“Just my job.”
“Your job?” As far as she could tell, he hadn’t done anything more than jump-start her car. “What job?”
“Helping damsels in distress, of course.”
“Oh.” For a second there, she even believed him. Then she saw his grin and rolled her eyes. “Sorry. Guess I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Never mind my question. Thank you. I really appreciate your help.”
“Anytime.”
And with that, he turned around and headed for his Ferrari. The view of him leaving proved to be just as enticing as the eyeful she’d gotten while he’d been under the hood. With some effort, Tracy managed to stifle a sigh.
Maybe the cosmos was on her side after all. Certainly this anonymous hunk of a Good Samaritan had added a bit of joy to an otherwise rotten day. And who knew? If the rest of the evening went as well, she might actually recover from her little incident with Leon without being scarred for life.
Taylor looked at his wife—he still loved the sound of that,
wife
—and smiled. Zoë was always a bundle of energy, but right now he thought that if she let herself go, she’d literally bounce from one wall of their little kitchen to the other.
“Thanks for helping,” she said, blowing him a kiss.
“No problem.” He checked his watch as he leaned back in his chair. “I can always fit saving the world into my busy schedule.”
From the living room his friend and partner, Hoop, guffawed. “Don’t tease her, Taylor. She can beat you up.”
Hoop’s fiancée, Deena, scowled at the game board, then invaded Madagascar. “She can beat us
all
up,” Deena announced. She aimed a grin Zoë’s way, and Taylor had to smile. The blonde and Zoë had become fast friends when Zoë was an elementary school librarian. And Taylor had Deena to thank in part for his first date with Zoë. “Of course, she can’t beat us at Risk,” Deena added. She nodded toward the board. “Hoop and I are creaming all of you.”
“Who can beat who up?” Lane asked, appearing in the living room after putting her son Davy down for the night. Since her landlord had decided to convert her apartment complex to condos, Taylor’s foster sister and her child were temporarily camping out in the guest room. Lane and Davy had played their own parts when Zoë had saved the world recently. Taylor shuddered, remembering how close both his foster sister and her son had come to danger. Fortunately, Zoë had been there on each occasion and had saved them. It had taken some getting used to, but loving a superhero had certain benefits.
Lane held up a hand. “Wait, I know.” She flashed a grin Taylor’s way. “
Zoë
can beat
you
up.”
“It’s not being beat up I’m worried about.” Taylor laughed. “She might decide I have to sleep on the couch.”
“Speaking of...” Lane aimed for the huge living room couch and dropped, clearly exhausted, onto one of its cushions. She motioned toward the game board. “Is it my turn yet?”
From his perch on the couch’s armrest, Hale mumbled something.
“What?” Taylor asked, even though he could guess what his brother-in-law was saying. The man was always making wisecracks at the expense of mortals—even his sister’s friends. It drove all of them nuts, especially because they all knew that, deep down, he was a good guy.
“Nothing,” Hale said, all innocence. He let loose a rip-roaring sneeze and immediately disappeared.
Deena looked up for a second before looking back at the game board, unimpressed with Hale’s vanishing act.
“Stupid allergies.” Hale’s disembodied voice floated out of thin air.
Zoë rolled her eyes and, before Taylor even had time to blink, his wife had leaped across the room and nestled into his lap. It had taken him a while to get used to how quickly she could move, especially now that her skills were developed, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You’re not sleeping anywhere but my bed, mister. Those are the rules.” She planted a light kiss on his cheek.
He tightened his grip around her waist. “Wouldn’t want to break the rules.” Their eyes caught, and he remembered all over again why he loved her.
“Uh, people?” Hale’s voice broke through Taylor’s Zoë-induced haze. “I came here to find out what you learned while I was watching Tracy. Can we get to work and desist with the public displays of affection?”
“It’s our house,” Zoë murmured. “It’s not public at all.”
“Then desist with the private displays, too,” Hale said, shimmering as he materialized again. “Call me crazy, but I thought that since you folks called yourselves private investigators, you might have done a little investigating.”
“We call ourselves investigators?” Hoop asked, to no one in particular. “Damn. And here I thought we called ourselves psychic crime fighters.”
Deena groaned and threw a gamepiece at him. He just laughed as it bounced harmlessly off his head.
