He could see traces of panic in his eyes as he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror of the cheap motel room. The tattoos around the long scar on his side tingled as he ran his hand over the exposed skin. Bruises were beginning to form on his shoulders and on his chest, where Leticia’s blow had hit him, but that was a small price to pay for being alive and kicking.
He sighed and splashed some cold water on his face to calm himself down. After turning off the tap, he pulled the amulet out of his jeans pocket. He didn’t want to go back into the cramped bedroom where Bas had been pacing practically from the moment they’d arrived. If he were a cat, he’d be lashing his tail and hissing at Ty in a hyped state of annoyance and agitation. As it was, he was merely relegating his displeasure verbally, and rather explicitly.
Both of them were beyond exhausted and more than a little riled up. Ty was still unsteady on his feet, the aftershocks of him coming too close to being splattered amidst the decorative pools and walkways of the Venetian’s courtyard coursing through his body. In one terrifying moment he’d plummeted, the air whooshing past him, and in the next, he’d been bounced back upward on an invisible trampoline. It was pure luck no one had chanced to see it, especially the part when Bas managed to grab him by the hand mid-flight as Ty was flung upwards, and the impact had sent them both rolling on the windswept rooftop.
After, they’d barely managed to get away before the police swarmed the casino and put the hotel on lockdown. And Bas had scarcely been able to cast a simple spell to lift the barrier gate and get the Chevy out of the underground parking lot.
Both of them were too wired to sleep. While it seemed no one had tailed them, they weren’t completely out of danger.
Ty absently traced his thumb over the intricate design on the amulet’s surface. His thoughts kept circling back to the events of the evening in an endless loop of helpless frustration. How could he have been so blindly stupid not to realize he was being duped? How could he not have seen it wasn’t really Cary he was following? Guise magic required huge effort; to maintain the illusion so long and so well was testimony enough to Leticia’s power. But he should have recognized the ruse for what it was. It was his fault Cary was currently being held captive by a mafioso and his sorceress sister. A very pissed off mafioso and sorceress. It was his fault for getting Cary involved in all of this in the first place, for agreeing to team up. For all he knew, Cary was already—
No. He refused to acknowledge that possibility. There was still hope, and he wouldn’t just walk away. His old self would have, but he could no longer deny that he was changed. He wasn’t the same person who had walked into the Incredible Mr. Mars’ dressing room what felt like ages ago.
“We have to get Cary,” he said, coming out of the bathroom and cutting off Bas’s solo rant mid-sentence.
Sebastian, whose trajectory had just reached the entry door, turned to look at Ty as if he’d suddenly sprouted wings—with horns and hooves for good measure.
“Are you insane?” he demanded.
“We can’t just leave him.”
“You got what you wanted,” Bas pointed out. “He’s a sweet kid and all, but is he worth sticking your neck out for? Giordano doesn’t give a crap about him, but he sure as hell won’t let you go with a slap on the wrist.”
Ty looked at the amulet clutched in his hand. The etching on its surface had left faint indentations in the skin. They’d fade in a few moments, without any trace of ever having been there. But other things weren’t as easily dismissed. Things like betrayal. Rejection. Love. All the things he’d sworn not to be hurt by again. Their marks were permanent, and their scars cut too deep.
After the falling-out with Leland, he’d felt so lost. Leland Bernard had been his mentor for more than ten years, the only man who’d come close to being a father to him. He’d been the only one who had taken care of him, who had exhibited any sort of concern for his well-being. His casual dismissal, after Ty had believed there was a real attachment between them, had hurt more than anything.
The thought of Cary experiencing that same pain was more unbearable than the thought of Cary getting killed. Somehow the promise of a hefty fee and the satisfaction of rubbing Giordano’s nose in his failure paled in comparison.
He opened his mouth, without any clear idea of how he was going to answer Bas, but was interrupted by his phone loudly vibrating on the nightstand. Ty snatched it up, having recognized the number.
“What do you want, AJ?”
“What, no ‘hello,’ no ‘how’s it going,’ just straight up ‘what do you want’?” AJ complained in a deliberately whiny tone of voice.
