only too aware of what lived in deep watery depths. Mer people, selkies, hyllas, the list went on and on. I may have grown up in landlocked Idaho, but I’d read my fairytales as a kid and knew water held as many threats as dark forests or isolated castles.
Good thing the trip from shore to ship lasted less than fifteen minutes, which was about fourteen minutes too long for my taste. Before I scrambled up the gangplank or whatever they called the ladder thingy near the back of the boat, I touched the items I’d picked up right before I boarded the ferry. A silver necklace with a cross and two small, but still workable, silver earrings also in the form of crosses.
Yeah, I looked like a repentant sinner, but a lot of non-humans disliked silver even more than iron, so I felt marginally safer.
At least I did before I reached the top of the ladder, one hand clutching my hairdressing valise, which made it problematic to clamber up anything. My ribs strained against the awkward action which meant I was breathing in short, shallow breaths as I reached the last rung. Above me a hand appeared topside to help me from ladder to deck. I grabbed it rather than risk a dunking in the sea, only to realize as I was tugged forward, that it was Bran doing the heave-hoeing instead of some helpful deckhand.
I stumbled, blaming my clumsiness on my carrying case and not on my surprise, or the fact that he was close, way too close for my comfort. He steadied me which only made things worse as it meant his hands bracketed my shoulders, my face practically buried in his chest; and a very nice, very broad chest it was.
“Warding off threats?” he murmured, scrambling my brain even more as he raised a finger to brush against my necklace, the touch feather light but very intimate.
Of course he’d notice what I was wearing, not that my silver was burning his fingers.
I stepped back a few inches, as any more distance and I’d topple backwards off the boat.
“Next time I’ll get the version that keeps pesky warlocks at bay,” I whisper-snarled, wanting out of the awkward closeness, but it wasn’t easy to step around him. He blocked the way toward an open door which I assumed led inside the yacht. So I forced the issue. “That way?” I shrugged a shoulder in the direction I wanted to go. Right then I might even have considered heading back down the ladder, anything to move away from him.
The curl of his lips told me he knew exactly what I was thinking as he held his stance and me, making sure I knew who was in control here.
It wasn’t me.
Then he stepped aside, but only enough that I was forced to brush past him.
Bully.
I’d only taken a step forward when he leaned in, so close I could feel his breath against my ear as he whispered, “Beware, little witch. There be dragons in these waters.”
Great. Just great. My own thoughts circling back to mimic me.
I wanted to stick my tongue out at him but the half-moon canter of his lips dared me to do just that, so instead I straightened my shoulders and stepped forward.
Last glance out of the corner of my eye was of his face, but he no longer showed a mocking expression. No, he looked worried.
CHAPTER 21
Dominique glanced around the twelve-hundred-square-foot bedroom and grimaced. Not bad for a yacht, but she wanted more.
“Patience,” she hummed as she waved her private maid away. At least Liveras got that part right, each of the twenty-some guests were also provided their own crew-member to serve them. Several of the crew looked quite yummy. Maybe later.
Her cell phone buzzing interrupted some pleasant planning.
“Dominique here,” she answered.
“You’ve erred again.” The distorted echoing voice was like scratching a chalkboard.
That quickly her plans disappeared, as did the warm anticipation.
“What do you mean?” Everything was already underway for the next test. What more did they want?
“You have a second informant on your staff.”
“An informant?” That was ridiculous. But there were two new girls. Both strangers. Both not hired by her. Could they both be infiltrators? “Who is it?” And more importantly, how did the voice find out before she did?
A knock on her door had her jumping. She cupped the phone speaker. “Just a minute,” she called out.
“Who’s there?” came the voice on the other end of the line.
“I don’t know. I’ll take care of them in a moment. Who’s the leak? One of the new women?”
“Yes.”
She knew it. The minute she shifted her attention, it got screwed up.
“Both—?”
But the line went dead.
Merde. She had to fix everything personally.
The knock sounded again. Schooling her features to a calmness she didn’t feel she crossed to the doorway, opening it with a smile. “Yes?”
Her smile deepened when she saw who it was. She might have a new impostor in her midst, but she also had her own insiders. It was time to change the test. Move it up a bit.
“Come in, we must talk.”
CHAPTER 22
“New girl, you’re all thumbs today. Pull it together.”
I glanced over at Franco. He was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow.
“If you can’t do the job—”
“Lighten up Frankie-O. The poor thing can’t get anything done with you breathing down her neck,” Collette shouted from where she changed in full view of the room.
“Does it look like I’m talking to you?” came Franco’s acerbic reply.
“No, and you wouldn’t.” Collette thrust a finger toward Franco. “Because you’re a twit, not an idiot, and you know I’ll clobber you if you push.”
“Well, I—”
“Thanks, Collette, but he’s right.” I had to stop the war before it accelerated. I looked at a stunned Franco, fisted hands on his bony hips covered in lime-green cargo pants. “I’ll try harder.”
“That’s the attitude I want to see around here, less lip and more zip.” He grinned, then realized he’d taken the thunder out of his own earlier words. “See that you do.”
He was gone before he caught sight of the other finger Collette gave him.
I did a last tease to Pamela’s indigo-through-chocolate bangs, finishing the sex-kitten look before calling, “Next?”
It was the new woman—Sasha—who shimmied over and sat down before me.
“What number are you wearing?” I asked, wondering what to hand the woman while I had her trapped.
“The woodgrain Shibori chiffon.”
“Could you say that in layman’s terms?”
Sasha’s voice reeked of ennui. “The kimono. Golds. Pleated, quilted, and dyed silk.”
For love of the Spirits. Growing up in jeans, and owning less than half a dozen dresses in my whole life, I sure liked a few of Bran’s designs too much. Lucky Sasha to get to wear one of them.
“I’m going to keep your hair simple then.” I eyed the woman as I’d caught Franco eying the clothes. “A sleek side-part chignon.”
“Whatever.”
Or I could make the woman look like Bride of Frankenstein and have neck pains all day.
I picked up a jar of gel and held it toward her. “Could you hold this for me for a moment?”
The woman looked at it then nodded to a nightstand next to us. “Put it there.”
