“You did more than anyone could ask. You bought more than enough time for Cornelius to deploy his iron pan and for Rynda to escape.”
“Cornelius was trying to make friends with Zeus. Rynda was in shock.”
He didn’t say anything, but the darkness in his eyes turned deeper.
“Rogan, I’m in one piece. More importantly, the kids are okay.”
“If Cornelius had walked up and brained that bastard while you held him, we would be having an entirely different conversation. Neither of them had the presence of mind to pick up a weapon or run away.”
“You can’t blame Cornelius. He was fascinated with the cat. It was a compulsion, Rogan. He doesn’t think the same way we do and he stepped up in the end when it counted.”
“You need better backup.”
What I needed was someone to teach me the ins and outs of my magic. Truthseekers were rare and they guarded their secrets. I was practicing, but I’ve barely begun to scratch the surface.
“Vincent’s mind was hexed. It felt familiar. I think it’s the same kind of wall I put into Augustine.”
A week ago Victoria Tremaine had zeroed in on Augustine, the Prime who owned the large investigative firm that held the mortgage on our business. Augustine had helped me to save a little girl from slow death by arranging for me to pry open her kidnapper’s mind. Victoria had come to find out the identity of that truthseeker. To keep Augustine intact and to save myself, I’d put a wall in Augustine’s mind. It was a ruse, a fake hex, but it had looked real enough and there was no way to find out if it was false unless Victoria actually attacked Augustine. She decided not to risk it.
“Was it false?” Rogan asked.
“No. The one in Vincent’s mind was real.”
“Better backup,” Rogan repeated, nodding to himself. “Someone trained. Someone who will put your safety first.”
“Like who?”
“Like me.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that from now on I’ll come with you. Just like before.”
“Connor . . .”
He took my hand and squeezed it with his strong fingers. His voice was ragged. “I should’ve been there. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. You could’ve died. It scares the hell out of me.”
I squeezed his hand back. “I didn’t die.”
He held my hand.
“Where were you?” I asked.
“Bug found one of the cars exiting a rural road. He couldn’t see the license plate, but he swore it was the same vehicle. I took a few people and went to check it out.”
He thought Brian might have been held somewhere on that road. “Any luck?”
“There are five ranches on that road. He could be at any one of them, assuming that’s where they dropped him off. It’s connected to the conspiracy, so the trail will be well hidden.”
“What could be in that file?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “But if it exists in Rynda’s computers, Bug will find it.”
“Bernard would find it faster.”
“Fine. They can look for it together. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“I’m not upset that you weren’t there. I was doing my job. I don’t blame you for anything, Connor. Except not telling me that you had a lead. That wasn’t cool.” I lowered my voice, trying to match his. “When you have a lead, I want to know about it. Not eventually, not when it’s convenient, but immediately.”
He didn’t rise to the bait. Apparently, he was determined to blame himself.
“So, are we still on tonight? For our dinner?” I asked.
“Hell, yes. We’re on for tonight. We’re on for tomorrow. We’re on for the foreseeable future. You’re not going anywhere without me.”
And here I thought he was being romantic. “Would you like to wrap me in bubble wrap?”
“If I can find the bulletproof kind.”
“Rogan—”
“I mean it.” He checked the rearview mirror. His eyes narrowed.
I turned to see a massive black Jeep Wrangler closing in behind us. Heavily modified, it sat high on a lift and oversize tires. Custom bumper, light bar, and a grille made to look like fangs with a big M in the middle. The Jeep looked ready to bite our bumper.
I reached for the glove compartment and pulled out my Baby Desert Eagle. I’d bummed some ammo from Rogan’s guys.
The Jeep flashed his lights at us.
“Someone you know?”
“House Madero. Probably Dave Madero.” Rogan’s gaze gained dangerous intensity. He was calculating something in his head.
“Why is he flashing his lights?”
“He’s warning us that he’s about to use an EMP cannon.” Rogan pressed a button on his steering wheel. “Rivera?”
“Major?” Rivera’s voice said from the speakers.
“Drive on without me. I have something to take care of.”
“Yes, sir.”
Rogan took the Kempwood Drive exit. The Jeep followed.
“We’re not running?”
“No. The EMP cannon would stop the vehicle in the middle of the lane. The road is busy. I’m not taking chances with you in the car.”
Rogan shifted into the far right lane. A narrow strip of grass, bordered by a wall of trees that was the edge of Agnes Moffitt Park, rolled by us.
“Madero is a gun for hire,” Rogan said. “He can harden his skin with a layer of magic and he is supernaturally strong. I saw him take a hit from an SUV at sixty miles per hour. It folded around him. Shooting him will do no good. The bullet won’t penetrate, but just to be on the safe side, he also travels with an aegis.”
A protector mage, capable of projecting a shield of magic that would absorb gunfire. Great.
“What did you do to Dave Madero?” I asked.
“He isn’t here for me.”
Victoria Tremaine. Alarm shot through me.
The wall of trees ended. Rogan made a sharp right onto Hammerly Boulevard. The Range Rover jumped the curb, and Rogan drove across the grass onto the wide lawn and brought it to a stop.
The Jeep came to a stop about forty feet behind us. Darkness had fallen, but the lights of the streetlamps flooded the park with light.
The driver door opened and a man stepped out. At least, he was vaguely man-shaped. He had to be seven feet tall. He wore loose black pants and a black T-shirt. Hard muscle slabbed his chest and monstrous shoulders. His enormous arms rippled. His biceps had to be as big as my thighs. His blond hair was buzz cut to a mere memory. He looked like a caricature of a human, an action figure of a bodybuilder come to life.
“Is he real?”
“Yes.” Rogan shut off the Range Rover.
The passenger door opened and a blond woman stepped out. That had to be the aegis.
“If I get close enough, I can shock him.”
“No, you can’t. You spent all of your magic restraining Vincent. You shock him now, you’ll die too.”
Rogan swung the door open.
“Stay in the car.”
“Rogan!”
He jumped out.
Stay in the car, my foot.
I popped the door open, circled the car from the hood, and sighted Dave Madero with my gun.
“Her grandmother wants to speak to her.” Dave Madero sounded the way he looked, his voice deep and unhurried. “Your magic won’t work on me directly, Rogan. Nothing else here will do enough damage. Give the girl to me and we’ll go our separate ways.”
“No.”
“I get it. You don’t want to look bad. But I’m going to get her anyway and take her to her grandmother. She said to make sure she’s alive. She didn’t say in what shape and she didn’t say anything about you. Those things are up to me. You give me the girl, she won’t get roughed up.”
I really wanted to shoot him.
Rogan didn’t answer.
“Suit yourself.”
Madero’s skin bulged, turning a darker, flushed red. He started toward Rogan, slow and confident. Rogan watched him. He shouldn’t have gotten out of the car. He could do terrible things to a human body with his hands, but kicking or punching Dave would do no good. Rogan would just hurt himself. I would do anything to keep him from getting hurt.