“I’m really not in the mood,” Ty said curtly.
“Okay, fine, be like that. Oh, and by the way, next time you get yourself involved with organized crime, kindly leave me out of it. It’s getting kinda old.”
Ty sat down on the edge of the bed. “What do you mean?” he asked, although he already had a pretty good idea where this was going.
“I just got a call from your buddy Tony Giordano,” AJ said, abandoning his simpering. “He made it clear in no uncertain terms that he wants to make an exchange. The “item” for your “associate” and your ring. Do I want to know what he’s talking about?”
“Not really,” Ty muttered. He glanced at Bas, who was listening in on the conversation, and made a face. Getting his ring back was what he’d wanted all along, but as valuable as it was, it wasn’t enough of an incentive to risk open confrontation. But the promise of the ring coupled with the prospect of saving Cary… It seemed Giordano was aware of Ty’s partiality toward Cary and was betting on capturing his attention this way. It rankled that his feelings must have been that transparent. Exposing his weaknesses was a bad idea. Having those weaknesses in the first place was a slippery slope that led to…well, precisely this kind of scrape. “When and where?”
There was some rustling, as if AJ was shuffling papers around his desk. “Tomorrow night. At a cabin he has on Lake Tahoe. Look, I don’t know what you got yourself into, but I gotta remind you that my client is waiting for that amulet. If you have it—and I suspect you do—I suggest delivering it to him and getting the fuck out of Dodge.”
“That’s mighty daring of you,” Ty said. “What makes you think Tony won’t come looking for you if I don’t show up?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ve already set up an alternative base of operations, as it were. And I really should be billing you for the cost of moving all my stuff on a moment’s notice,” AJ complained. “You have no compassion for my poor nerves.”
Bas snorted loudly, struggling to suppress his laughter. Ty waived at him to be quiet.
“Listen to me, AJ. I’m afraid your client is bound to be disappointed. And since you’re already involved, I’m gonna need you to deliver a message back to Giordano. Ain’t no way in hell I’m meeting him on his own turf. You tell him to meet me at ten PM tomorrow at a place of my choosing if he wants his precious ‘item’ so badly. I’ll text you the coordinates.”
He disconnected the call before AJ had a chance to respond and quickly typed a text. Once he was sure it went through, he took out the battery and threw it on the nightstand.
The sound of Bas clearing his throat was overwhelmingly loud in the sudden silence.
“That’s…gutsy,” he observed. “What makes you think Giordano would agree to any of it? Aren’t you worried he’ll just say ‘screw it,’ get rid of the kid, and take his sweet time hunting you down?”
Ty was worried. In fact, he was scared out of his mind. But if he wanted to have any sort of chance to see this thing through and keep both himself and Cary alive, he had to raise the stakes and make Tony come to him instead of the other way around.
“I have what he wants, so I have the upper hand here,” Ty said with a conviction he wasn’t feeling. “Besides, after the way I stole it right in front of his buddies, he’ll do anything to get back at me. He’s cocky enough to believe he’ll be able to do it anywhere
. He’ll just make sure to pack enough firepower.”
“Not to mention his sister,” Bas said. “That one’s more dangerous than a truckload of trained operatives with semiautomatics.”
“Encouraging as always.”
“No, really. You’re not seriously considering going…wherever it is you think you’re going, are you?” Bas sat down on one of the twin beds the room offered. His expensive suit was rumpled and covered in dust, and his hair was sticking out in a crazed imitation of a magpie’s nest. “AJ may believe Giordano will honor a deal, but you and I know better. The real deal here is—‘I’m gonna kill you, take your magical toys, and bury you under a pine tree’.”
“I know,” Ty said. He slipped the amulet back in his pocket and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Maybe it was the exhaustion forcing him into bad decisions. He needed to get at least a couple of hours of sleep to be able to think clearly.
“And not to put a damper on things, but your lover boy might be dead already,” Bas pointed out, none too gently.
“I know,” Ty repeated.
Bas looked him in the eye for a long moment and then sighed and shook his head. “You’re going to do this anyway.”