“My brother’s getting surly,” Zoë said, her voice dreamy against Taylor’s ear. “And Hoop’s getting goofy.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Taylor murmured back.
Hale’s exasperated sigh echoed through the room, and Taylor and Zoë laughed.
“Guess it’s time to give him the full report,” Taylor said.
Finally
. Whenever Zoë and Taylor got lost in that mush-zone, Hale wondered if he would ever manage to yank them out of it. Part of him even envied them, but that wasn’t something he particularly wanted to think about.
Especially since Tracy Tannin’s face kept popping into his head.
He’d gone to that lot solely to familiarize himself with the girl in case they were right and she’d inherited the belt. She hadn’t been wearing it. And while that certainly didn’t mean anything, now he found himself thinking about her at the oddest moments. Worse, he found himself thinking that if she
didn’t
have the belt—and if the mission ended up calling for no interaction between him and Tracy Tannin—he was going to be sorely disappointed. Especially since the adorable mortal might just prove to be the cure for his recent lack of interest in the female of the species.
Right now, though, he just needed to know what Taylor had discovered. “Anytime this year would be good,” he called into the kitchen, scowling at his brother-in-law who was still cuddling Zoë.
Taylor kissed Zoë’s ear, then slid her off his lap. “Let’s go calm down your brother,” he said. Taking her hand, he tugged her into the living room toward the couch, the pair looking perfectly comfortable together. Two halves of a whole. The unexpected thought cast a wave of melancholy over Hale, and he cringed. Just because he’d never experienced that kind of closeness didn’t mean he needed to start feeling all mushy. He was here on a job, and once it was over he could get back to his vacation and do a little female grazing. Somehow, some way, he’d get himself back into the groove.
“Okay, brother mine,” Taylor said, as he moved to the computer hutch. Hale got a glimpse of the monitor as Taylor sat down in the desk chair. The Venerate Council’s “News In Brief” page was up. The council had its own website, with a stellar search engine that accessed all sorts of supposedly inaccessible files. Being a superhero only went so far. They were living in an information age, after all, and crime-fighting superheroes needed all the information they could get. Taylor wasn’t a Protector, of course, but considering he was partnered with Zoë, Zephron had given him permission to access the site. Apparently Taylor had been using the search engine, and Hale could see the large point headlines from across the room:
Mortal-Protector Treaty talks continue. Controversy rages! Click here for point/counterpoint!
Rumors abound
—
Has Aphrodite’s Girdle been found? Follow this link for the latest news and commentary
.All Protectors with undercover assignments in the mortal world are required to complete Form 789-A(5)
—
Statement of Undercover Operations
—
and to file same with the Mortal-Protector Liaison Office. Click here to download applicable forms and instructions
.
Hale made a mental note to get his Form 789 in on time as he waited for Taylor to quit rummaging through the papers on his desk.
“Okay,” Taylor said. “Listen to this.” He held up a computer printout and started reading. “Beloved silent film star... blah, blah ... survived by her granddaughter, Tracy Tannin ... yadda, yadda ... Okay, here we go—Tracy inherited the house and everything else.”
With one easy jump, Hale hopped to the top of the computer hutch and sat there, his feet swinging in front of the monitor. That Tracy had been the only real beneficiary was excellent. Spending some quality time with the woman was something he could handle just fine—and now she was even more entrenched as their primary lead.
“Do you mind?” Taylor asked.
“Sorry.” Hale dematerialized, clearing Taylor’s view. “This means that if Tahlula still had the belt when she died, now it’s Tracy’s.”
“Righto,” Taylor agreed.
“I take it Tracy wasn’t wearing the belt this afternoon,” Zoë said.
“Nope,” Hale agreed. “Besides, if she were, it would have shown up on the tracking device. According to Zephron, it hasn’t blipped again.”
“So, we don’t know for sure that Tracy has it,” Zoë said.
Unfortunately, Zoë was right. He looked down at Taylor and materialized.
“So what’s our next step, Mr. Investigator?”
“Way ahead of you.” Taylor tapped a few more keys as Zoë wandered over. Hoop and Deena stayed put in front of their game. Lane got up, but as soon as she did, Zoë turned to her.
“You might as well go check on him,” she said.
Lane’s shoulders sagged. “I just got him put down. What’s up now?”
