Enigma (16 page)

“Isn’t she hidden away on that ranch in Wyoming?”

“Sort of.” They’d have to drive into the night, but they couldn’t fight what they couldn’t
see
, much less quantify. “We’re out of leads, McNamara. Dead end—literally.”

He cast another glance at her jacket and sighed. “And if that spell
is
still working, if we don’t get it to someone who can break it…”

Then Christ knew where it would end, or if it would. It might suck Oscar and Sathers right the hell out of everyone’s memories, and maybe take Anna and Patrick along with them. “We could destroy it right now.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” she admitted. “It could work, or backfire all over us.”

He shook his head and climbed into the car, remaining silent until she was pulling away from the curb. “Part of me wants to throw all this back in Alec’s lap,” he said quietly. “But we can’t, can we?”

If they didn’t find proof that someone other than Alec had ripped Oscar apart, it would do more than hurt people she loved. It had the potential to destroy the fragile peace between the regions’ councils. This one thing could ricochet so quickly, so completely, that it would tear their world to pieces.

Anna had plenty of black marks on her conscience. No way could she walk and add this to the list. “Welcome to the wonderful world of being a hero, honey. Long hours, bad food and no hazard pay. Get plenty of chicks, though.”

His sudden smile made her stomach flutter. “I’ll settle for one, if she’ll drive the first leg to Wyoming.”

They were in over their heads, drowning in magic and chasing a killer. But when he smiled like that, it felt like everything would work out.

They were barely out of New Mexico when Patrick started having second thoughts. With the Wyoming state line looming up ahead, they had turned into fifth or sixth thoughts, and each one seemed to linger at the base of his neck, building into a nagging, aching pressure.

Maybe it was simple exhaustion. It was nearing midnight, and the ranch was another couple of hours away. But even if he’d wanted to stop and gather his thoughts, he wasn’t sure there was a damn hotel, motel or sign of fucking life to be found. The land beyond the headlights was flat, endless and empty. He could see how it might appeal to a wolf, but it was making the inside of his skin itch.

He hoped.

Patrick refused to check the rearview mirror. He wouldn’t be able to see the bundled fetish, but he could still sense it, a constant reminder that his own magic was on the fritz. First the crap with Oscar’s ghost, then the backlash of the spells at the fixer’s house. The Ink Shrink had told him his tattoos might not protect him, but he hadn’t said shit about vulnerability to possession or magical buildup.

So Patrick was a magical time bomb, on his way to see the most dangerous person in North America. If Michelle Peyton had a thimbleful of the power she was credited with, she’d look at him and see all the truths he’d been struggling to hide. His weakness, his flaws, how fast he was spinning out of control. There’d be no concealing it from Anna. She already took ridiculous risks to protect him, and if she knew how close to human frailty he really was…

Seers were the most terrifying creatures in the supernatural world. Abominations, if you listened to most. Shifters weren’t meant to use magic or cast spells, but Seers could do it all. They were considered a blessedly rare mutation, one the shifters tended to stomp out before the child in question could grow into his nearly limitless magical aptitude. Michelle had survived by being the daughter of the Alpha, but by all reports she’d lived the life of a virtual prisoner, shunned and belittled.

She was probably bitter, angry. Terrifying. And he had to convince her not to tattle on him to Anna.

Flexing his hands on the steering wheel, Patrick cleared his throat. “How well do you know her? Michelle Peyton, I mean.”

Anna shrugged. “I don’t. I haven’t seen her since I quit working for the Conclave, and even before that, I was never allowed to talk to her.”

Jesus. “I suppose the Conclave wouldn’t have wanted the two of you to be friends.”

“No.” She hesitated. “I thought I might feel like I knew her, because she looks so much like Nick, but I never did. No one could mistake them for one another.”

He’d met Nicole Peyton enough times to know she lived like an heiress, swore like a sailor and dressed like a lumberjack. “No one could mistake anyone else for Nick.”

Anna laughed softly. “No, I guess not.”

Silence fell again, and Patrick couldn’t tell if Anna wanted it that way or if she couldn’t think of anything to say. They hadn’t had this problem before. Between their shared experiences and overlapping contact list, there was always a story to tell or a rumor to confirm or debunk.

Talking had been easy before they’d fucked.

The tension building between his shoulders lurched into his gut and left him fighting nausea. For all he knew, Anna had suggested driving straight to the ranch because she didn’t want to fuck him again. They were both so damn good at switching work on and off that it hadn’t occurred to him until now that there was nothing to be accomplished by showing up at the ranch at two a.m. that couldn’t happen just as easily if they rolled in the next morning, fully rested.

The sex had been good. Maybe that made him an arrogant jackass, but there it was. It was whatever she’d seen in his eyes in the aftermath that had shut her down, probably because she didn’t want his smushy damn feelings getting all over her.

That was Anna Lenoir. She’d jump in front of bullets for you, but God forbid you give a shit about her.

He chewed that uncomfortable thought over for what seemed like forever before he felt her gaze on him. “Think of something else?”

She bit her lip. “You should probably decide now. If you want them to know about us.”

He bit back his first response—
what is there to know?
That might force her to name whatever this was between them, but he knew better than to back a wolf into a corner and like the results. “I think that’s your decision to make,” he said instead, picking his words carefully. “They’re your friends more than mine.”

“Okay.” She went back to staring out the window.

Patrick ground his teeth together. “Do you want them to know?”

“Not really. I don’t know if any of them would understand.”

He was a badass fucking bounty hunter. He reminded himself of that fact twice before he thought he could open his mouth and speak without pain lacing every syllable. But the words, mild as they were, were still a weapon. “Yeah, I’m not the kind of guy people bring home to their friends and family.”

