He claimed no understanding of women, so he wasn’t about to hurt his brain attempting to figure out one who swung hot and cold, lucid and insane, bold and timid, all within the space of minutes. She’d had an unsettling childhood and possessed a dangerous brain. He’d stick with that.
Stymied in his interrogation, Magnus caught himself stupidly wondering if there would be any place to dance in their next stop. They’d been on the same page then. She’d actually smiled when they’d danced. She had a glorious smile that almost convinced him that she could be normal—under different circumstances.
But the Librarian wasn’t normal and never would be. She didn’t fool him with her nonchalance. Her sister had wanted the lab workers free, and Nadine had performed one of her magic acts.
She had undermined a paranoid general and let his pet engineers free. Didn’t she know that people had died for less?
Beside him, his pixie-haired companion exclaimed in shock. Or maybe disgust. Magnus waited to see what she’d discovered now. The landscape was bleak up in these hills. The general couldn’t very well sneak up behind them, so Magnus wasn’t inclined to panic. Yet.
“The ratfink claims we were living with him and working in his office when we disappeared! He’s describing your car as one his security guard saw cruising by his house before our disappearance. I can’t believe the bold-faced lies! How does he get away with it?” she exclaimed.
“People who lie for a living have no conscience,” Magnus said with a shrug. “The ability to form moral judgment is lodged in an actual part of the brain, and in some people it’s underdeveloped, possibly due to some chemistry imbalance. Lying doesn’t cause them a twinge of concern or even affect lie detector tests. The worst case scenarios are sociopaths.”
“I know that,” she grumbled. “But sociopaths are other people’s fathers. It’s hard to apply that label to someone you’ve known and respected. It requires separating a child’s emotions from an adult’s logic. Give me time to cope. In the meantime, the cops will impound your car now, if they’ve found it.”
“Conan reported it stolen, but we’ve always known it would draw the general’s fire. He’ll know we’re behind your escape. But he’ll have some difficulty proving it to the law with that story.”
Max hoped the cops didn’t mess with his Camaro project too much—or let the general near it. He didn’t want to be responsible for a paranoid terrorist getting his hands on the experimental components.
“Don’t speed,” she whispered unexpectedly. “What happens if the police pull us over?”
“I’d get a ticket, not you.” He slowed down, although he hadn’t been going faster than traffic. That she hadn’t objected to freeway driving spoke of her desperation to reach Vera. “Don’t blow anyone up or get drunk in public places and the cops will never notice you.”
“Humor, har-har,” she muttered, thumbing through his phone. “What if I sent the police an anonymous message essentially telling them that the general is a big fat liar?”
Magnus considered the implications. “They won’t believe an anonymous message without evidence. You’d either have to reveal Vera’s former whereabouts and her fake ID, or you’d have to reveal yourself.”
She grew quiet, and he glanced worriedly in her direction when her fingers stopped tapping the phone. He was still trying to get used to the short hair that revealed her vulnerable nape. He didn’t want her to be vulnerable.
He wanted her to be the mysterious, invincible Librarian who had saved him. He needed to straighten out his head. She was just another confused female—who really did need rescuing.
“I can give them information about me that only I would know,” she said, having given the problem some thought, “to prove the message comes from me. And then I can tell them about Woodstar. Would they look?”
“They might,” he agreed. “But it’s going to be tough convincing them that a retired general is an unmitigated liar. Are you ready to start revealing him for what he is?”
“I wish I knew for certain that he really isn’t protecting the country,” she murmured unhappily. “I believed in him for so long . . . .”
“Look at it this way—do the ends justify the means? Should he be allowed to plow over the rights of every person he comes across in order to achieve whatever nebulous power he thinks he can wield?”
“It’s not nebulous,” she said. “He wields tremendous power. And he really did love Po-po and wants her name to be commemorated by proving that psychic warfare is possible. And if there were enough of us, it might be possible. But there aren’t.”
