by Anya Breton
He spoke softly as if a loud volume alone would make her situation worse. “I called a Healer. They should be here in about ten minutes.”
“Someone is coming,” she said. “I only sense concern. But I didn’t sense anything from the fire inspector so…”
She was still trying to do her job even while bleeding on his driveway. Brook was remarkable. No wonder she was the best Ranger in the country.
“I didn’t sense anything in him either,” Morgan said. “It was almost as if he’d had—”
“A trigger word.”
“Exactly.” Morgan stood as a neighbor approached. He smiled despite the guilt filling his gut. He caught a thread of magic from the aether, sending it into the wide-eyed woman. “Morning.”
The woman had a healthy sprinkling of silver in her black hair and lines on her face. Morgan recognized her as the resident from three houses over. “Is everything okay? I heard a gunshot.”
“Oh yes.” Morgan pushed a heavy dose of magic into her, willing her to believe everything he said and ignore the wounded woman on the ground. “Our rental car backfired. You’d think they made vehicles better these days.” He shook his head for effect. “Go on home. Everything’s fine now.”
The neighbor blinked heavily twice. And then went home without a backward look.
“Put him in the trunk,” Brook said from the ground. “And then give me your arm. I can make it into the backseat. We need to get out of here.”
“We can’t yet. The Healer is coming here.”
“We have to. Whoever set you up with a trigger-happy fire inspector will check in to make sure the job was done. Call and have the Healer meet us somewhere else.”
“Brook—”
“I failed you enough on this job. Please, don’t make me fail you now.” Brook struggled onto her elbow, wincing as she did.
Morgan rushed to her side. “You haven’t failed me. I’m still alive.”
“You can tell me I haven’t failed you once I find whoever did this to you.”
“To us.”
It must have been the wrong thing to say. Brook stumbled forward, wrenching her arm out of his. She slapped her palms against the rental car and panted despite the short trip. Before he could help her inside, she got the door open, quietly hissing as she did, and then dropped into the backseat.
Morgan frowned at her stubborn show for a moment before starting on the tasks she’d assigned him.
The gunshot wound to the side hurt like a bitch. Meditation did little to minimize Brook’s pain. A portion of it had to do with the constant worried glances Morgan cast at her in the rearview mirror every time she was foolish enough to open her eyes.
Did he forget that protecting him was a big portion of her job? Thus far she hadn’t done a particularly good job of keeping him safe. Two gunmen had been on his front porch, his lake house had blown up with him in it and now the fire inspector had tried to shoot him at point-blank range—all on her watch. This was unacceptable.
Had she let herself slip because of their personal relationship? Or was she simply slipping?
She’d exerted what was left of her energy checking on the locations of the primary suspects on her phone. None of them were anywhere near the lake house. Was she wrong about the culprit examining his or her work, or was she wrong about the suspects? Either way, she was wrong.
“Are you okay?”
She exhaled inaudibly despite wanting to sigh. Brook didn’t bother with an answer because she couldn’t have given one without growling. This wasn’t Morgan’s failing. It was hers. He didn’t deserve her bad temper. No matter how much she’d like to make it his problem.
“Brook?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, grinding the words out.
“Does it hurt to talk?”
It hurt to breathe. She wanted neither to show weakness nor lie to him. Brook remained silent instead.
Words burst out of Morgan a pair of seconds later. “I’m really sorry. I never should have taken this position. It’s only caused the people I love trouble.”
Brook growled even though the effort caused her pain. “Shut up. You don’t know that’s what this is about. And don’t you dare apologize to me again for what they did.”
“It has to be about the position,” he said into the rearview mirror. “I’m too young. I wasn’t born here. There were others more—”
“You deserve to be regional high priest, Morgan. No one else is as suited to the position as you. You could give Desmond Marino a run for his money.”
He stared, gape-mouthed for far too long.
“Eyes on the road before you kill us both,” Brook said and then looked away.
Giving compliments wasn’t something she often did. But that hadn’t been a compliment. She’d merely told the truth as she saw it.
“Brook, I—”
“Don’t.” The emotion filling the car’s interior overwhelmed. She didn’t quite know what it was but knew enough to avoid it. “Whatever you’re about to say, save it.”
He went quiet and shifted his attention back to the road. The emotion didn’t fade. He was saving it rather than forgetting it. She shouldn’t be pleased.
But she was.
* * * * *
Morgan got to his feet as soon as Brook appeared from the restroom of the fast-food restaurant. She looked hale and hearty—a far cry from the haggard shuffle of when she’d gone inside. The only remaining evidence of her gunshot wound had been stuffed into the plastic bag hanging from her left forearm. The Healer who slipped out behind her had done an excellent job, and in less than ten minutes.
“Thank you,” he said to the Healer—a woman with softly waved raven hair. “You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”
She gave him a half-smile. “She would have lived.”
Brook spoke up for herself. “But I wouldn’t have been much use to him.”
He shot Brook a look of exasperation. Did she really think being wounded would have made her useless to him?
Brook continued speaking to the Healer. “Send your bill to Kyle Destan of the Rangers. He’ll have it paid at once.”