She exhaled, slow and steady, before answering. “They won’t understand why I was this careless. I’m selfish, but I’m not cruel.”

The words were so ridiculous they should have been a joke. He couldn’t even wrap his brain around the implication at first, and when he did…

Jesus Christ, she believed it. She believed her own goddamn friends thought she was so toxic that they’d take her to task for getting involved with someone like Patrick. She believed her friends would try to protect
him
from
her
.

He was the one being selfish and careless. Of course she didn’t know how to let him love her. She didn’t know how to let anyone love her. Patrick might have lost his only family, but Anna had never learned how to have one.

And if he pointed out her vulnerability, she’d probably kick open the door and take her chances rolling free of the car at seventy miles an hour. “Okay,” he said quietly, trying to give her back a sense of control. “It’s your call.”

It worked. She loosened up a little and shifted in the seat, angling her body toward his. “The real question is how we’ll handle being around so much domestic bliss. Picket fences and babies, what the hell?”

At least she was talking now. He tried to relax, even managed a smile, though the churning in his gut and ache in his skull continued undiminished. “When did Nick have her baby?”

“Not quite two weeks ago. That’s why she and Derek couldn’t come to the wedding.”

“Damn. And Michelle has a kid too?”

“AJ. But watch out. From what Nick says, he’s all over the place now. If you’re not careful, you’ll trip over him.”

“I only got the supernatural rumor mill version of how the Seer ended up with a kid, living on a ranch.” The small talk helped, gave him something to focus on. “She’s married to Enrica Maglieri’s son, but he’s not the father, right?”

“No, AJ’s dad—” Anna’s voice broke, but she covered quickly. “His dad was Michelle’s bodyguard, Aaron. He’s dead.”

The answer was obvious, but he asked the question anyway. “You knew him?”

Anna closed her eyes. “He was in my training group. The six of us did everything together for almost five years. Hell, we grew up together in a lot of ways.”

“I’m sorry.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel again and tried to think of a topic that wouldn’t end in heartache. “I heard Kat say they might be headed back to the ranch. At least she and Andrew aren’t very domestic.”

A tiny smile curved her lips, but she didn’t open her eyes. “Shows what you know. They’re just as bad as all the others.”

“With the bliss, maybe, but they’re still out there kicking ass. Ben would be so jealous of her.”

Anna reached over and touched his hand, her touch jolting through him with an intensity that made her words seem to echo. “I know you miss him.”

“Yeah.” He echoed too, a weird reverberation that didn’t fade when he jerked his hand from hers. Neither did the prickling sensation, like something crawling under his skin. “Do you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“When you touched me…” That nagging throb at the base of his skull exploded into a full on headache, and he had to tighten both hands against the wheel. “I don’t know. I thought I was just getting tired, but now—”

“Pull over.” Anna was already scrambling to unbuckle her seat belt. “Now.”

He didn’t argue. The world blurred with each flare of pain, and he was starting to think he’d puke on her before he could stop the damn car.

The tires skidded on the rocky side of the highway as they drifted to the side, and Patrick focused all his attention on slowing without braking hard enough to toss them both through the windshield.

When the car jerked to a halt, Anna threw the car into park and flicked on the interior light. “Let me see—” She grabbed his face, tilted it to the burning light. “Jesus.”

He fought the urge to yank his head away and close his eyes. The impossible brightness spiked straight through his skull, and it took him too many fumbling seconds to make the connection. “How strung out do I look?” Gritting the words through clenched teeth undermined his weak attempt at humor.

“Like you’ve smoked everything but your shoes.” Her thumb brushed his cheek in a quick caress, then she released him and clawed at the glove compartment with a curse. “Where are they?”

He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the light and flogged his woozy brain into figuring out what she was looking for. “The charms?”

“Not yours. Mine.” She glanced at him as she kept rummaging through the open compartment. “It’s that damn thing, isn’t it?”

The truth was galling. “I don’t know. Seems likely.”

A small wooden box rattled in her hand. “Just hold on.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sugar pie. You owe me a dance.” That didn’t make sense, but his lips were starting to feel as numb as his brain. And Anna was blurry as she leaned between the seats, reaching toward— “Hey, no. Don’t touch it. Don’t—”

She said something, but the buzzing in his ears drowned it out. The noise churned up into a roar that jolted through him, rocking him back against the car door. He couldn’t remember moving, but then it happened again, throwing him against the window so hard he thought he’d shatter the glass.

Anna lifted him, one hand around the back of his neck and the other on his cheek. “Patrick?”

“Let’s not do that again.” God, he was slurring his words now, and that wasn’t going to soothe her. And he
had
to soothe her, even if he couldn’t really see her. “I’m okay. But maybe you should drive, huh?”

A third jolt, but this one didn’t throw him. It eased up his spine, a slow-moving heat that steadied his hands and cleared his vision.

Anna was right in front of him, her mouth set in a firm line and her eyes wide with worry. “It’s not funny.”

“Laugh, Lenoir.” His hand shook, but he managed to lift it, to press his thumb to her lips. “Laugh, and I’ll promise not to go anywhere.”

She didn’t laugh, but she did turn her face and kiss his hand, warm and soft and full of raw affection, and that was a much better feeling to take with him into the darkness.

Chapter Twelve

Even after the turnoff from the two-lane, it took almost half an hour to navigate the rough road to Luciano’s ranch house. By the time the porch light broke through the darkness, Anna’s knuckles ached from gripping the steering wheel, and she’d cracked the dashboard with an ill-advised blow of frustration.

The only thing that kept her sane was the steady, measured pace of Patrick’s breathing. Her one-shot wards hadn’t worked to contain the fetish, but they’d wrapped around Patrick just fine, cocooning him from the worst of the fetish’s effects.