Trace of Magic (12 page)

Believing that had kept me safe my entire life. A traitorous voice whispered,
but what if Price is different
? Could I risk it? Taking a risk had left Taylor with a broken heart. That same risk could leave me enslaved or dead. I couldn’t afford to be stupid. Yet here I was all snuggled up and happily being stupid.

“What was in the case from the safe?” I asked, needing a change of subject.

“I didn’t look. Figured I’d wait for you.” He paused. “You aren’t going to let this go. Balls to the wall to find Josh, is that about right?”

“I promised Taylor.”

He sighed. “I thought so.” He tipped me onto my back and looked down at me. In the gloom, I could barely make out the angles of his face or the slight shine of his eyes. He leaned down and kissed me, slow and hard. My toes curled. I gripped his arms, clenching tight. He lifted up. “I’m not letting you get away,” he said and kissed me again. At the same time, I felt the frigid cold of a tab on my neck. I stiffened and he pulled away before I could bite his tongue off.

I clenched my teeth, fury spinning through me.

“Riley?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I won’t argue.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I agreed to work for you. I’m not running out on you. You could have trusted me.”

“Maybe we both need to work on that,” he said, sliding down beside me and propping his head on his elbow. He ran his fingers over my cheek and across my lips. “Maybe I did it to protect you.”

I snorted. “How is it going to do that?”

“If someone takes you, I’ll come find you. I promise.” He bent and kissed me again. “Trust me.”

“Said the spider to the fly,” I murmured, fighting to hold onto my anger.

He went still. “I mean it, Riley. No matter what happens, or whatever else you think, believe that. I will come find you. Do not burn this one off.”

I shivered. “I’m not planning to get taken. At least, not by someone else.” I put my arms around his neck and pulled him to me. Pretty cheesy, I know. But I was feeling reckless, and something in his intensity made my insides turn to liquid. I wanted him again. Bad.

He didn’t hold back. His hands moved over me with an eagerness that set me on fire. I could never trust him, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t call him mine for a few hours.

Chapter 11

SEVERAL HOURS LATER, we got out of bed and showered and had a steak breakfast before we tackled the contents of Josh’s safe. This time I sat on the couch, tucked firmly against Price’s side. I wouldn’t have pegged him for a touchy-feely type. I didn’t tend to be either, but this was pretty damned nice. If I were a cat, I’d have been purring.

“Corbin Nader works for Westchester Bank,” Price announced suddenly as he unzipped the case. Inside was a metal box. He pulled it out of the sack. It was locked.

“Why are you looking for him?” I asked, when it seemed like he wasn’t going to say any more. “You said there was a missing woman.”

He nodded and got up to fetch a pair of pliers, a lockpick kit, and a pocketknife from his desk drawer. “She went missing nearly six weeks ago. She told her friends and family she was going on vacation to an island in the South Seas where she wouldn’t have cell service and not to worry if they didn’t hear from her.”

“But they did worry.”

“Her ex-fiancé started asking questions. He thinks there might have been foul play.” He sat down and started tinkering with the lock.

“What do you think?”

“I think he’s right. There’s no record she ever left the States. I found her passport in her apartment. She did take clothes and toiletries, so if she was kidnapped, they meant for her to be comfortable. If she did a vanishing act on her own, the question is why. She’s an heiress and the senior financial officer at Westchester Bank. She has a great life and every reason to live it. Her family isn’t saying much. I think maybe there might have been a ransom demand, but if so, they haven’t paid, or the kidnappers want more than just money.”

“What does Nader have to do with it?”

“His name was in her datebook. He was one of the last people she met with before she vanished. But when I went to look for him, he’d cleared out, too. Fast, like he was seriously spooked. That was about a week ago. I was hoping you could trace him, but I don’t know that you can find anything now.”

The letter from Nader to Josh was sitting on his desk. I hadn’t touched it again. It was enough for me to get a trace from. I couldn’t tell Price that. “Wait. Why would he go to Josh for financial advice if he worked for a bank?”

Price shrugged. “I wondered that myself, though maybe he preferred to keep his personal business separate from the job.”

It sounded reasonable enough. “You said this woman had an ex-fiancé. When did that happen? Maybe she’s just licking her wounds, getting over a broken heart.”

“She ended the relationship. I doubt her heart was even involved,” he said, scowling at the lock.

“And yet he is still in love with her. Poor guy.”

He glanced at me. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s worried about her. He’s aware she’s gone missing. I mean, he reported her, not her family. That says he’s still got it bad for her.”

