Tempting Danger (36 page)

“Yeah, unless they’re cats. So? You have any reason to think you’re dealing with sanity here?”

Unless they’re cats? Lily was still chewing on that when Rule said, “Are we dealing with two threats? One is a telepath, the other a sorcerer. Or could both skills belong to the same person?”

“You ain’t listening to me! You don’t have one bloody reason to think a sorcerer’s involved!”

“Hold on a minute,” Lily said. “I felt the magic used to kill Martin.”

“Yeah, but you’re as ignorant of sorcery as most fools these days. What you felt was power, power generated by death magic. Which your U.S. law calls sorcery, but that law was written by ignoramuses. Power is not the same as sorcery. A sorcerer
could
use raw power for a slice and dice, yeah, but so could anybody if they had a tool that stored enough juice.”

“Okay,” Rule said. “So we may or may not have a sorcerer, but we know we have a crazy telepath who practices death magic and has access to a great deal of power.”

“Plus this telepath is under Her thumb, and She wants you dead or otherwise inconvenienced. Your best bet is to leave the country.”

“You know that’s not possible.”

Max sighed. “I knew it. I just knew you wouldn’t be sensible. Second choice would be her.” He nodded at Lily.

This time it was Rule who scowled. “What do you mean?”

“Send Knockers after your loony-tunes. Can’t bespell her, can’t get inside her mind—sensitives are immune, period. She’s the only one could get close enough to do much. Anyone else gets blasted.”

LILY
asked a few more questions before they left, but Max didn’t have much more he could tell them—a few guesses, a couple of shrugs. Rule was silent until they got to his car. “It was a damned stupid idea, talking to Max,” he said, slamming his car door. “Just don’t let him give you any damned stupid ideas.”

Lily buckled up. “Such as?”

“You are not going after Harlowe alone.”

“I can’t, can I? You’d have to be nearby.” How near, they didn’t know. They hadn’t tested the boundaries of the bond. “Do you think Harlowe’s the telepath?” she asked thoughtfully. “I’m not sure.”

“Who, then?” He jammed down on the accelerator.

The man was in a seriously bad mood. “Well, if we accept Max’s opinion as a working hypothesis, the telepath in question is nuts. Yesterday we talked to several people who know Harlowe and didn’t get a hint of anything like that.”

“Crazy doesn’t always show.”

“True.” Rule was scared for her. That’s why he was so angry. It made her feel odd, disoriented.

It wasn’t as if no one cared if she put herself in jeopardy. Her family worried, though she took care to keep most of the scary stuff from them. But the risk inherent in her job was one reason they disliked it. Why did Rule’s reaction make her feel so funny?

“Lily.” He’d forced more calm into his voice. “You aren’t thinking of going after him alone, are you?”

“He has to be questioned, and backup won’t help if Harlowe—or whoever—can screw around with their minds.” With a jolt she understood why Rule’s reaction left her feeling all turned around. She
liked
it. She liked being important to him, but it was the mate bond making him feel this way. It messed with his feelings just like their hypothetical telepath had messed with the minds of the two FBI agents.

In a tight voice he said, “If he can’t screw around with your mind, he might settle for killing you.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing the last few years—going to tea parties? I’ve arrested plenty of people who would’ve been glad of a chance to kill me. They didn’t get it.”

“Dammit, Lily, you can’t arrest him anyway. You don’t have a badge.”

She shrugged. “Even if I did, we don’t have enough evidence yet for an arrest. I wish that I’d accepted the position with the Feds, though. Aside from the problem with making an arrest, the two of us aren’t enough.”

“I can call on roughly two thousand clan members. What do you need?”

Her eyes widened. “Just like that? I thought your father had all the authority.”

“Technically, I have no authority. But if the Lu Nuncio tells someone the clan needs him urgently, he’ll come. Or she will,” he added. “Some of our sisters and daughters marry out, but many remain within the clan.”

