Chapter Twelve

ERIN

It took another fifteen minutes for me to excuse myself from Harlon’s party, though every second was an eternity. The guests were all buzzing about the — bewitching? beautiful? terrifying? — woman Harlon had introduced or tut-tutting about the catering disaster.

“I’m so sorry.” Pippa cried over the mess she’d made. Literally.

My sister was brilliant — in action and acting. She cried so long and so pitifully, the guests forgave her mistake and even helped clean up the mess.

I would have helped too, but I couldn’t risk anyone figuring out we were related. Not when Pippa had used one of her many connections to infiltrate the catering team and act as my backup.

Yep, that would be a little tricky to explain.

Besides, it was hard enough for me to wheedle my way past Harlon.

“It’s been lovely, but I really have to get going. That’s the downside of the balloon business,” I lamented. “Four a.m. wake-ups make for very early bedtimes.”

Harlon nodded as slowly as he released my hand from his possessive handshake.

“Such a pity. I wanted to introduce you to Angelina.”

Thank God she was on the other side of the room.

She looked over, pinning me with a reptilian stare, then making eye contact with Harlon in a way that made me tense even more.

“Truly a pity.” I did my best to sound genuine. “But thanks again for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming. I hope we can meet again soon.”

He didn’t mention my property, but I sensed the subtext.

“That would be very nice.” Boy, was I was turning into a serial liar. “Good night.”

The moment I stepped outside, I sucked in the crisp night air. Not just to steady my nerves, but to clear my foggy mind too. Was that just the stuffiness of the party or a side-effect of Harlon’s subtle mind games?

I forced myself to walk, not run, to my Chevy and drive away at the speed limit, checking the rearview mirror the whole time.

The security gate took forever to open, and I eyed the cameras capturing me from four different angles. A good thing Nash wasn’t with me. But, yikes. How had he gotten past security?

And, shit. What if he hadn’t?

I tapped my jittery fingers on the steering wheel.

“Good night,” the guard called agreeably.

“Good night,” I called back as innocently as possible.

The moment I turned the first corner, I floored the gas pedal. Five minutes later, I slowed at a traffic signal and coasted into the quad rental parking. The office was locked up and dim, but bright lights illuminated the quads out front. I drove around to the back, killed the engine, and waited.

And waited…

Where was Nash? More importantly, who was Nash? What was his interest in Harlon — and why had he frozen at the sight of that woman?

That vampire, a little voice reminded me.

A good thing Pippa had realized that in time. Of we three half sisters, Pippa was the most tuned in to supernatural beings. Other supernatural beings, she might say, including herself in that category. Abby and I didn’t, though we didn’t fit in with humans either. We were the unlucky losers of a genetic lottery in which our parents’ different powers had canceled each other out, leaving us with no special abilities.

I frowned as a scrap of trash stirred in a breeze. There’d been no wind a moment ago, but now that I’d idly wiggled my fingers…

Okay, nearly no abilities. Nothing worth mentioning anyway. Not when my dad could conjure up entire dust storms, like that huge haboob that had consumed Phoenix years ago.

I remembered him watching the news that evening, then whispering, Oops .

All because of a sports car driver who had cut him off, then flipped him the bird.

A good lesson about events spinning out of control…a little like now, maybe.

The bushes stirred, and I spun around. Another false alarm, but it did turn my thoughts back to Nash. Was he a warlock too?

I snorted. No, because the man had zero charisma — the most identifiable warlock trait.

What, then? A vampire?

My blood chilled, but I rejected that too. He lacked their creepy aura, not to mention their slick, polished appearance and manners. At least, that’s how Pippa claimed to spot them.

A shifter, maybe?

My hand tightened around the steering wheel. Shifters came in all types, so they were hard to pin down.

My lips tightened bitterly. A lot like Mom .

Footsteps scuffed at the far end of the lot, and I whirled in the driver’s seat. Before I had time to say boo , someone yanked the passenger door open and jumped in.

“Hit it,” Nash ordered, pointing to the road.

I scowled. “Nice to see you too.”

“Nice to see you,” he grunted with zero warmth. “Hit it.”