Price shrugged dismissively. “Maybe he’s just a good guy.”

“How long were they together?”

“A year, give or take.”

“He’s so not over her.”

“Sure he is. He’s seeing someone else.”

I snorted. “That doesn’t mean anything. I bet he’s nursing some serious hurt for her, hoping she’ll come back to him. He’s still in love with her. The girl he’s dating is just for comfort.”

“I don’t think so.” He slapped the box down hard on the table. “Dammit.”

“Let me try.” I pulled the box onto my lap with his lockpick set. It wasn’t very heavy. I shook it. Several somethings moved inside. I examined the locking mechanism. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen before. The opening looked like two crisscrossed lightning bolts surrounded by a circle. “That’s a hell of a key.”

Price had slouched against the back of the couch, watching me from beneath lowered lids. He looked pissed. “We might have to cut it open. I’ve got a Sawzall in the garage.”

“Give me a few minutes. Got a paperclip?”

He fetched one from his desk. I unbent it, then took a pair of needle nose pliers and bent a circle into one end. When it sat flat on the table, the long end stuck straight up in the air. I pushed it into the outer ring of the lock, adjusting it a little bit bigger before it fit.

“Hold this for me,” I said.

Price leaned against me. He smelled good. I resisted the urge to nibble his ear, but my heart started thumping and heat pooled in my belly. I really had a bad case for him. Nothing I couldn’t cure with a bottle of whiskey and a few pounds of chocolate, I told myself firmly.

He held the wire ring in place. I took the picks and started feeling around inside the lock. There weren’t any pins, at least what I expect pins to be like. Instead, there seemed to be a smooshy surface inside. I wasn’t sure if I was going to need one, two, or four tension wrenches. I studied the lock some more, and then I got a really stupid idea.

“Just a minute,” I said and handed him the box. I unplugged a floor lamp and cut the cord off at the base.

“What are you doing?” Price demanded.

I peeled back the insulation of the cord, exposing the wires. I twisted them together, plugged the cord back into the wall, and then grabbed the box from him and set it on his desk. “You still need to hold the ring inside. Hold it with the pliers so I don’t electrocute you.”

“This is not safe,” he said, grabbing the pliers and coming around to insert the paperclip ring in place. He laid a throw pillow on the box and gripped it.

“Safety is overrated. Ready?”

I didn’t wait for the answer. I jammed the exposed wire into the center of the two lightning bolts.

The box vibrated, and I felt a surge of magic. I didn’t have a chance to warn Price before a shockwave slammed into me. It tossed me against the window. My feet left the floor and my back and head smashed against the glass as I dropped to the floor like a sack of dog kibble.

My vision went spotty and then black. I opened my mouth, but my lungs wouldn’t inflate. I fought against panic. After what seemed like eternity, I sucked in a sobbing breath. Pain radiated from the back of my head down my back. My elbows hurt. I rolled onto my knees, holding my head between my forearms like I was bowing to Mecca.

“Riley?”

Price sounded like he was underwater. Or maybe it was me.

“Huh?” That was about all I could muster. I heard thumping sounds of him moving.

“Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh.” In order to make that convincing, I pushed myself up to my hands and knees. Something tickled my nose, and I swiped it with the back of my arm. It came away smeared red. I had a nosebleed. I grabbed the windowsill and hoisted myself upright.

My vision was starting to clear. Or rather, color came back but everything else was blurry. A yellow light pulsed brightly to the side, making my head hurt worse. “Can you turn the light down?” I raised a hand to block it.

“You’re bleeding again.” Price caught my upper arms and guided me to his desk chair. “You really can’t afford to be losing so much blood.”

“I didn’t actually
want
to get shot or have a nosebleed,” I said.

He peeled his shirt over his head and handed it to me. “Press this to your nose. I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared and returned with a warm washcloth. He rubbed it over my ears and down the sides of my neck. He pulled away. Rusty pink colored the pale green terry cloth.

“Let me see your nose.”

I lowered my hands and let him finish cleaning me up. He tipped my chin up and examined me. His expression was grim. More like smoking angry. I glanced over my shoulder at the windows. I hadn’t broken anything. I looked back at him, raising one brow. “I’ll buy you a new shirt, if that’s what’s bugging you.”

“You could have gone through the window. You’d have been cut to ribbons. If that didn’t kill you, the fall would have.”

“I didn’t and I wasn’t,” I said. Either I was beginning to get used to this almost dying thing, or my brain was tired of reacting to it. “Anyhow, it paid off,” I said, gesturing at the box and the source of the yellow light filling the room. “We can find out what Josh was protecting.”

