by Alisa Woods
Ever was nodding. “I may not have known the details, but I already knew what kind of man you are, Agent Walker.”
“Maybe.” But he smiled. “All that’s to tell you that I know the kind of people who belong in jail, Ms. Strange—and it’s not you. Magick is dangerous. Accidents happen. And there are plenty of evil and dangerous people in the world who need to be caught and incarcerated where they can’t hurt anyone anymore. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re one of them.”
Her smile slowly grew. “Life advice from an incubus.”
“You could do worse.” The air was getting dangerously thick again. The way she was looking at him was inviting a kiss. He needed to shut that down right now. “It should be obvious, but I’ll say it anyway. I don’t date, Ms. Strange, but especially not anyone with even a trace of magick. It’s dangerous. For both of us.”
Understanding lit her eyes. “The non-magick brothels. You’re, um, a regular client.”
He laughed a little, and it felt good. “Yeah, I guess you saw that.”
She frowned. “Do they know?”
His humor died. “No. Which is why I don’t form attachments. Wouldn’t be right.” At her skeptical look, he added, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I long ago accepted that a normal life—wife, kids, a house—was something other people did. Not me.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t scold him or try to talk him out of it, like his partner Arrow was constantly doing. Instead, she just said, “Yeah. I know what you mean.” Before he could object to that, she put on a forced smile. “We should probably head up. It’s late. And didn’t you have to check in?”
“Um—”
But she was already halfway out of the car.
He scrambled to come around and catch up as she strode toward her personal elevator to her penthouse apartment. The shiny brass trim and marble flooring quickly reminded him that they came from different worlds. Even if there wasn’t an ocean of Do Not Touch separating them, what would a high-class witch like her want with an ex-street-kid like him? Even if he’d cleaned up when he joined the bureau, they would always be miles apart in every real way. Yet it nagged at him that she thought she was like him—on the negative side. The part where he could never be with someone. At least for him, it was only a restriction on magickal lovers—he could find his release and a bit of companionship in the non-magickal brothels. She seemed to think sex was off limits for her—so, why was she nearly kissing him in his car? And why was he still obsessing about who she would and would not have sex with during the entire awkward elevator ride up?
Get a fucking grip, Zane.
Ever Strange’s sex life would never be any of his business.
Chapter Twelve
For a brief, shining moment, Ever thought she was free.
Then it turned out—like Agent Walker’s glamour—it had only been an illusion.
What he said, of course, was true. When she killed Finn, in that incandescent moment when she was unexpectedly making love to a man she loved, it was an accident. The whole thing was accidental. They were supposed to study that night—instead, they talked. About her mom’s death. About the responsibility of running the family empire in her mother’s stead. About the ridiculous string of meaningless relationships she’d used to fill the hole in her heart. Finn had been there, through it all, holding her at the funeral, helping her not fail her classes even though she was grieving and exhausted… and somehow she’d never seen the love shining in his eyes until that night. Then love was all she could see—his and hers and the love they were suddenly making right there in the library.
And then she killed him.
Her fucking magick had surged like it always did when she had sex, only this time was different in every way—she was in love, and suddenly a world of possibilities had opened up. She could have a life with Finn. They would make a new family. On the eve of their graduation from college, suddenly, it wasn’t just about exams and the family corporation and duty and history and magickal responsibilities. It was about love. And they were going to make it together.
Only her love killed him. Chaos magick surged up and snuffed the life out of him… and killed all hope for her to have that kind of life. The kind Zane described. A family. A home. She’d never been normal—her magick had always been recklessly strong, something she’d had to zealously control—but that night, she didn’t just lose Finn. She lost her chance at a “normal life,” just like Agent Walker. That would always be something other people did, not her.
The elevator dinged their arrival at her apartment.
She stared blankly at the open doorway, momentarily forgetting why they were even here.