“So he’s amassing other weapons besides Malcolms, experimental ones,” Magnus concluded.
“He’s building weapons, yes, but they’re military contracts and hardly a secret. It’s just he uses extraordinary means to develop them. He may never prove Po-po’s theory that psychics can be weapons, but we do have uses. He’d love to get his hands on you. He’s convinced your engineering brilliance is abnormal.”
Magnus itched just thinking about it. Adams had made him an offer when he’d hijacked the helicopter. That proved the general was off level by a full bubble. Magnus realized now that he’d come pretty close to being one of the engineers held under duress. His gut burned in a fervent need for retaliation.
“I’m not psychic,” Magnus corrected. “What happens to the people who refuse to be coerced into working for him?” he asked, knowing he probably would have killed the general— if the general hadn’t killed him first.
She clasped her hands around the phone and didn’t look at him. “I don’t know.”
That’s what he’d figured. “As far as I know, no one has come forward to file a complaint.” He left her to consider the implications. He couldn’t force her to turn in the general. She had to do it willingly.
That didn’t prevent him from going after the bastard with any tidbit that she fed him.
“I have to get Vera to safety before I can start digging him out of his mole hole,” she asserted.
Magnus hid his wince. So, he could bait the general now or pray they’d find Vera soon.
“Jo-jo would use Vera against me if he could,” she continued, reinforcing his thoughts. “I surrendered any chance at independence when I gave Vera her freedom. I’m not reneging on that choice now.”
That level of responsibility for another human being prevented him from doing what he knew needed to be done, dammit.
They grabbed lunch at a drive-through, ate it on a pull-out on a bluff along the coast where Nadine could bask in the view. She replaced the geek glasses with the big sunglasses and really did look like a film star. There was no telephone reception out here, so Magnus watched in reluctant appreciation as she paced up and down, exploring every nook and cranny of the overlook. She was wearing the blue capris she’d bought yesterday, with a loose, gauzy orange blouse over a tank top, taunting him with glimpses of curves. She had great legs despite her claim that she never got any exercise.
She’d used some of his cash at one of their gas stops to buy a map. Finding a place out of the wind, she spread it open. “Where is the town where we think Vera might be?”
Magnus pointed at Victorville, on the eastern side of the mountains, near the Mojave. “Odd that she’d end up near the desert where the general hides.”
“Not odd, and the general doesn’t hide there, so quit trying to sneak information. He hid you in one of his bunkers, but it’s not even a main one.” She glared at the map. “California is an impossible state to get around. This is where we’re going, isn’t it?” She pointed to a dot along the coast.
“Yep. Oz is here.” He pointed to another dot up the road from the coast but in mountainous area. “No direct route to the desert from there. We have mud slides on this side of the mountain, snow in winter on the peaks, and fires on the desert side, so finding safe places to build highways is a challenge.”
She sighed and folded the map. “I hope Francesca is waiting for us. I don’t know what
we’ll do if telepathy doesn’t work.”
Magnus gritted his teeth and tried not to remind her that telepathy wasn’t real communication and that the general was the key.
***
Nadine held her breath as they navigated the steep descent from the scrubby bluffs to the coastal highway. She wanted to leap out and examine every wildflower they sped by, all the interesting boulders and rock formations, and take pictures to preserve the ocean view in hopes she could access them later, whatever the future had in store.
Instead, she sat on her hands, bit her tongue, and let Magnus fly past all the fascinations she’d never seen or explored. He was obviously familiar with the terrain and took it for granted. She didn’t mind appearing an idiot and demanding they stop, but she didn’t want to miss any chance to meet Francesca.
She knew she was placing far too much hope on an experiment that had failed numerous times. Vera simply wasn’t a good receptor. They’d come to accept that. But now, it was vital.
She kept her anonymous sunglasses on as they drove through a small town consisting of pricey boutiques and restaurants. Nadine hoped there were grocery stores nearby. She was hungry and tired of fast food.