“
He
is. Or he will be.”
Lane’s mouth twisted. “You’re sure?”
“You know that little noise he makes before he wakes up with a nightmare?”
“He’s making it?”
“Sorry. You want me to go check on him?”
Lane just shook her head. “No thanks. It’s all part of mommy duty. You’ll get there soon enough.”
Hale’s stomach tightened, and he examined his sister’s face, wondering if...
“Quit fretting,” she said to Hale as she noticed his expression. “Not now. But hopefully someday.”
Surprisingly, Hale realized he was slightly disappointed. Maybe he wasn’t ready for fatherhood—or even husband-hood—but uncle-hood might be fun.
“Hale?” Zoë squinted at him. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he said, his voice gruff. Hopping Hades, what was wrong with him? Frustrated, he kicked at the side of the computer hutch. “So what have you got in mind?” he demanded, glaring at Taylor.
“You move in,” the mortal said.
Hale balked. “Excuse me?”
“I said—”
“Move in?” Hoop interrupted. “Why not just let Superjock play the invisible man?” he asked, twirling a Risk game-piece between his fingers. “He can snoop all around her place and no one will be the wiser.”
Hale wasn’t too keen on the Superjock nickname, and he shifted his glare from Taylor to Hoop.
“What? You can’t do that? You guys got Protector police or something?” Hoop asked.
“There’s that whole treaty thing,” Deena answered. “They’re not allowed to break into someone’s house and start rummaging through their things.” She cocked her head, then looked from Zoë to where Hale was perched. “Are you?”
“No.” Hale agreed, half-wishing they were allowed. He turned back to Taylor. “What did you mean I ‘move in?’”
Taylor pointed to the monitor, which Hale couldn’t see from his perch on the hutch. “Today’s classified ads. Tracy’s looking for a roommate. Move in, and suddenly you’re all set to form that strong, devoted bond of Mortal-Protector friendship that Zephron told you and Zoë about.” Taylor paused. “And that I know you’re so looking forward to.”
Hale scowled at Taylor, sure his brother-in-law was being sarcastic, but the mortal just smiled innocently. “Not happening,” Hale said.
“The bond, or the moving in?”
“The moving in,” Hale said. “For the good of the mission, I’ll get the girl to bond with me. I’ll make that connection. I’ll do whatever it takes to persuade her. But believe me, I don’t need to move in to do that.”
“Uh-huh.” Taylor’s voice was dubious.
“She only has to bond with me,” Hale said. “Not me with her.” Which was fortunate, since he didn’t intend to share any sort of emotional bond with a mortal. The fact that he’d become friends with these mortals was simply a testament to how much he loved Zoë. And his sister’s little in-crowd of mortals was unique, anyway. Hale put up with them, but that didn’t mean he was suddenly opening his arms to the friendship of the whole mortal population.
Frustrated, he hopped off the hutch and moved to the sofa, flopping back against the cushions. He couldn’t keep the kind of distance he wanted if he was living on top of her. Not that being
on top of her
would be all that unpleasant, but that wasn’t his mission. No, for some inexplicable reason, Zephron had picked Hale to befriend the mortal. To make nice with the girl, get her to trust him, and then persuade her to give up the belt.
Still, Zoë and Taylor were probably right. Moving in would help. But Hale just couldn’t stomach it. Eating breakfast together and sharing the living room television ... well, those were intimate moments. Getting-to-know you moments. Exactly the kind of moments Hale had no in interest in having with a mortal. “Ah, hell,” he muttered, letting his head fall back against the sofa. He’d never thought he was wrong for a mission before, but this time ...
What had Zephron been thinking?
“Not that I’m agreeing with my brother’s logic,” Zoë said, looking from him to Taylor, “but we don’t even know that Tracy has the belt. It would probably be premature for him to try and be her roomie.”
“Exactly,” Hale said, latching on to the excuse. “The belt only blipped on the monitor. We don’t know who has it. It’s probably Tracy, sure, but it could just as easily be in a box at the Salvation Army.”
“Any reason why we don’t just
ask
her if she has the belt?” Deena wondered aloud. “And if she does, then just ask her to hand it over.” She looked from Hale to Zoë to Taylor in turn. “I mean, unless there’s a rule, shouldn’t you try that first?”