“You okay?” Zane asked. The kind, concerned expression on his face stirred a violent aching inside her. Because, for that brief moment, she’d foolishly thought she could have more. With him. The only man she’d ever met who was powerful enough in magick—in his very nature—that she couldn’t kill him.
But he was right—normal wasn’t for the likes of them.
“I’m just tired.” She brushed past him. It wasn’t a lie. She was exhausted. The last two days had been terrifying and emotionally wrenching. She didn’t have a death wish—she’d just been impulsively seeking ways to replace that feeling of living. And she needed to stop that. Her father was still missing, and Willow had been taken by Pennies. Ever had no energy to waste on frivolous things like the blissed-out feeling of being in Zane’s arms, his lips pressed to her skin, saving his life with her magick. That moment was all they would have—really, all she would have because he apparently found the whole thing horrifying.
She sighed as Salem came trotting around the corner to greet them.
Why is the toadstool here? her cat mentally grumbled. Are you in heat? I do wish not to hear your yowlings. For Zane, she had only a hiss.
“Is your cat always this obnoxious?” he asked, a laugh in his eyes.
Oh, crap—she forgot he could hear Salem’s thoughts. “Relentlessly.” To her possessed cat, she said, “Just chill, all right? Zane’s here to…” She flicked a look to him. Would he just drop her off and leave? “Um… check in with his boss.” Then her brain fog cleared. “Do you think they were able to stop Pennies from escaping the yard?”
The humor evaporated from Zane’s face. “Let’s find out.” He glanced around—they were still in the entryway. “Do you have a laptop I can use to call in?
She did, but it was in her bedroom. Ugh. “I’ll get it. Just ignore Salem and make yourself at home.” Then she cringed at her wording as she hustled past the kitchen and great room and down the hall to her bedroom. Why did everything suddenly feel awkward? Oh, right. She’d let the hot FBI incubus agent drain her and then told him she found him hot, but he wasn’t interested, and now everything was grindingly embarrassing. She stabbed the button to turn on the lights in her room a little more aggressively than needed. Pull it together! she chastised herself. Then she spent a full two minutes tearing her bedroom apart before remembering she’d left her laptop in her backpack… in Zane’s apartment. Fuck! She was catching no breaks with this.
“Zane!” she called out. “You’ll have to come back here.” She turned on her desktop, which she hardly ever used, while she waited for him.
A moment later, he poked his head into her bedroom, staying at the door. Wary. Did he think she would jump him? A nervous incubus? Okay, that almost made her choke on a laugh.
She physically wiped the smile off her face and shrugged. “Laptop’s at your place, remember?” Her desktop was almost booted up.
He relaxed and came into the room.
Salem stalked in behind him. The tall one does not adequately feed me. But she didn’t mean Zane.
“Isn’t Nia supposed to be here taking care of you?” Ever should probably check in with her bodyguard/friend—last they spoke was just prior to the operation at the rail yard, which Nia was firmly against—but she’d left her phone at Zane’s apartment too. Nia would not
be pleased.
The tall one has abandoned me. Salem rumbled a growl as she jumped up on Ever’s bed, which was covered with a white bedspread and would soon be covered in black cat hair. Perhaps I will relieve myself of this quarrelsome hairball here in your bed. Would serve to prevent your licentiousness as well.
Zane looked like he was in pain from holding in a laugh.
Ever scowled at the cat. “Don’t you even.”
Salem just kneaded the surface of the bed. Threateningly. I have needs.
“You have attitude.” Ever pulled out the chair to her desk and gestured Zane into it. “Just ignore her.”
He grinned then got busy pulling up that special access video line to the FBI field office downtown. It didn’t take long for Special Agent in Charge Burrows’ face to show in the chat window.
Her steely anger heated the screen. “Walker. What’s your status?” She flicked a look over Zane’s shoulder, where Ever was just in range for the camera.
“Returned Ms. Strange to her apartment,” he said quickly. “Checking in to see if we know where Pennies is.”
