“He’s got nothing on you.”
Travis kept his mouth shut and flipped to the next mugshot. The bald charcoal-colored man interested him until he caught his dark soulless eyes and cracked skin with blood oozing from his wounds.
Dammit.
They were hunting for a demon.
“We’re not looking for Taurus.” Peters tapped the page. “I wish we were. Listen, the rest don’t have updated mugshots. I’m trying to get those for you. Mye’s not cooperating with me, though.”
Of course, she wouldn’t.
She hadn’t forgiven him for trying to shoot her last month.
His hand snagged on a paper clip, dislodging the picture attached to it. The date was displayed on the back of the photograph.
Seven years from today’s date.
This couldn’t be a coincidence.
Travis flipped it over, keeping his face impassive while taking in Reginald Rodriguez’s face. The mugshot matched the face in his vision.
He didn’t belong with a cartel.
“Keep the picture with the paper clip.” Peters put the picture back in place. “Seriously, it’s hard enough keeping everything together.”
Travis smirked and removed it again.
Peters’s face turned red and he snatched the photograph out of Travis’s hand. “Quit it.”
“He’s Rodriguez’s kid.” The truth came out before he stopped himself. “She’s got a daughter, too. They’re the spitting images of their parents.”
“He died in a car crash.”
“So I heard.” Travis sifted through the rest of the file, stopping when he couldn’t find any other pictures. “You got a recent photograph of her daughter?”
“Nope. Why?”
“She’s dating Dalara.” His mouth turned rancid at the age difference between them. “They were arguing through the window in Rodriguez’s townhouse last month. If I can talk to her—”
“The daughter’s not involved.”
The agent pitched forward and closed the file. “That’s not the point. I can’t imagine Greene cutting ties with his family after he passed.”
Peters’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Don’t start.”
“Look at us for Christ’s sake.”
The theme for Knight Rider blasted from Peters’s phone. “Give me a sec. That might be the towing company.”
He got out of the car.
Dammit, he did it again.
Someday, they’d have to talk about Lyssa. He couldn’t keep tiptoeing around Peters forever. They both took a hard blow when she died.
Cool air blew against his ear.
Worry about yourself. Lyssa’s voice whispered in his ear. Quit worrying about my little brother.
Easy for her to say.
She didn’t have to deal with his growing neuroticism.
Travis leaned against the window, waiting for Peters to end his call. The man hugged himself while leaning against the Focus. Worry lines crossed his face.
It matched his paranoid inner monologue.
He sat up, holding his temple. Jesus, Mye’s nickname suited Peters. The man never stopped complaining about anything. Even behind closed doors, his brain ran a mile a minute.
This time, he picked out parts of Peters’s conversation and matched it to the vision that invaded his head.
He talked with the director. They’d met earlier that morning in his immaculate conference room. Peters got his case notes from him, but the director left out a few minor details.
Okay, important details.
His eyes flickered at one of Peters’s meticulous questions.
Travis couldn’t make out the words, but they didn’t agree on something. They argued for a few minutes. After a heated discussion, Peters ducked out of the office, holding the file closed.
What was he hiding from him?
“Goddamn him.” Peters slammed the car door shut behind him. “He always calls at the most inopportune times.”
Travis straightened his back until it cracked. “Why didn’t you tell me you met the director this morning?”
His partner’s eyes widened. “I didn’t tell you about that yet.”
“Yeah, I know.” He rubbed his temple again. “That’s the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
Shit. He could hit Peters with a two by four and he’d remain oblivious.
Travis pressed a cold, clammy hand against his forehead, then turned off the radio. He tapped his temple gently a few times.
Then he put a finger to his lips.
“Shit.” Peters reached for his earpiece. “I swear to God, something weird always happens around you.”
“I never wanted this.” He clenched his hands into fists. “Quit bitching. You’ll attract every telepath if you continue bitching.”
Peters punched the steering wheel. “Goddammit. Now I have to find another magic trainer.”
Travis shook his head.
“I don’t suppose Dalara—”
“Training with Mye is scary enough.”
“Dalara won’t file a restraining order against you like Lockhart.”
He bashed his fist against his thigh. Oh, how he loved the hourglass figure on his last magical trainer. Too bad he couldn’t get within one hundred feet of her.
She’d smoke him before the cops said he violated a no contact order.
Peters had a point, though. Dalara wouldn’t file a restraining order on him. He’d just learn his secrets. His dirty secrets. The man had horrible vices and he’d have to stop him from using drugs.
He wasn’t being paid enough to become a drug addiction counselor.
“Training with him will give me nightmares.” Travis cracked his toes against the sole of his boots. “We don’t need any more of Mye’s family issues bleeding into our work.”
“I’m not sure which person in this bunch is freakier.” Peters returned to his laptop. “You with your freakish magic, or her with having every creepy thing known to man on fucking speed dial.”
“At least you’re human.” Travis pushed the laptop away from him. “I have to figure out how to hide my magic from Sanderson.”