“Yep.” He got up and took his jacket off.
“My, my, how the mighty have fallen,” Bas said. He leaned back on his elbows on the bed, watching Ty with half-hooded eyes. “Never thought I’d see you succumb to foolish heroics and all that self-sacrificing for love nonsense.”
“Shut up,” Ty said halfheartedly. “Nobody’s sacrificing anything. The goal is getting us both out alive.”
He didn’t like being put in a corner. Whatever he’d said, it was Giordano who had the advantage, with him holding a live hostage—and Cary was still alive. Ty refused to think otherwise.
“I’m sorry I can’t drop you back at San Francisco,” he said, turning and looking down at Bas. “I don’t have time to make the round trip and set things up by tomorrow night. Giordano will most likely want to arrive at the rendezvous point ahead of time as well, to make his own arrangements. You got your winnings from the casino, right?”
Sebastian nodded. “What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Get some rest, for starters.” Ty sighed and kicked off his shoes before sprawling on the bed.
“That woman is going to fry you alive if you try going in there with any kind of magic.” Bas was apparently unwilling to let the subject drop. “She’s a damn strong one. And your dabbling is frankly no match—”
“I’m well aware of that,” Ty snapped.
His relationship with magic had always been a fickle one. There was no question he got by with what he had, but it was never enough. It certainly hadn’t been enough for Leland, who hadn’t bothered hiding his disappointment with his student’s progress. It was baffling to Ty why his mentor had bothered with him in the first place when it must have been apparent, even at an early age, that he wasn’t destined to become a great mage. He’d never asked, and it’d seemed pointless after they parted ways.
So yes, Ty was very much aware of his shortcomings, and he didn’t need Sebastian reminding him of them. He had to focus on his tactical advantages, few as they might be.
“I’m simply pointing out that going up against someone like that with no one to back you up is unwise, darling,” Bas said. He sat up and began to unlace his shoes.
Ty closed his eyes for a moment as he digested that. He must have been too tired to think, because Bas couldn’t possibly mean what he thought he meant.
“You’re not suggesting going with me?” he asked incredulously.
“Why not?”
“Why not? Weren’t you the one calling me crazy for wanting to rescue my—” he fumbled for the right word for a second and settled for “—friend.”
“Friend,” Bas repeated meaningfully and wiggled his eyebrows as he pulled his shoes off.
“Do you want me to spell out a fucking love letter? We all get what I mean. And it doesn’t negate the point—which is you being suddenly willing to put your ass on the line after trying to talk me out of doing the same.”
“God, you’re cranky when you’re tired.” Bas rolled his eyes and took his suit jacket off before settling down on the comforter. “Okay, fine. While I do think it’s a terrible idea, your chances of coming out of this alive would be much better if somebody were there to help you. And, I suppose, well, you are my friend. And by ‘friend’ I don’t mean being besotted with your pretty face, mind you.”
Ty let that last comment slide.
“I can’t offer you anything in return, though,” he said, still reluctant to agree. Him risking his own skin was one thing; putting Sebastian in harm’s way was another matter entirely, even if he was volunteering of his own free will. Especially if he was volunteering. A deal was a deal. A favor wasn’t something he knew how to accept.
“You’ve got that Fae bargaining streak ingrained too deeply,” Bas observed enigmatically. He divested himself of the rest of his clothing before diving under the sheets. “I’ve got the money in casino chips. There’s hardly anything else I could ask for. But if it bothers you that much, how about you owing me a favor?”
“Can do.” Ty lowered his head on the pillow. His thoughts were too jumbled to form a more coherent solution anyway, and they had to make an early start tomorrow. He doubted he’d be able to sleep with so much worry gnawing at his heart, but he must have been more tired than he thought, because he was fast asleep moments after closing his eyes.
Chapter Seventeen
THE COMING TO was a lot more painful this time around, the various aches having nothing to do with a cramped trunk ride. The cool concrete was rough under his cheek, and his hands were numb in the tight bonds.