A sudden thought made her grin. “I see. You’re like Grandmother—no technical authority, but if she says come, we come.”

“I really need to meet your grandmother.”

“Be careful what you ask for.” She felt a little steadier. “We need to figure out what Seabourne’s map represents, even if we aren’t sure why he sent it. We need to finish the financials. Croft ran the ones on the church, but we should look at Harlowe, too. A few trained law enforcement personnel would be nice, but I don’t suppose you have any of those.”

He was silent a moment. “Crystal and I should be able to handle the financial aspects, if you tell us what to look for.”

Lily raised her eyebrows. “Crystal?”

“My assistant. I don’t think you’ve met her. The map has me puzzled, but Walker knows the wilderness areas around here intimately. He might be able to identify some of the features. I can’t get you any law enforcement personnel, but I can summon some security. I should have done it earlier.”

“If you mean bodyguards—”

“I do. Has it occurred to you that if Max is right, Harlowe and company know everything that Croft and Karonski did? Which includes the mate bond. You’re the only one immune to their tampering. You’re also the key to controlling me. The only real question in my mind is whether they’ll try to grab you or just kill you.”

THEY
went to Rule’s apartment. Hers was simply too small. He’d made several phone calls en route, and they’d soon be joined by a number of Nokolai.

Rule lived on the tenth floor of a high-rise. It struck Lily as they waited for the elevator that this was odd. “Why would a claustrophobe want to ride up and down in an elevator every day?”

“I’m not phobic. And Nokolai owns the building, so it’s practical for me to live here.”

Testy,
she thought.
Don’t call the man a claustrophobe just because small spaces scare him. Right.

The elevator arrived, and they stepped inside. She had Croft’s briefcase; Rule was carrying Karonski’s laptop. She eased close to him, just in case the big, tough werewolf wasn’t as comfortable as he pretended.

He pushed the button for his floor, stuck his hands in his pockets, and said, “Besides, it’s a fast elevator.”

She smiled.

“What about you?” he asked quietly. “You okay in small spaces?”

“Mostly. I don’t do saunas.” The trunk had been swelteringly hot.

“When I moved here I thought it might desensitize me to ride the elevator every day.”

“Did it help?”

His smile was wry. “Not noticeably.”

The elevator opened onto a small shared hall—only one other unit on this floor, she noticed. Must be large apartments. Rule’s door was at the west end. He opened it. “I’m going to make some coffee.”

“Why am I not surprised?” She followed him inside, closed the door, and turned. “Where should I . . .” Her voice drifted off as she stared. The apartment had an open floor plan, and almost the entire west wall was window. It overlooked the ocean.

“That’s the other reason I live here,” he said. Apparently the coffee craving wasn’t too strong yet, because he stayed beside her.

“That has to be one of the best views in the city.”

“I think so.”

She tore her gaze from the sea and skyscape and looked around the apartment itself. There was a long, sleek couch covered in a beautiful pale leather . . . and in newspapers, magazines, and books. The dining table was some rich, dark wood. What she could see of it, that is. Everywhere she looked she saw beautiful things. And clutter.

“It’s not as tidy as you’re used to.”

She glanced at him. That wasn’t a hint of a flush riding those elegant cheekbones, was it? “Who would have guessed? You’re a slob.”

He scowled. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s a mess.” She turned and put her arms around his waist, smiling as she laid her head on his shoulder. “But that’s okay. Under the mess it’s a beautiful place.”

He pressed a kiss to her hair. The arms he slid around her were hard with tension as well as muscle. He cleared his throat. “So what do you think—could Harry be happy here? There’s lots of room.”

Oh, shit. He wasn’t really talking about Harry. She swallowed. “I don’t know. He couldn’t get outside from here. He’s been on his own a long time. I’m not sure he could adapt to being penned up inside all the time.”

He didn’t say anything, but his body remained tense. Unhappy? Hurt? She tilted her head back to look at his face and found his eyes, dark and grave, waiting to meet hers. “Maybe we could try him here for a little while,” she said. “See how it goes.”