“Not yet.” It was two in the morning yet Burrow’s white-streaked midnight hair was perfectly coiffed. The woman exuded power; Ever wondered what her Talent was. “We locked down the yard, but Pennies and his crew seem to have slipped out. Could be on foot, or they had some kind of transport waiting besides the vehicles they arrived in, but my bet is they hopped a train. We analyzed the audio from your mics and the last series of commands given by the CTC. Three trains departed the yard before we could shut it down. One going downstate to another yard; one headed to Indiana; and the last going to Underwood Correctional.”
“The prison?” Zane’s eyes narrowed. “That’s strange.”
“Apparently, they have regular train service due to the prison labor they command at Underwood. They have the adept inmates doing low-level alchemy for strengthening steel, infusing magick in charms and artifacts, and even conjuring one-use spell scrolls. They move a lot of product. And make a lot of money for the state.” Burrows clearly thought little of that.
“Moving goods and money by the trainload? Perfect for smuggling drugs.” Zane glanced back at Ever. “And maybe people.”
“Which is why I need to know what we’re facing,” Burrows said. “We’ve got teams of our highest level agents headed to each of the destinations and high-altitude drones en route to track and make sure they don’t make a jump off board. But they killed five SWAT-level agents, Walker. I listened to the tapes, but I want to hear it from you—what happened in that control tower?”
Ever bit her lip, wanting to jump to his defense, but it wasn’t her place—and Special Agent in Charge Etta Burrows wasn’t asking her.
“Pennies had a protection spell.” Zane grimaced. “I should have seen that coming. It was his brother, Berzerker—I think he’s the one carrying the spell.”
“Mics confirmed that,” she said. “Continue.”
“His magick is unpredictable and overpowered,” Zane said tightly. “He’s the only one in that room who could have taken down a SWAT team.”
“So he’s our target.” She scowled. “But your Talent is useless against him.”
“Apparently so.”
“I can take him.” Ever’s voice cracked a little—not that she was nervous, more just concerned they wouldn’t take her seriously. By the startled looks on both their faces, she was right. “I can.” She gave Zane a pointed look. “He caught me off guard in the tower, but if I go in knowing who and what I’m after, trust me—I can take him down.”
“We’ll have agents with guns and magick,” Zane said tersely. He seemed pissed she was even suggesting it. “I’m sure we can—”
“You can…” Ever cut him off. “But what about everyone else?” They weren’t keeping their eyes on the prize. “Pennies said he was taking Willow and me to the ‘hospital,’ whatever that is, with the ‘others.’” She turned to Burrows. “Those others have to be the missing people… including my father. And Pennies specifically wanted me. If Zane shows up when the train stops with me in tow—bringing me back as an offering to his boss, maybe?—it’ll throw Pennies off. At least for a minute. Then we can figure out how many people he’s got, maybe avoid a hostage situation. I can take out Berzerker; Zane can handle the rest. No guns. Nobody dies. Including Willow and my father.”
Zane’s look had turned skeptical again—like maybe he thought this was her “death wish” talking. But Burrows was nodding as Ever spoke.
“Meet up with the team at Underwood,” Burrows said to Zane.
He looked aghast. “How are we going to just show up—”
“Figure it out on the way,” Burrows said, sharply. “We’re working against the clock. Not just with whatever hostages Pennies might have, but we’re due for another body drop in a few hours if they stick to schedule. And whatever these drugs are that Pennies was talking about—the ones he expects to change everything—under no circumstances can we let those escape onto the streets. Whatever’s on those trains, we’ve got to stop it. We’ve already got a near epidemic of overdoses on our hands, and the press is ready to fan those flames into an Armageddon. We need to shut this down tonight, Walker. Contact me when you’re en route.” She reached up and swiped off the video chat.
Zane stared for a moment with his mouth open.
“She’s right about the next body drop—” Ever cut off with the sharp look Zane whipped to her.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked, rising up from the computer.