Magnus had no difficulty in finding the gated community. He handed over his information to the security guards, and they passed him through without question. She breathed a sigh of relief as the gate closed behind them, but the relief was short lived.
She stared in dismay at the mansions they crawled past. Someone had mentioned palaces. That’s exactly what these were. Money temples, the general had called them—conspicuous consumption run amuck. She supposed screen stars hid in here. Oz worked in TV, she remembered.
The nondescript Ford they were in must look like a servant’s vehicle. They circled around until they figured out where the house numbers were hidden. Nadine concealed her gasp as they turned up a drive to a glass and steel castle. If the ground floor garage counted, it towered four stories above the coast. Down here on the street, the view was blocked by other mansions. Up there on the top . . .
“I don’t like this,” Magnus grumbled as they stopped to pick up keys and remotes from a security box to which he’d been given the code. “It’s too conspicuous.”
Nadine agreed, but probably on different levels than he meant. “Hide in plain sight?” she suggested. “Do I have to wear jewels to walk past all those windows?”
He sent her one of those heavy-lidded looks that shot her hormones to all the right places.
“Wear clothing, at least. Wonder how many of the neighbors are voyeurs who scope each other out?” he asked, following her thought and teasing her cluelessness.
“Oh, thanks for that image. Now I’ll have to wear a burka.” She sank deeper in her seat and glared at a second sprawling structure at the end of the drive with a house sitting on top of a second garage. A carriage house?
Magnus keyed the remote and the garage opened on an army of classic cars. “No room at the inn,” he concluded.
“We’ll just pretend we’re the new butler and maid and park at the kitchen door.” She eyed a red Ferrari in awe.
They parked behind a hedge and Nadine carried her Target bag to the side door, hoping Maximus had a key and that they wouldn’t set off any security alarms.
The enormous stainless steel and granite kitchen echoed, striking Nadine as a deserted space station. “I could stand here and pick up the vibrations of the universe,” she said in awe. “May I pitch a tent in the kitchen?”
Magnus issued one of his you’re-nuts snorts, took her arm, and steered her into the next room.
“I’m not sure I trust you with this much space,” he concluded gruffly. “Promise not to bungee jump off the balcony?”
She gazed up at the atrium balcony spilling foliage in the filtered sunlight from the enormous front windows. “Hang glide, maybe?”
He actually laughed at that, which warmed her better than hot chocolate. When Maximus Grandus relaxed, he was awesome.
She halted in the atrium to study a marble statue taller than she was. It adorned a two-story, ceiling-to-floor waterfall fountain. When she realized the statue was a stylized nude couple wrapped around each other, she blushed, and hurried ahead.
Behind her, Max chuckled. “I need to take you to museums?” he called as she took the soaring stairs upward.
“Please,” she said honestly. “Just don’t catch me by surprise like that.”
“With statues or naked?”
She blushed again. “I’ve led a sheltered life,” she replied, aiming for haughty but probably fooling no one.
“So I’ve gathered.” He started opening doors on the second floor. “Bedrooms. Find one that looks unused, I guess.”
She looked for one with a view, settling on one decorated in pale blues, greens, and sand so it brought the outdoors in. It looked as if the decorator had done her job but no one had ever moved in. No personal effects or clothing made this a home. The balcony was a bonus.
Her first night alone—no guards outside the door, no Magnus watching to see that she didn’t take flight.
She wasn’t entirely certain she had any idea how to be alone.
Uneasy with that realization, she peered around the door into the hall to see which room Magnus took—the one across from hers, naturally.
Strangely comforted knowing he was nearby, she emptied her meager belongings into a drawer, set Vera’s pink bunny on the bed, and wished for a bread crumb trail to lead her back to the kitchen.
The security intercom buzzed.
Nadine hurried into the hall, looking for a way to answer it. Magnus appeared, opened a panel cover, and hit one of the many switches behind it. She stuck her tongue out at him. He raised a quizzical eyebrow but told the garbled voice from the security gate to send someone in.