“No,” Morgan said. “I’ll pay the—”
“Morgan, we should be on our way,” Brook said. “The groceries in the trunk won’t keep forever.”
What groceries? They hadn’t bought any—
The fire inspector! How could he have forgotten about the man hogtied in the trunk? Thank Neptune he could make the inspector forget everything he’d endured today.
Brook strode for the door. Morgan started after her before realizing he ought to thank the Healer again. “Your quick response is greatly appreciated.”
“It’s what we do,” the Healer said.
He turned, finding Brook staring narrow-eyed at the pair of them. Was she jealous?
Wishful thinking. Being jealous would require her to care. Brook only cared about her career.
“Keys?” she asked once he was within a few feet in the parking lot.
He begrudgingly gave up the keys. The brief interval where she’d needed him was officially over. How sad that he resented her health.
She waited until they were both within the car’s cabin before speaking again. “We need someplace quasi-remote we can take the fire inspector.”
“There’s an abandoned factory a mile from here.”
“Only one?”
Morgan’s fingers tightened into a fist. It had been a few days since she’d insulted his territory. He’d hoped she’d come to appreciate it as he did. Clearly that wasn’t going to happen. If she didn’t care for the locale, didn’t care for him and finished the job, she’d have nothing to keep her here. He slumped farther into the seat.
Brook ignored the brooding slouch Morgan had adopted. He was hot and cold today. Her fault, no doubt. Or was it that gorgeous and oh so feminine Healer’s fault?
The abandoned factory turned out to be the perfect place to leave a pesky fire inspector. There was enough traffic to
obfuscate their arrival but fences to keep their activities appropriately secret.
“Stay in the car,” she said as she pulled the keys out of the ignition.
“Can you alter memories? You need me—”
“Stay in the car.”
No way was she about to let him near a potentially brainwashed assassin. Not when he was probably the trigger. Brook slid out of the car, checking all directions for witnesses. She paused and made sure Morgan wasn’t planning to step in despite her wishes.
Then she opened the trunk. The fire inspector was still unconscious. She pressed a finger to his neck. His pulse throbbed against her skin. He remained motionless as she hoisted him out. Similarly he failed to budge even after she’d cut all but one of the knots binding him.
Brook called on the aether, lassoing magic and sending it into the fire inspector. Silently she willed him to wake. His eyelids fluttered and then he jerked upright. A pained groan worked its way out of his throat.
“What—”
“Why did you attack my friend?”
“Attack? What do you mean? Ugh. My head is pounding. What happened?”
“You attacked my friend Morgan Seaton.”
Fury trickled across the empathic link. It wasn’t powerful but it was enough to prove some bad emotion was associated with Morgan.
Yet the fire inspector blinked blankly at her. “The guy who owns that lake house that blew up?”
“Yes, that one. Why did you attack him?”
“I didn’t attack anyone. The last thing I remember was telling you both about accelerants… Where the fuck are we?”
What had been the last word Morgan had said before the attack?
Brook braced her legs apart, readying for a fight. “Do you like taking risks?”
“Risks? Is this some sort of come-on?”
She barely resisted the urge to snort.
What else had Morgan said? Could it be… “Why would it be a come-on? Are you into environmentalists?”
The blast of ill will hit her like a swell. The fire inspector charged her. Brook punched him across the cheek. The snap back gave her enough time to channel more Water magic. Frantically she worked on countering the magic that had already been done to him.
A phone rang—his phone. He immediately settled down. Calmly he lifted the mobile phone out of his pocket and accepted the call. He set it to his ear but failed to greet the caller. The inspector’s hearing had to be abysmal given how easily she heard both sides of the conversation.
“Has it been done?” a mechanical voice asked.
Brook silently willed the inspector to lie.
“Yes,” he said.
The call disconnected.
“Give me your phone,” she said, backing up the demand with a heavy dose of magic.
Time to get Kyle and his team on the trail of whoever had called the fire inspector. If it was any Water witch, then they had their culprit.
* * * * *
“We’re just going to leave him here?”
Abandoning the vanilla human fire inspector didn’t feel right to Morgan.
“He tried to kill you,” Brook said as the lonely figure in the factory parking lot grew smaller in the side mirror.
“You verified he was brainwashed with a trigger word. It’s not his fault.”
“No, it’s not. But he’s still brainwashed to kill you. We don’t have time to fix that. Not with the intel I just got.”
“What intel did you just get?”
“Someone called him and asked if it was done while I was testing the trigger. I had Kyle trace the call. It came from Norman Foster’s phone.”
Morgan slumped fully into the seat, staring unseeing out the windshield. “So that’s it then. My own uncle is trying to kill me.”
Brook said nothing. Was that better than an I-told-you-so?
“What do we do now?”
“We do nothing.” Brook crept onto the main drag far too slowly for Morgan’s taste. “I get you to the local Ranger’s office where they can keep you safe. Now that I have reasonable doubt, I’ll go after Norman Foster. We’ll interrogate him once we have him in custody.”
“Interrogate?”