She didn’t need mental magick to know what he was thinking. “I don’t have a death wish, Zane.”
“You sure about that?” He wasn’t outright calling her a liar… but close.
She pulled in a breath. “You and me, we don’t have normal lives, remember? Can’t have it, not like other people. So where does that leave us?”
His brow wrinkled up, but he wasn’t pulling away. And the skepticism was gone. “Sad and lonely?”
She smiled. “I was going to say being heroes, but sure.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I thought you were tired.”
“Well, I’m not sleeping now.” She tilted her head to the door. “Are we going to try to save some people, or what?”
His smile grew. He held his hand out to the door of her bedroom for her to go first.
Salem leaped from the bed and dashed in front of her feet, nearly tripping her. What about my feedings? She mewled in protest.
“You better hope Nia comes back soon.” Ever had to dance around the panicking cat, but she reached the entranceway without tripping.
“I could take care of that thing, if you’d like,” Zane said as she stepped into her private elevator.
He didn’t mean giving Salem cat crunchies. And being a powerful incubus probably did mean he could absorb whatever chaos magick might be released by liberating Madeline Bequillart from her furry prison. “Do you really want a sexually frustrated 17th-century witch-cat’s fantasies in your head?”
“Good point.” The smile on his face was the most light-hearted she’d ever seen on him. Almost boyish. Like they were on an adventure. Together. It felt good, even if this partnership couldn’t turn into something more, the way she had briefly hoped. His smile tempered as the elevator dropped. “A normal life definitely isn’t for me. But maybe later you can tell me why you think it’s not for you, either.”
“I did tell you.” And she really didn’t want to go into it again.
“You can’t let one accident rule your life.”
“Sure I can.” But she gave him a softer look than those sharp words delivered. “I just want to get my father home safe. Then you can give me all the incubus life advice you want.”
He smiled sweetly, so sweet it made her hurt inside a little. “Deal.”
She looked away from that smile. “Okay. Let’s go stop some bad guys.”
Chapter Thirteen
The warden of Underwood Correc
tional was a powerful wizard.
Zane could taste at least three Talents on him—electrical field manipulation, heat field magick, and a strange affinity for rare-metal alchemy—and the man’s power was considerable, both in magick and the position he held. Probably necessary to command the respect of inmates and guards alike. Bram Thacker kept some of the most dangerous adepts in the state locked up—Zane could forgive him for having the personality of a cardboard box.
“This is the train depot,” Thacker said, stiffly. “When the train arrives, my staff unloads the raw materials necessary for the Inmate Enterprise Program. Once that task is complete, they load the finished goods ready for shipping. They have been briefed on your operation.” A dozen crates were stacked at the end of the warehouse-styled room, near the edge that dropped off into train tracks. The room was enclosed, sheltered from the Chicago weather, but roll-up doors at each end were clearly designed to open when the train arrived.
“What kind of goods do the prisoners make?” Ever asked, her expression open and guileless. Did she understand how much of a racket prison labor was? How the state literally drained the magick from inmates to fill the government’s coffers? Zane’s time in the FBI—on the justice side of the equation—didn’t erase that period when he was one of the powerless and understood how easily the powerful took from those they could.
Thacker continued his stiff-legged stride through the train receiving dock. The station was attached to the south side of the prison compound, outside the razor-wired fence. Burrows and her FBI SWAT team remained on the other side of a series of locked doors that separated the dock from the prison complex, on call should Zane and Ever’s plan to gain Pennies’ cooperation fail. Outside the prison itself, as well as further down the tracks, were two more teams ready to apprehend Pennies—no matter what, the cartel boss would not be escaping today, not once he arrived on the train. That assumed he and his men—and their hostage, the charmer Willow—were actually on board. Drone surveillance had been inconclusive, but the other two trains that had left the rail yard had been apprehended with no escapee drug runners. And no sign of the drugs Pennies had promised would change the world.