“Good idea.” He used both hands to smooth her hair back from her face and dropped a kiss on her mouth, lingering long enough to make it more of a promise than a peck. “You ready for coffee?”

Her laugh was a trifle shaky. “Sure, why not? Uh—mind if I clear a space on the table?”

“My piles are organized, even if they don’t look like it. Scoot them to the other end, but keep them separate.”

She saw what he meant when she started moving the stacks of papers. This wasn’t the random mess of advertising and charitable solicitations; it was quarterly reports, correspondence, and other business-type debris. “Looks like you need an office,” she said, sitting down and opening Croft’s briefcase.

“I’ve got one. I prefer to work out here.” He set a mug by her elbow and sat across from her. “I do work, you know,” he said dryly. “I manage the Rho’s investments for the clan.”

“You oversee everything?”

“Not all by myself.” He was amused. “I have an excellent assistant, whom you’ll be meeting soon. Also two secretaries and managers for the individual properties. We keep a very expensive accounting firm busy and have a legal firm on retainer.”

“So where is this staff of yours?”

“They’re clan, so they live and work at Clanhome. The last few days haven’t exactly been normal. Usually I spend about half my time there.”

Okay, that made sense. It also underlined how little she really knew about him.
Never mind,
she told herself. That could wait. It would have to. “Here’s the material on Harlowe,” she said, taking a file from Croft’s briefcase. “We have his social security number, checking account number, that sort of thing. Can you do something with that?”

“Something, yes. What am I looking for?”

“Connections, things that don’t add up, properties he owns. Does he have a house or business in Oceanside, for example, where he met Croft and Karonski? Anything else up that way? We’ve only his word for it that he was coming back from L.A. yesterday.”

“It will take awhile. What will you be doing?”

“Calling a friend to ask a favor. Then I’m going to ride the elevator, maybe take a little walk.” She met his eyes squarely. “We have to know, Rule. We have to find out what the limits of the bond are.”

He took a deep breath, exhaled sharply through his nose. “Of course. And I have to get over the idea that something will happen to you if I let you out of my sight. But wait until my people arrive. If you go too far and keel over, it would be nice if someone was there to catch you.”

TWENTY-SIX

LILY
called O’Brien. She thought he might be willing to pass on what he’d learned from Therese’s murder scene, and he was, though first he gave her a hard time about having “gone over to the dark side.” Apparently the whole department knew she was in trouble with the captain but was working with the Feds. Cops were terrible gossips.

He agreed to fax her a copy of his report. She gave him Rule’s fax number, disconnected, and headed for Rule’s home office to wait for the fax. It was every bit as messy as the great room. For some reason that made her smile.

According to Max, if Therese had been killed by a telepath rather than a sorcerer, the killer had probably been on the scene. Eyeball range, he said. Without a spell guiding the power, the killer would have needed to see his victim. He could have stood in the doorway and slashed her up without getting blood on himself.

Lily was hoping to find something to back that up. It would be good to know for sure if they were dealing with a rogue sorcerer as well as a mad telepath. Cullen Seabourne, maybe. He could have had his mind messed with. Hadn’t he told Rule not to believe him in that odd message?

But nothing in the crime scene evidence gave her any new ideas. She’d gone over it twice by the time Rule’s people arrived—two brawny young men, including the redhead Lily had encountered twice before. The older man with watchful eyes was Walker. And Crystal, Rule’s assistant, a short, squat, sixtyish woman who looked disconcertingly like a bulldog—heavy jaw, square head, thick lips.

Lily hoped her astonishment didn’t show.

“Glad to meet you,” Crystal said in a gruff voice that suited her face if not her name. She didn’t sound glad. She spared Lily the briefest of glances before returning her attention to Rule. “Nettie wanted me to tell you that she’s making progress with Croft, but Karonski will need to be treated by a coven. Something about the degree of trust involved. Can’t say I understood, but that’s what she said.”