Peters held his laptop close. “I’m pretty sure he already knows.” He typed something else on the keypad. “But you might want to call the director. He just called me.”
“Of course, he did.” Travis grabbed his Blackberry. “Why wouldn’t he?”
“Well, here’s the thing. He wants to meet you at the Tethered Mistress.”
He scrunched his eyebrows together. “The director wants to meet me at an exclusive shifter sports bar?”
“Hey, I don’t pick the spots.”
An invisible barrier erupted between them.
Tiptoeing around Mr. Personality grew tedious, but he couldn’t talk about his problems with him. He’d cast them aside. Or make fun of him. Either way, talking with him wouldn’t be constructive.
Well, most of the time, anyway.
“It was okay when you just teleported everywhere.” Peters flinched before reaching for the bag at Travis’s feet again. “It took a while to accept that. Hell, even Mye’s escapades were tolerable. Those became the new normal for me. Then you ruined it with this mind reading crap.”
“I’m not thrilled about it either.” He glowered in his seat. “If I could get rid of my magic, I would. But it’d kill me.”
A bitter smirk came to Peters’s lips. “Well, then you couldn’t teleport everywhere.”
“I’m serious.” Travis yanked on his partner’s tie. “Magic is fused into our life force. If someone stole my powers, I’d die. Just because I loathe magic doesn’t mean I want to commit suicide like Mye. I’m always watching out for those bounty hunters from the Red Coat Society.”
“Well, your rank increased.” Peters slapped Travis’s hand away. “It’s a B rank, last I checked. No worse than the others hunting Mye.” His tone turned curt. “She’s a better Renegade, but crueler.”
How nice. Peters compare
d him to someone who tried keeping themselves off the radar.
Not a grand achievement.
“Anyway…” Travis opened the passenger door, taking in the smoggy air. “What did you talk to the director about?”
“Let’s just say I feel betrayed by his actions.” Peters ended on a huff. “Get going. He’s calling again.”
“He’ll know how you feel if you keep avoiding him.”
Peters shrugged. “You’ll recover. You always do.”
“No, I mean—”
“It’s not like Sanderson isn’t aware of them anyway.” The little man grabbed a set of binoculars from the dashboard and scoped out the area. “I’ll come to terms with it. Just give me time to process everything.”
Right. He’d get right on that.
Before Peters rammed destroying his car down his throat.
He flung the door open, exiting the Focus before Peters started complaining again. This case couldn’t end soon enough. His freaky new powers needed to stay dormant. In fact, if they disappeared completely, Travis wouldn’t have to head to the liquor store before he headed home.
His life became a Charmed episode except his show didn’t end in fifty-nine minutes.
The blasted Blackberry rang.
Travis pressed a hand against his temple. He needed the Professor X helmet. It’d block out everyone’s thoughts from the next parking lot. That’d be a nice change. Then he wouldn’t know his coworker’s apprehension or fear whenever they talked with Sanderson or the director. It got old after a while.
His Blackberry rang again.
Damn. The director was persistent.
He ignored it, returning to his destination: behind the nearest building. It’d shield some of those thoughts until he collected himself. If the director wanted to meet at the Tethered Mistress, fine. He’d meet him. Even if he regretted it.
The man brought this upon himself.
He gathered his power and closed his eyes. Once he activated his magic, the voices faded into the background. His body tingled from the effects of his teleportation spell—a welcome sensation compared to the massive migraine he’d had seconds before. Still, Travis didn’t know which he preferred more: the ability to hear people’s thoughts or teleportation. Both had their disadvantages.
No matter. He’d deal with his problems later.
Their cases always came first.
2
“I have to say, Miss Greene drove well with your partners chasing her, Aviere.”
Aviere Mye—well, Mye now—crossed her arms while laughing at the poor Focus resting in the abandoned gas station. Oh, they chased the Stingray, all right. They ran the poor car into the ground. Of course, a Focus couldn’t keep up with a modified race car, but they’d tried valiantly to keep up with Karyn.
Her partners got an A for effort.
Travis’s driving improved this time.
Still, the smoke coming from the Focus’s engine could have been from a handful of mechanical failures. Her partner had a habit of making things explode. Things just didn’t work well around him. Well, except cell phones. His precious Blackberry hadn’t died yet. Someday, he’d upgrade his outdated device and join everyone else in the twenty-first century.
She snored. Yeah, right.
Hell would freeze over first.
Still, they had trouble keeping up with her toward the end. What if Karyn caused the mechanical failure with those mysterious powers of hers?
It was plausible, considering her background. She worked with cars daily and her coworkers were afraid to piss her off. Besides, her job served as a front for expelling her power whenever her body produced too much electricity.
She could’ve made the Focus’s engine blow without a sweat.
That didn’t explain the weird exchange at the gas pump, though.
Damn it all. For once, Mye should’ve worn her earpiece. Then she would have heard the exchange between them. However, she couldn’t concentrate once Agent Neuro started his Oscar winning performance and whined about his piece of shit car. She took it off and saved herself a headache and a half before he went on a complete tirade.