Cary moaned and rolled over onto his other side, wincing as sore muscles and scraped knuckles protested the exertion. He was once again plunged into darkness, with no idea of how much time had passed since Rossi had left him. He’d passed out at some point during the beating when his head accidentally hit the hard wall. The bump there was throbbing, but thankfully, he had a thick enough skull. Tony would have probably chewed Rossi’s head off if he’d killed Cary, especially after his admonition to be careful. But that was poor consolation.
Not knowing how long he’d been out was quickly getting old. He didn’t have much time to waste. Whether Tony succeeded in finding Ty (even if Cary was still boggled by the possibility of him being alive) or gave up on the idea of reaching him, Cary was better off hightailing it out of there. He didn’t want to be a pawn in anyone’s games—pawns being the most expendable pieces on the board. He had no illusions as to his chances of survival once Tony got what he wanted. Cary had already proved himself a pesky nuisance. Giordano wouldn’t want a repetition of the Vegas fiasco, when it was so much simpler to make Cary Westfield disappear entirely after he got what he wanted from Ty.
There was, of course, another possibility, one that was far more probable. Ty could simply turn down Tony’s offer, or fail to respond to it at all. If Ty was, in fact, alive and on the run, he’d most likely lie low somewhere till the shitstorm blew over.
As much as Cary wanted to believe his tentative connection with Ty had meant something more to the other man than a simple business partnership with side perks, he couldn’t delude himself into thinking Ty would give up something so valuable—not to mention risk his life in the process—to rescue him.
Cary longed to see Ty again, to make sure with his own eyes that he was truly alive and well, but he didn’t intend to wait on either his or Giordano’s mercy. He had to escape, and he could only count on himself to do that.
With an effort, Cary rolled onto his back, groaning. Earlier, he’d considered screaming for help, but now he wanted to draw as little attention to himself as possible.
Other than the bump on his head and a bloodied lip, it didn’t seem like he’d sustained any serious injuries. His ribs felt bruised, but he could breathe and move freely enough, and n
othing felt broken. Now all he had to do was get the binds off his hands.
He got to his feet, swaying a little. His body was sore, and when he attempted to break the zip tie by swinging his arms down sharply and pulling sideways, like he’d intended to do before the Giordanos showed up, he couldn’t quite gather enough strength needed to pull the plastic apart. After a few tries his hands hurt like crazy, and all he managed to show for his efforts was newly scraped skin.
Damn. This wasn’t going to work—at least not until he had the chance to rest his hands a bit, and he couldn’t waste any more time.
Cary sat down again. There was another option, a more cumbersome one. But fuck it, it wasn’t like he could wait for a miraculous rescue.
He untied the laces of his dress shoes with both hands, tied the laces together, and then secured the resulting string around the right shoe toe with a bowline knot. The trickiest part was getting the loose end of the string inside the zip tie ring, between his wrists. There wasn’t enough light to see what he was doing, and the bonds were almost too tight to accommodate even something as thin as a shoelace, but eventually he succeeded, using his fingers and teeth. He then tied the string around the toe of the other shoe much in the same fashion.
He moved his feet experimentally in a seesaw movement, testing the knots. The shoelace wasn’t nearly as long as he’d have liked, encumbering the movement, but it still created a friction saw that tugged forcefully at the zip tie. With a renewed determination, Cary propped himself against the wall and moved his legs as hard and as fast as he could, holding them just above the floor.
When the zip tie snapped, it came almost as a surprise. Cary bit back a cry of triumph and paused, waiting out the tingling sensation as the blood flowed back into his fingertips. When he was sure he’d regained full control of his hands, he untied the string and laced up his shoes again, fumbling gracelessly in the darkness. He could hardly risk his footwear falling off at the wrong moment.
He got up slowly, using the wall as support. With the urgency to get his hands free gone, his head felt like it was going to explode, and his back ached as if he was an arthritic old man who’d lost his cane. Cary hoped he didn’t have a concussion; running off into the night with his head spinning was hardly going to take him far. He hobbled in the general direction of the stairs. The light that had come under the door earlier was much fainter now, almost nonexistent. It must be nighttime. That would work in his favor, once he managed to extricate himself from his makeshift prison.
A Touch of Magic Page 14