With a screech of tires, I pulled out and headed west on 89A. When Nash reached up to adjust the rearview mirror to his angle, I turned it back.

“My car, my mirror. Where’s yours?”

“My car?” He made a vague gesture. “I came on foot.”

I wasn’t sure I bought that story, but that was the least of my worries now.

A few minutes passed in tense silence before he suddenly erupted.

“Dammit, I told you not to go to Harlon’s!”

I snorted. “Sorry, boss. Oh, wait. That’s me.”

“This isn’t about work.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s about a warlock, a vampire, and a man who has no right to boss me around. Or wait. Are you even a man? As in, human?”

He stared.

I drove through another three lights, close to crushing the steering wheel in my tight grip. Then I cracked.

“Boy, you really think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

He shook his head quickly. “Not stupid. I thought you were human…or close enough.”

“Gee, thanks for underestimating me.”

The worn tires of my pickup hummed over another mile of road before he finally murmured, “Sorry.”

I made a face. Let him apologize. I didn’t have to accept it gracefully.

He went on a little lamely. “I thought Harlon’s spell worked on you yesterday, during the flight.”

I shrugged. “I’m a good pretender.”

“Or a good liar.”

I shrugged. “You lied too. Who are you? What are you?”

A grim purse of the lips was his only answer.

By then, we’d nearly passed the exit for Paige Springs, but I hit the brakes and turned at the last minute. Nash braced himself as we careened off the highway. He still had both arms against the dashboard when I pulled over and faced him.

“I’ll say it again. Who are you? What are you? And what are you up to?”

“I’m not up to anything.”

“No, you’re just happy being mindless,” I barked, echoing his own words. Then I shook my head impatiently. “You show up at my job. You show up at Buffalo Bill’s the night my sisters and I went there—” Suddenly suspicious, I grabbed him by the collar, growling, “If you’re after one of my sisters…”

He stuck up his hands. “I’m not after anyone. I swear.”

I kept my hands twisted in the fabric of his shirt a moment longer, then released him with a little shove.

“No, you just happen to keep appearing in my life. Including at Harlon’s party. All just coincidence?”

His eyes sparkled at the accusation and not in a good way. But then he frowned, considering.

I killed the engine and switched off the headlights, plunging the view from starkly contrasting shadows to a softer, undulating outline of the landscape.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “Let me keep it simple for you. Who do you work for?”

“Desert Sky Balloon Adventures.”

I scoffed. “Who do you really work for?”

A roadrunner scurried across the dirt road, and we watched as it disappeared into the bushes. Nash kept his eyes there a long time before answering.

“I don’t work for anyone other than Henry. Not any more. But I used to work for the ADMSA.”

He watched my reaction. Did he actually expect me to recognize that jumble of letters?

I didn’t, so I got creative. “ADMSA…Association of Dimwits Making Stupid Assumptions?”

His eyebrows popped up. “Uh, no. The Agency for the Detection and Monitoring of Supernatural Activity.”

“I like mine better,” I muttered, but then his words sank in. “Wait. The agency for what ?”

He peered around as if the next roadrunner might report him for spilling state secrets. “The Agency for the Detection and Monitoring of Supernatural Activity. We—” He grimaced, correcting himself. “ They keep an eye on the likes of Harlon…Angelina…”

I bared my teeth. “My father?”

He shook his head. “No. Yes. I mean, warlocks in general. Not your father in particular.”

I studied his face for a lie but didn’t detect one.

“Are they keeping an eye on Harlon?” I tried next.

Nash made a face. “If they aren’t, they ought to be. He’s up to no good.”

I huffed. “Like it takes a special agency to figure that out.” Then I stopped. “Whose jurisdiction is this agency under?”

He hesitated, then murmured, “The government’s.”

I rolled my eyes. No shit, Sherlock. “I mean, what branch?”

“That’s classified. I shouldn’t even be telling you it exists.”

“Because I’m likely to announce it to everyone at Buffalo Bill’s?” I laughed without humor. “Like anyone would believe me.”

He didn’t say anything.

I mulled it all over. “You don’t work for this agency any more, and yet here you are, snooping on me.”

“I’m not snooping on anyone.”

“No, you were just joining the party very quietly through the second-floor balcony when no one was looking.”