Poor Travis. Whatever happened left him in a sour mood because he left the scene without meeting her.
“Well? What happened?”
Mye adjusted her silver-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of her nose and gave a half-hearted shrug toward tonight’s companion: Louis Armandi. “It’s hard to say. If you knew the driver, you’d understand my apprehension.”
“Then enlighten me.”
“I’d rather not.” Her voice changed from annoyance to resignation. “I’m focused on something else at the moment.”
“Something else? Or someone else?”
A low growl resonated deep in her throat. God, not him, too.
She wasn’t on the prowl for goodness sake.
“Fine. I’ll back off, but I want an answer to my question.” Armandi’s fingers edged toward her hands. “Now, tell me about the driver, please.”
She sniffed, then covered her nose with her hand. He reeked of sickeningly sweet meat.
Why didn’t she notice this sooner?
Well, for one, she didn’t meet him with the intention of smelling a dead person in the later stages of decompositon. No one did. Either he needed a shower—which didn’t fit the sophisticated businessman—or he was part of the undead community, which seemed like a better possibility. Didn’t Ma know a vampire or two when she was a kid?
She snarled under her head. The other vampire she knew didn’t give off this scent.
“Oh dear. My apologies.” He waved his hand under his nose. “I guess my cologne wore off. Bad timing, I suppose.”
“Whatever cologne you wear—it’s powerful stuff.”
“Your mother kept my secret. The bar might have hidden my scent, though. I try keeping it disguised as much as possible by staying low-key.”
“What are you?”
“A dhampir. However, most humans prefer the term half-vampire.” He reached for something inside his pocket. “Roll down the window. Once you catch your breath, then answer my question. The enchanted cologne should take effect within a few minutes.”
Mye couldn’t roll the window down fast enough.
For once, the smoggy air cleared her sensitive nose.
“I never thought to tell you because we had perfected everything when I first started the business.” Notes of spice—similar to Antaeus by Chanel--started overpowering the dead body stench. “The air filtration system usually does the rest when I’m at the office, the Mistress, or at my house.”
Okay. So far, Armandi made sense. He hadn’t met her anywhere else but the Tethered Mistress and at the parking lot of BWI Airport until today. Well, as an adult. Not as a child. Childhood didn’t count.
Maybe the magical cologne worked then.
She didn’t know.
“Anyway, we’re getting off topic.” His tone hardened. “Tell me more about why your agents are questioning Miss Greene.”
“She’s involved in a case we’re working on.” Mye straightened, setting her hands in her lap. “We were trying to press her for information. The boys either pissed her off or screwed up, because they walked away with nothing.”
“If the neurotic human interrogated her, I might believe you.” Armandi rolled her window up with a button. “But this is the mage we’re talking about. The one you care about, not your pet nimrod.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. “I retract my earlier statement.”
She groaned and almost covered her face when Travis got out of the car and stumbled toward the back of the building. He held his temple while he walked. Then he disappeared.
He would have left unless he found out something. She knew this.
What happened out there?
“Going back to Karyn Greene…” Armandi’s voice ended in a theatrical drawl. “I checked her record before asking her to meet you. Not a hint of criminal activity on her adult record. So why would she b
e involved in your case?”
“Her ex-boyfriend.” She tapped on the window. “He got involved in Lim’s cartel before he died. Word on the street says they’re up to shady shit again.”
“Then why question her?”
She held her breath, grabbing ahold of her jeans. Any minute, he would make assumptions about her family again. Not that she would blame him.
Everyone did because no one trusted her older brother.
“As far as I know, Lim’s clean.” For the moment, anyway. “He’s been seeing his therapist while attending those ridiculous AA meetings. Also, he’s meeting with his parole officer once a week. But he won’t tell me anything about the Zodiac Cartel.”
“Let’s be honest here.” He tapped his nose. “We both know you’re hiding something. You’re afraid to ask him anything because you think he’ll relapse.”
She bared her canines. “Do you blame me?”
“No.”
Tense silence rested between them. If she could prevent her brother from relapsing, she’d continue this investigation on her own. Travis would grill her once he found out about Lim, but whatever.
It beat triggering her brother again.
“I’m not trying to upset you.” He patted her head. “I just fail to see the significance of this, that’s all.”
“Me either.” She covered her face with her hand. “It’ll lead to more questions when we meet up again, though.”
“You can handle them later.”
She swallowed down a resigned sigh. He acted like she had a choice.
“For now, focus on Miss Greene.” His tone turned into the stern businessman again. “There’s another race next week. I’d like to earn back some of my investment.”
“I don’t want her.” She crossed her arms. “She’s a colossal bitch.”
“And you’re not?”
Her eye twitched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re being unreasonable.”
“You defy logic.” She waved a hand over his body. “You’re … you’re dead. A dead man who’s successful with gambling and making magical cologne is giving me a mortality check, but I’m the unreasonable one. Got it.”
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