The bastard deserved to be called worse than that. I felt vaguely astonished at how readily he’d accepted my gift. Yet there was no other way I could’ve picked up on those details, especially the car and the man’s description. Perhaps he’d seen other gifted at work.
“Good luck,” I murmured as Chuch stood.
That didn’t begin to encapsulate my feelings, but Esteban just studied me, as if he knew. “I’ll be in touch.” He folded to his feet as I did—a gentleman, oddly enough.
When we quit the bar, relief rushed through me. Who knew what might’ve happened if Chance hadn’t been there, or Chuch?
We drove back to the house in silence, me nursing my sore palm, the guys lost in thought. A man would die as a result of tonight’s work—no trial, no jury, just an execution. I had no doubt of it, but I didn’t doubt he deserved it either, not after what I’d seen him do to Rosita—and probably others after her.
Before we went inside, Chuch checked the wards. Though the warlock was dead, we couldn’t be too careful. As we came into the living room, we found Kel still watching TV. That made me smile despite the pain. He didn’t glance away from the moving images on the screen. The light glazed his skin, cast his tattoos into sharp relief. Butch bounced around my ankles until I picked him up and scratched him between the ears.
Eva was in the office, doing more research on the Net. “I never knew it was so bad,” she said as we came in. “It’s crazy. Last September, gunmen burst into a club and threw five severed heads inside as a warning. The people who took Min are not fucking around.”
I thought we’d established that. Then again, Eva hadn’t seen some of the things I had. That made a difference.
“They’ve joined forces with malevolent powers.” Kel spoke from the hallway. “Using demons and dark magick where simple force fails. If we do not stem the tide, they will consolidate their control over the country, and drugs will be the least of their crimes.”
Was he thinking about the girls, stuffed into crates like so much produce? God knew they would haunt me.
Chance reached for me as if he sensed my thoughts. He hugged me around the shoulders and I leaned into him for just a moment. “Montoya owns IBC, doesn’t he? Selling girls into slavery pays a whole lot better than waste management.”
“I’m pretty sure he does,” I answered. “That’s the only connection that makes sense. But proving it would be harder.”
Kel turned then and his smile chilled me. “We don’t need proof. We need to know where he lives.”
“I got that covered too, primo.” Chuch grinned. “If I can’t find out about it, it ain’t worth knowing. Now I’m just waiting for Esteban to get back to me.”
“You weren’t the only ones who found something,” Eva said with a smirk. “I called your cousin Ramón and asked him to go check out the address for the registered agent that fronts for IBC.”
“Good thinking.” Chuch took a seat in the recliner, leaving Chance and me leaning up against the wall, Butch nestled against my shoulder, and Kel listening from the hall.
“The place was totally ransacked.” She clicked a few times on the computer and brought up a folder. “I downloaded some snaps from his cell phone before he left.”
We all leaned over to take a look. Blood spattered walls, paper shredded all over the floor.
“Christ,” I said. “It looks like somebody died in there.”
“Probably the agent,” Chuch said with a shrug. “With the warlock in charge of the operation gone, Montoya is cutting his losses and tying up loose ends.”
Shit. Good thing we had another avenue open for finding Montoya. I hoped like hell Esteban would come through.
War Council
We sat around waiting for Chuch’s phone to ring. I fed Butch, let him out, and then held him in my lap while others did the talking. I wondered if he missed Lenny.
Arguing passed the time best, and Eva was all over that.
“When we hit, I’m going too.” She folded her arms and dared anyone to disagree. “I know how to handle myself.” I expected Chuch might have something to say about that, but she went on. “And it would be stupid to leave me here by myself where anything could happen to me. At least if I’m with you, you can protect me, right?”
Oh, well played, Eva.
That silenced the rising protest from her beleaguered husband. I glanced out the window, saw the wide open sky fading to dawn-mauve, pink, and pearl streaks along the horizon. Like a nocturnal monster, I yawned. Man, my sleep schedule was all screwed up.
Still, we needed to lay our plans. Yesterday morning, we hadn’t done such a stellar job of that, and only Chance’s luck combined with Kel’s berserker battle prowess carried us through. We couldn’t count on that again.
Apparently Chance shared that opinion because he said to Eva, “Get a pen and paper, will you? We need to talk strategy.”
“Good idea!” She bounced to her feet, hurried to the kitchen, and returned, ready to take notes. I laughed softly at the idea of having an assault secretary.
“Here’s what I have in mind.” Because Chance thought better on his feet, he slid off the couch and paced the length of the living room. “Once I find the location, we send Booke in first to check for magickal traps.”
“You should ask him,” I pointed out.
He nodded in agreement. While Chance went to look for Booke online and Chuch checked his weapons cache, I ate a bowl of bean soup for breakfast. No one came to see about me. I sighed and took my bowl to the sink. I had a wounded palm and a festering zombie bite on my shoulder that needed tending.
Was it unreasonable of me to want Chance to put me first? The way he blew hot and cold comprised my chief objection to resuming our relationship. With that dance, I thought maybe he’d changed, but now I stood in the kitchen with a burned hand and no help. I knew he was worried about Min and wanted to be ready to move on a moment’s notice. I got that, but I hated he hadn’t asked if I was okay after all we’d been through in the last twenty-four.
Shit. Maybe I was just high maintenance.
Since everyone else was busy, I went around checking wounds. Chance waved me away; he was talking to Booke on IM. Well, fine, let him get gangrene. No help for it, I’d have to do for myself, so I headed to the bathroom. The bite on my shoulder looked puffy. It hurt when I poked it, but all I could think to do was slice it open and pour peroxide on it. I probably needed a tetanus shot.
Hesitating, I gazed at myself in the mirror. Didn’t recognize the woman with the bruised eyes and cuts on her face. Only the long red hair looked familiar.
“You want me to?” Kel asked from behind me.
I froze, fixated on the knife in his hand. Maybe I had a death wish because I heard myself say, “Yeah, please. I don’t think I can cut myself.”
If he’d said, My pleasure, I’m sure I would’ve run screaming. Instead he set about sterilizing the blade. Then, with the precision of a surgeon, he made a small incision, opening up the inflamed skin. I tried not to think of the dead woman’s teeth that had made those marks.
Not for the first time, I wished I had some kind of healing ability instead of the “gift” of being able to read objects. Part of me wished I couldn’t do that either, but ambivalence crept in when I considered being without it. Good or bad, the touch defined me every bit as much as my blue eyes.
Could I actually live a normal life? And would it feel like giving up the last link to my mother if I did figure out some way to burn out this gift I never wanted?
It shook me, how ably Kel treated my wound. Such a fine line between killing and healing. One small slip of the scalpel and the doctor becomes the murderer. By the time he finished bandaging my shoulder, I could feel myself trembling.