“This is exactly why you should stay out of this. I can’t protect you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

He made a disgusted sound, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Dammit, Riley. You don’t belong in this mess.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “I have to do this. I promised Taylor.”

“How did I know you’d say that?” He sat on the edge of the desk. “Fine. But do me a favor and stop getting hurt.” He bent to lean over the box, careful not to touch anything. I rolled the chair forward and peered inside.

On top, hiding the rest of the contents, was a square envelope with my name on it written in Josh’s handwriting. I frowned in shock. What the fuck?

Of all the possibilities I’d envisioned, a letter addressed to
me
of all people had never occurred to me. I reached for it without thinking.

Price grabbed my wrist. “Wait.”

“For what?”

He grimaced. “You see any trace?”

He was asking about potential spells, not evidence of who’d handled it. Given that that sort of trace should already have faded for me.

I opened up to it, despite the fact that I could barely focus through my headache. Ribbons of Josh laced the box, with a few fainter lines of two or three other people. Probably from whomever he bought it from or whoever had set the magic spells inside. Josh had no abilities of his own. There was no sign of any magic besides the light that shone out of it like a beacon. I wonder how long it would be before that died, if ever.

“I don’t see anything but the magic of that light. That doesn’t mean anything, because if the spell isn’t activated, I can’t see it anyhow.”

“Comforting,” he said dryly.

“Can I read my letter now?” I asked, tugging out of his grip.

“It could blow up in your face.”

“Paper doesn’t hold magic. You ought to know that.”

“Maybe.” His mouth twisted. “Just be careful.”

“I’ll try not to get a paper cut.” I took out the letter. Underneath was a lumpy brown burlap sack.

I sat back and lifted the flap of the envelope, holding my breath. Price had infected me with his groundless caution. Nothing happened. Inside was a folded card. The cover had a tracery of pearl in one corner. Very refined and stylish. I flipped it open.

Josh’s writing was tight, like he tried to scrunch all he had to say into as tiny a space as possible. Price stood back, folding his arms over his chest and letting me read it privately.

Riley:

If you’ve found this box, then it means that I’m dead or captured and Taylor’s asked you to look into it. I’m sorry. I wish I could have warned you to stay away, but I couldn’t. Now it’s too late.

Just then Price’s cell phone gave of a sharp beeping sound. He looked at the screen and his face turned glacial. He raised it to his ear. “Price,” he said as he walked out the door.

I had wondered how long it would be before his Tyet connections caught up to us. Or maybe Price had already been talking to them, keeping them updated.

My hands tightened on the card, crushing it. I took a breath, trying to slow my heart. They weren’t knocking the door down yet. So far Price hadn’t turned me over to them. That reminded me of the tab. I touched it. The magic burst from the box hadn’t destroyed it. I wiped a hand over my forehead. My life depended on Price right now, and I wasn’t at all sure he was planning to keep me safe, despite his promises. Or even if he could.

I drew in a shaky breath and let it out slow and returned to Josh’s note.

The FBI approached me almost a year ago. Someone had been embezzling money from several banks and funneling it through investment firms to launder it, Franklin Watley being one. I was asked to perform forensic accounting to see what sort of trail I could pick up. They didn’t give me or my bank a lot of choice, so with the blessing FW’s CEO, I took on the job.

At first it was simple enough. I found what I expected—laundering, skimming, credit card mining, and fraud. But then a few months ago the FBI gave me keys to some safety deposit boxes around town. They got them in a raid and told me to check them out. Most contained drugs, money, jewelry, and that sort of thing. But there were a few that had other things. I don’t even know what they are. All I know is that ever since the moment I found them, I’ve been hunted by the Tyet. Whatever they are, they are too dangerous to keep, yet I can’t give them to the FBI. My contact is Special Agent Sandra Arnow. She would do anything to snap the Sparkle Dust trade and break Tyet control of Diamond City, including sacrificing innocents. She thinks any means is justified by the ends. Right now, the only thing I can do is keep digging and hope I don’t end up buried in my own hole.

This box contains everything I’ve discovered. These are little better than jigsaw pieces. It isn’t much, but if anyone can find out about them, it’s you. Sorry. I know I’m not supposed to know.

I know I don’t have to tell you, but I’ll say it anyway. Don’t trust anyone. Watch your back. I’ve just put a target on you, and everybody will be coming for you. Tell Taylor I love her, even though I don’t deserve her.