Authors: Natalie J. Damschroder
He’d tried to get the three of them to stay at the hotel this morning, but gave up after two hours of arguing, knowing damned well they’d just show up anyway. They were waiting for the warrant now. She didn’t know what he planned to do with the totems, if he thought federal custody would be sufficient to stop Pat from doing anything else. She didn’t want to ask, because he had no idea her intention was to destroy them. Assuming, of course, she could find a way to get her hands on them long enough to do so without going to jail herself.
She folded her arms and paced along the side of the truck, wishing again that she’d never called him. That had backfired painfully. If the FBI took the totems out of her reach, that would put everyone in even greater danger.
Why hadn’t she just snatched them and run yesterday, when they were right there
in her hands?
Because you couldn’t, moron
. Will had only taken one out of the case, locking it back up as if it was an ingrained habit. Now, she realized if she could have destroyed even that one, it might have been enough to stop Pat’s plans. Maybe he’d have left them all alone after that. Or maybe he’d have just killed them all in retaliation.
She wished she hadn’t thought of that.
Refocusing on what was happening around them—which was nothing—she said to Henricksen, “What in our brief history has given you any indication I’m more than a coward? I’m not getting anywhere near you guys while you’re working.”
“Good.” But he eyed her mistrustfully, then gave a harder glare to Grant and Kell. “Keep her here.”
“No problem.”
She rolled her eyes. She wanted to bitch at Grant for dismissing her, but that was just impatience and frustration. She leaned against the truck, staring up the driveway the three agents would soon be ascending. As soon as the junior agent who’d been waiting to receive the paper warrant showed up with it. He was late.
Hopefully that was due to traffic or a printer out of ink. She’d give him a few minutes before turning the fret machine to that channel. Right now it had its hands full with the men flanking her.
She’d seen Grant first this morning, and he’d looked at her with such sad eyes she was sure he knew about her kiss with Kell the night before. Then Kell had left his room and hadn’t given any hint that anything had happened. He treated both her and Grant the same way he had all along.
The kiss and the report on Olivia had apparently canceled each other out.
When the junior agent’s few minutes had passed and he still hadn’t arrived, she pushed away from the truck, determined to go find out what was happening. She’d only taken a step when her phone buzzed in her jeans pocket. “Oh, no.”
Grant glanced down at her. “What?”
Kell didn’t move. “Her mother’s calling.”
Grant frowned. “How do you know?”
“She always calls Zoe at work on Monday mornings.” He leaned to look at her past Grant. “Did you talk to her last week?”
“Yes.” The phone buzzed again.
“Did you tell her not to call work this week?”
“No.” She hadn’t thought that far ahead, dammit.
Kell resumed his position. “They’ll have told her she sold the company.”
“No, they won’t.” She sighed and pulled the phone from her pocket. “Sherry knows better.” Kell didn’t respond. She sighed again and answered the call. “Hi, Mom.”
“Zoebaby, where are you? What’s happened? I called the office, and they said…they said…” She began to hyperventilate.
“Mom, I’m fine.” She had to work to keep the anger from her voice. She’d
thought
Sherry knew better than to tell her mother about the sale. “Honest. I’m in California with Kell, on a trip. What’s going on?”
“They told me you don’t work there anymore!” The wail was so loud, Grant flinched.
“I don’t, Mom.” She sighed yet again. She couldn’t lie to her mother outright, but God, she hadn’t worked out what to say to her. Her focus had been too narrow once she started down this road. “I sold the company. I’m ready to move on to something else.”
“What? You…oh, nooooo, Zoe!” She started to cry. “You love that business! You’ve built something so wonderful! Why, just last week I was shopping for new draperies for the dining room online and the one store said ‘Designed by Zoe Enterprises’ and I was so proud! Now what will you do?”
She didn’t want to have this conversation. Ever. But certainly not now. The only way to cut off her mother’s histrionics was to be sharp and swift. “I don’t know. Listen, Kell and I are kind of busy. Can I call you next week?” She should have some idea of what her life would be by then.
“Oh, just a moment longer, dear.” She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I need to hear your voice. I thought you’d been killed and no one had told me.”
The sentence was too ridiculous to respond to, but it was the kind of thing Zoe had heard regularly since she went to college. “That would never happen, Mom.” Her attention was caught by everyone’s heads turning to the right, and she leaned forward to see what they were looking at. A black sedan sped down the street toward them. “Mom, I’m sorry, I gotta go. Love you.” She shoved the phone in her pocket as the car screeched to a stop and a very young, very lanky man stumbled out and jogged up to Agent Henricksen.
“Where’s the warrant?” The older agent gazed at the young man’s empty hands. “Didn’t you get it?”
“You won’t believe it, sir. The warrant’s in the car, but we can’t use it.”
“Why?”
Zoe, Grant, and Kell had all moved in unison, closing around the two men. She couldn’t seem to catch a breath.
“Carling had a break-in last night. The totems are gone.”
Chapter Fourteen
Grant and Kell grabbed Zoe’s arms with barely enough time to keep her knees from cracking on the pavement. They hit hard enough as it was, but the pain was incidental.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Henricksen roared. “How were we not informed about this?”
“It just came into the office half an hour ago,” the other agent explained. “I tried to call you, but…um…my phone went dead.”
“Son of a bitch!” Henricksen whirled and slammed a flat hand on the hood of the truck. The other agents fell in, and he started giving new orders.
Zoe knelt, numb, on the pavement. Gone. They were gone. It had been a miracle that they’d tracked them down in the first place, and now they had to start over. With only five days until the blood moon, Pat’s target for the ritual.
“Pat,” she managed to say. Grant and Kell both bent over her, and she felt a spark of annoyance at their hovering. “It had to be Pat.”