“How did you know where they hid the speaker?” she demanded as they descended the stairs.
“I looked. That panel was the obvious choice. Francesca just arrived. She brought dinner. I hope you like Chinese.”
“Just because she’s of Chinese origin doesn’t mean she’ll bring Chinese.”
“It does when I told Dorrie to send some.” He hit the foyer ahead of her.
“You’re a smartass, Maximus!” she shouted after him.
Giddy with her new freedom and by Francesca’s arrival, Nadine dashed down the rest of the stone stairs to the grandiose foyer. Magnus already had the door open.
No one entered, but in her mind, a sudden image of the general loomed—wearing his uniform, shouting, and looking livid.
Nadine grabbed her temples and sank to her knees.
Eleven
When Nadine fell to her knees, holding her temples, Magnus flung Francesca a suspicious look but kept his hands to himself. He’d learned not to grab La Loca in one of her fits.
Instinctively, he crouched down, shielding her from the intruder. He placed himself in a position to catch her in case she toppled and bit back his curses so he wouldn’t interfere with whatever was happening inside her head.
Utter relief washed over him when she didn’t repeat the seizure routine.
This time, she recovered in seconds, catching his arm to steady herself before she glared up at Francesca.
Magnus had met the helicopter pilot, Dorrie’s cousin, before. She was tall and elegant, wearing her shiny black hair pulled back in a simple cream ribbon matching her silk shirt and slacks. She carried a sack of still-steaming cartons of food, but she maintained an expressionless composure while Magnus helped Nadine to her feet.
Uneasy, but not having a clue about what was happening here, he remained silent and watchful as the two women gauged each other. Even with her hair dyed brown, Nadine was the more colorful of the two in her orange gauze shirt, yellow tank top, and blue jean capris. She was shorter than Francesca and less sure of herself—and still she balled her fingers into her fists and stuck her chin out pugnaciously.
“What did you do that for?” Nadine demanded.
Francesca shrugged. “That creep has been in my head like that ever since my cousin Bo encountered him. If you were raised by that bastard, we can’t trust you.”
Catching the gist of the argument and not particularly wanting to hear more craziness, Magnus swiped the food from Francesca’s hand and stomped toward the kitchen. “Whatever you just did, cut it out. Nadine was the one who helped me and Bo out of that hole, and you’re the one who can leave if you won’t trust her.”
He surprised himself in saying that. He liked to remain objective, but his rescuer complex had kicked in. He’d seen Nadine’s genuine fear and distress and heard her stories. She was the victim here.
“I need that man out of my head,” Francesca insisted without an ounce of remorse. “Why aren’t we going after him instead of some kid who is probably playing hooky to go to the beach with her boyfriend?”
Nadine halted so fast that Magnus hadn’t realized she wasn’t still behind him until he heard her speak.
“Vera is not just a kid. She’s an exceptionally intelligent and motivated teacher who understands people far better than I ever will. She’s lived under that man’s thumb most of her life and is terrified of him. She will not do anything to endanger me or to reveal herself to the general. If she’s disappeared, it’s because she felt threatened.”
Magnus raised an admiring eyebrow as Nadine stalked past him, into the kitchen. Maybe she didn’t precisely need rescuing—just a keeper.
He glanced back at Francesca, who didn’t appear properly chastised. “We get the innocent to safety first,” he told her. “That’s proper hostage procedure.”
Nadine began opening cabinets, not acknowledging the hostage comment. Magnus engaged in a brief stare-off with Dorrie’s pilot cousin. Once upon a time Francesca would have been just his type—ultra chic, mechanically adept, gorgeous, and able to look out for herself.
Diane had been like that, he’d thought, but obviously, his judgment was skewed. Francesca held no appeal for him now. Apparently, his new type was blatantly crazy and terrified, a stubborn, independent ball of orange fluff. He’d be adopting kittens next.
THE RISK OF LOVE AND MAGIC Page 9