He made a face, but I had him there, and he knew it.

“Even though I don’t work for the agency, I can still report suspicious activity. But I need more than a hunch to do that.”

“Harlon rewriting the memories of seven balloon passengers doesn’t count as evidence?”

“Evidence of malicious wrongdoing, I mean.”

I cackled. “Malicious? Why don’t you report that Angelina woman, then?”

He paled. Clearly, I’d struck a nerve there.

“Vampires weren’t what I trained for.” His eyes dulled, hinting at a lie — or a stretch in the truth, at least.

“How do you train for vampires?” I pictured a 007-style lab equipped with wooden stakes, cloves of garlic, and booby-trapped coffins.

“Good question,” Nash murmured bitterly.

Was that bitterness aimed at all vampires or Angelina in particular? And, yikes. Did he and she have a history?

Jealousy stabbed my gut, which was weird. Jealousy was when you wanted the guy, and that wasn’t the case here. Not even remotely.

“Can you report her — and Harlon?” I tried.

“I could.” His flat tone didn’t exactly inspire.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

He looked at his feet for a long time before replying. “I left for…several reasons…”

I bit back the impulse to fill in his pause with some guesses. Inability to cooperate? Poor communication? Insubordination?

Angelina? the back of my mind added.

Finally, he continued. “One reason I left was a hunch that we’d been infiltrated and that someone was leaking information.”

“Leaking information to whom? Harlon?”

He shrugged. “Possibly. I never got to the bottom of it. But entire investigations were compromised, and agents were endangered. I reported my suspicions, but no one took it seriously. Maybe the higher-ups I reported to were guilty.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Who knows.”

I resisted the urge to smooth his hair back into place, because a lock had fallen over his eye, giving him that tortured bad-boy look women found irresistible.

Other women, I mean.

I forced my focus to a different topic. “How is an agent supposed to protect him or herself against a warlock, anyway?”

“You tell me.” He held my gaze stubbornly. “You’re the one who took on Harlon.”

“I didn’t take him on. I was just…just…”

“Snooping?”

I sighed. “Yes, snooping. But he snooped first.”

Not a good argument, but I was in no mood to brush up my logic.

“He was snooping around your property, you mean,” Nash said.

I nodded slowly, wondering how much to tell him.

“A property with a secret vortex,” Nash continued.

I glared. I was the one questioning him , dammit.

But I was getting tired of arguing, and I had no idea what to do about Harlon.

I eyed Nash warily, considering. “What was that agency again? The BDSM?”

And, oops. The unintended innuendo made my cheeks heat. But now that my dirty mind started moving in that direction…

“ADMSA,” he grumbled.

“Whatever.” I glowered at the steering wheel. “Here’s the thing, James Bond. This is not a one-way street. If I tell you what I know, you have to do the same.”

He shook his head. “Too dangerous.”

I scoffed. “For me or for you? Because I wasn’t the one racing away from Harlon’s party like I’d seen a ghost.”

His eyes flashed with resentment, and his voice dropped to an ominous growl. “You have no idea the fire you’re playing with.”

Ha. Did he mean Angelina, Harlon, or himself?

I shrugged. “Maybe not. But maybe Harlon is the one biting off more than he can chew.” I leaned in. “We both know he’s up to something. So let’s talk — openly. No lies. Because this goes too deep and there might not be anyone but us to stop it. Not if your agency can’t be trusted.”

“Not my agency,” he muttered.

“Whatever. Are you with me on this, or aren’t you?”

His eyes bored into mine. I glared back, refusing to give in.

Usually, I avoided trouble. But I had a hunch this trouble was coming no matter what, so I might as well take the initiative while I could.

“Well? What do you say?” I asked, growing impatient. “It’s gonna be a hell of a long walk back to town if I leave you way out here, you know.”

He made a face. “Threats are not a good way to win trust.”

“Not a threat. A warning. If I trust you, you have to trust me.”

His expression made it clear what a hurdle that would be. A hurdle that would take more than words to overcome. For him and for me.

He thought it over for another long, quiet minute, then nodded slightly. “Okay. I’m in. Tell me what you know — starting with your property. Why is Harlon so interested?”