“No, it didn’t.” Grant moved to help her up, and Kell joined in, and Zoe gritted her teeth that she needed them to. But as soon as she was on her feet, she yanked her arms away and stepped back.
“What do you mean, it didn’t?”
“It didn’t have to be Pat. Remember, there are—”
“It was him!” She didn’t care what cold logic Grant had to offer. She wasn’t operating on logic right now. “It was Pat in the car yesterday, in this neighborhood. I
led
him to the totems, and now he’s got them, and now what do we do?” She struggled not to imagine what was coming next.
Olivia is protected
.
He can’t get to her.
“Don’t you
want
it to be him?” she demanded, only partially aware of everyone staring at her, including Kell. She just wanted Grant, the one person who could know what this meant, to
crack
a little, goddammit. “After what he did to your brother? Don’t you want an excuse to—”
Grant’s hand slapped over her mouth, and he yanked her against him with his other arm tight across her back. She struggled to breathe through her nose, but it was agitation, not because he was cutting off her air. One of the standby agents stepped forward, but Kell stopped him.
“That’s exactly why I
don’t
want it to be him,” Grant growled low in her face. “I’ve been fighting bloodlust since I found out he was free. I’m not that man, Zoe. I won’t become that man.” He eased off a little, resting his hand lightly on her mouth now, holding her a little more loosely. But she could still see desperation in his eyes, something he’d never let her see before, not since that night in Ohio.
“If someone else has them,” he continued with less vehemence, “one of the treasure hunters they hired, maybe double-crossing Pat and Freddie, then those two are no closer than we are, no closer than they were yesterday.”
Blinking back tears, Zoe nodded. Grant removed his hand, and she said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
“It’s all right.”
But she shook her head. “It’s not. Because you’re right, if someone else took them, that might mean Olivia is safe. But it won’t stop them. Time is getting short. We can’t split our focus when the likelihood is that Pat has them now.” Her mind raced. “The key. He can’t use them without the key.”
“He might have it,” Grant said reluctantly. “We found no trace of it. If he has it already—”
Kell cursed and whipped out his phone. “I need to go back to Boston. I can’t be this far away when my sister—”
Henricksen interrupted, ending his own call. “Delmarry just talked to Carling’s housekeeper. She reported the break-in and the missing totems, which she said was an odd coincidence since they were the last thing you looked at yesterday.” He held up a hand when Zoe opened her mouth to protest. “Obviously, you’re not suspects. You were with me. But she doesn’t know where Carling is.”
“He’s not here?” Zoe’s blood had gone cold so often in the last few days, it should be slush by now.
“She claims he had a date last night and didn’t come home, which isn’t unusual, but he doesn’t answer his phone, either.”
Zoe didn’t know Will very well, but even after one meeting, she knew that wasn’t right. The foreboding she’d had all night grew. “Shaun…”
“We’re on it. We’ll track him down, don’t worry. The cops already have his outdoor surveillance tapes, so we’re getting those. A team is coming to print the house, determine how they got in, etcetera.”
“Then what?” Kell asked.
“Then we investigate.” He opened the driver’s door of his vehicle and motioned to the back seat. “Get in. We’ll drop you at the hotel.”
“Wait here,” Grant ordered Zoe and Kell and walked over to confer with the agent. Zoe would have followed if Kell hadn’t been holding onto her. She was steady, but didn’t tell him so. She had a feeling he was stabilizing himself by helping her.
Grant came back and nudged them to the side as the junior agent backed up his car and the other agency vehicle headed down the street.
“We’re not going back to the hotel,” he said. “Another agent will drop me there to get our stuff while Henricksen takes you two to the airport to buy tickets. I’ll get a cab over and meet you there.”
Zoe stared at him. “Where are we going?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Stone wants to go to Boston. I want to take you back to the Keys, but that’s up to you. I don’t think we should hang around here.”
“But the totems—”
“Whoever took them, they’re not staying in San Francisco. And if you’re right, and it’s Pat and Freddy, you may still be part of their plan. I want you away from them.”
Kell gripped her elbow as if Grant was trying to take her away. “We can protect her better if there are two of us.”
Grant nodded, but without agreement. “We could. But your sister is the more vulnerable party, and I don’t think Zoe should go near her.”
They all stood stock still for several seconds, indecision flavoring the air around them.
“Okay, then.” Zoe broke away and headed for the car. “We’ll decide on the way.” She didn’t like Grant being on his own, but he was the one who could most take care of himself, and she supposed speed was priority. The sooner they got away from here, the safer they’d all be, not just her.
She sat silently in the back of the car, staring out the window, debating what to do next. Barely a month ago she’d been brave enough to break her engagement, sell her company, and try to draw the bull’s-eye away from those she loved. A few days ago—though it felt like far longer—she’d had the courage to charge toward the danger. But right now, she was weak. She couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t decide the most logical, safest move. And it made her sick to admit it, but it was because of fear. Not just fear for Olivia, but fear for herself. Seeing Pat had changed everything. Even if it wasn’t him in that car, the moment had rendered any ounce of bravery inert. She
hated
it—and she couldn’t let it stand.
They were halfway to the airport when Zoe’s phone buzzed a text message. Assuming it was her mother again, she absently pulled it out to check. Her gasp at the image on the screen had Kell sliding across the seat to her side.
“What is it?” He craned to see the phone, which she kept tilted away.
“It’s…” She scrolled down, read the words there, and scrolled back up so the picture filled the little screen. “It’s Carling.” She turned the phone so Kell could see the picture. The man was tied to a bed, a rag tied across his mouth, something red on his forehead that she assumed was blood. Even on the small screen, his terror was obvious.