She nodded once. “All Ranger offices are equipped with weaved interrogation chairs. He won’t be able to fight our will. We’ll find out who his accomplice is.”
“And if it’s Irvin?”
“Then I’ll go out for one more pickup.”
“I don’t want you going for Irvin alone.” But that wasn’t all he was worried about. “You shouldn’t go for Norman alone either. These men are experienced.”
“I’m experienced too. This is my job.” Her cool tone implied he’d insulted her.
But Morgan wasn’t ashamed that he was worried about her. “Nevertheless, I’d feel better if you didn’t go alone.”
“Not that it’s your call, but it’s standard Ranger protocol to take backup when bringing in a suspect for interrogation. I won’t be alone.”
“Good. And I want to witness the interrogation.”
“You got bossy.” Was that a wry expression on her beautiful face?
Morgan couldn’t resist a teasing response. “I thought I was suited to my position and could give High Priest Marino a run for his money.”
Brook quietly chuckled. But it was a laugh all the same. He clamped his lips together to keep from beaming like an idiot. That was the second time he’d amused icy Brook Calder.
“You are,” she said.
That would have made his day if he hadn’t discovered his flesh and blood plotted to murder him.
She pulled the rental car into the parking lot of a small business marked with an insurance sign. This was nearly it. While he should have been more concerned with her safety, he instead thought only of how close they were to the end. Brook would bring Norman in, she’d interrogate him for Irvin’s name and then she’d breeze out of Morgan’s life, leaving him brokenhearted and more alone than ever.
The worst part of the whole thing was he’d known this was going to happen and he’d done nothing to stop it. No, instead he’d urged it on faster. Now he’d pay the price.
* * * * *
The expression on her face was that of a doctor breaking bad news. Then it was true. His uncle had tried to kill him.
Morgan gripped his thighs tighter as she grabbed a wooden chair, swiveled it around and sat in it backward. He’d already waited two hours on pins and needles, grinding his teeth because they hadn’t let him observe. She was killing him with this delay.
“Just tell me,” he said. “Quickly.”
“Norman Foster did plot to kill you.”
Morgan stared, hardly believing someone within his covens had planned and carried out assassination attempts.
“The money he withdrew was meant for the vanilla human duo with the guns that appeared on my first day here,” she said. “Similarly a five-thousand-dollar withdrawal from Foster’s account last month went to the male who pulled a gun on you in Macy’s—the incident that prompted you to bring in the Rangers. That human didn’t get the other portion of his fee because he failed. The thirty thousand dollars meant for the duo was used to purchase the C-4 that blew up your lake house.”
Morgan couldn’t stand the wait. “What about Irvin? Was he involved?”
Brook’s knuckles went white as she gripped the chair back. “We weren’t able to get anything out of Foster about an accomplice or who the second figure was that the duo mentioned in the beginning. He says he compelled the humans to believe there were two of them.”
There was no accomplice? Brook had made him question everyone he trusted and loved only to discover the culprit was a sore loser Morgan barely knew?
But there were things that didn’t add up—facts Brook had mentioned over the past few days. “How did Foster know I’d be at the mall that first day or that I wasn’t at home the night the lake house blew up? I thought you said someone would have had to know my schedule.”
; Brook pried open pursed lips. “Foster was at the charity function. And he also compelled a neighbor to notify him of your movements.”
Was that all it was? A neighbor tattling on him?
“And the fire inspector?” Morgan asked. “That was some high-level compulsion. Is Foster really that good?”
“Foster is also responsible for the inspector’s brainwashing and trigger word, yes.”
Brook’s tight answer implied she wasn’t pleased to admit she was wrong. Yet…she hadn’t admitted it. She merely stated facts as she’d learned them.
“So my uncle had nothing to do with this?”
“It does not appear so.”
“And Mira?”
“Foster made no mention of anyone else except the vanilla humans we encountered.”
Morgan stared at her, willing her to apologize for turning his life upside down with her theories—for making him question those he was closest to. Brook stared back.
She got to her feet and swiveled the chair back in place. “I’ll be transporting Foster to the detention facility in Arizona tomorrow. The Coalition will hear the case next month. You’ll be contacted about giving your testimony over the phone within the week.”
Brook walked to the door that hid the useful bowels of the Rangers’ home base from prying eyes. She paused, curling her fingers around the wood and looked back. The soft set of her eyes tightened Morgan’s insides. This was the moment, the one that would make or break him.
“Irvin will be here shortly to take you wherever you want to go. Let us know if the Rangers can be of service in any way in the future, Priest Seaton.”
Brook swung the door wide and then disappeared behind it. Morgan gaped at the wood.
He was Priest Seaton again?
Morgan wished he could blame her formality on the location—the Rangers’ office. But he knew better. She was back to her icy, unapologetic self and it had nothing to do with her job.
When Irvin stepped into the waiting area, Morgan tried to feel relieved. He wasn’t as alone as he’d feared he’d be. His uncle hadn’t plotted to be rid of the competition. The only thing Morgan could feel was gutted, made all the worse because he’d willfully invited the pain.
