Aeromancist - The Beginning (Seven Forbidden Arts 2)

“Lann,” Joss said.

Lann knew that Joss had noticed the uncharacteristic rage in him, but the bloodsucker didn’t ask questions as they hurried to the SUV that would take them back to base camp.

Joss helped Clelia into the vehicle before he and Lann followed. Lann kept his eyes on the horizon, just in case the dead fuckers had a back-up team. Maya was behind the wheel.

“Weather forecast?” Joss asked. He wasn’t referring to the temperature or possibility of rain.

“Coast is clear,” Lann said after checking the satellite monitor on his wrist.

Clelia didn’t speak. She regarded him quietly with something like empathy. For her second battle, she’d done great. She was an asset to the team. But he dwelled on another woman. Damn it. He shook his head. He had to clear his mind.

He looked out the window, more to avoid Joss and Clelia’s piercing stares than to admire the Dutch windmills. He fucking hated the Netherlands. Then Joss’s finger was on his bleeding arm, the one the devil of a sorcerer had managed to cut before Lann had made sushi of his heart and fried his ass, and before he could grip Joss’s wrist, the bloodsucker had his finger in his mouth, tasting Lann’s blood.

Joss didn’t possess one of the seven forbidden arts, but he had a gift for telling things about people by tasting their blood. His commander’s eyes widened as he stared at Lann. Lann sneered. It was nobody’s damn business.

In his ground base bedroom, after he’d showered and the team’s onsite doctor, Eve, had stitched him up, Lann dialed the secure number for his butler in Santiago. It was Friday, five days since he’d left Katherine.

Alfonso replied on the first ring. “Sir?”

“Has she been in yet?”

“No, Sir. Not since you called yesterday. Miss has not yet been back to visit the library either.”

Fuck. “I see.” He swallowed, mentally preparing himself for a blow. “Is she seeing anyone?”

“No, Sir.” Good. “There is a man visiting frequently.” Fuck. Fuck. “It’s her roommate’s boyfriend.”

“Who?”

“Enrico Prieto.”

“Any messages?”

“Just from your banker, Sir. Miss returned the money.”

“All of it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Why the hell did she have to be so hardheaded? She needn’t struggle. He had more than enough to ensure she led a comfortable life.

“Anything else Sir needs me to do?” Alfonso asked when the silence stretched.

They had two more stakeouts lined up before this mission was over. It had turned out dirtier and longer than what they’d expected.

“Book me a flight to Santiago in two weeks’ time.” Lann hung up and threw the phone on the bed.

He had no right to do this. He had no business going back and interfering in her life. He’d just make sure she was all right, and then he’d back off. No. If he saw her, he wasn’t going to back off, and he couldn’t do that to her again. He’d just go and take care of the money. Then he’d get the hell out of Santiago and let her be happy.

~ THE END ~