“Nice and easy now, bitch. I don’t want to have to shoot you.”
Lu froze. It was not fear that held her motionless, it was the hyper-alert stillness of a predator.
She turned her face his way, watched him walk out from behind the tangle of trees—where we should have seen him, should have sensed him. The concealing magic rolling off him made it obvious he had more than just this trick up his sleeve.
Lorde growled and took several steps forward to put herself between Lu and the man. The dog’s ears were back, and her deep bark gave a hint of her ancestry as a guard dog.
Lu’s amber eyes hardened to stone. “Hunter.”
“Call off the dog,” he said, aiming the gun at Lorde’s head.
Lorde barked again, showing strong, sharp teeth.
“To me,” Lu commanded.
Lorde stiffened, then reluctantly backed up to stand next to Lu, pressed against her side, both of them crouched as if ready to attack.
“I don’t believe I introduced myself.” The man’s voice had a bit of the snake in it. A bit of the reptile. Coldness coupled with patience. A spider confident in the deadly strength of its web.
“My name’s Hatcher, and I work for someone very interested in you. Very interested in the things you find.”
The gun in his gloved hand did not waver. It was a Glock, a big thing sure to leave holes large enough to slow Lu down. They might not kill her. Not one or two bullets, but if he unloaded the clip into her at close range, she could bleed out.
If he shot Lorde, the very mortal dog would die instantly.
My heartbeat picked up, fury washing sickly hot, then shockingly cold over me as I stood in front of that gun, inches away from his face.
“Put down the fucking gun.” I was loud, and I knew how to throw my anger like a fist.
The hunter’s head jerked slightly, and his eyes narrowed. He heard me, or maybe he just felt the cold hatred in my words. Either way, he knew I was right there.
He knew I was going to kill him if I had the chance.
“Even if your companion can influence the physical world,” Hatcher went on like he was having a front-porch chat over tea, “I can guarantee this house will be reduced to rubble in exactly five minutes unless I get what I want.”
He was not lying, I could tell from his heartbeat.
“You’re blowing up the house?” I said.
“He’s going to blow up the house?” Stella said. “I have to warn Dot. Dot’s in there, Brogan. My sister’s in there right now!”
“Go. Go!” I said. Then, “Lu he’s not lying.”
Lu didn’t move, but I knew she heard me. Knew she could probably tell he wasn’t lying from the beat of his heart, too, from the steadiness of his hand, from the sharp dilation of his eyes.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“The journal. Go on. Pick it up.”
“No,” I said. “Don’t, Lu. Don’t. It’s a trap. It has to be.”
Lu hadn’t moved yet, and I was torn between keeping my eyes on the asshole in front of me and watching the woman I loved behind me.
“I give you the journal, and you just walk away? No hard feelings?” Lu didn’t sound afraid at all. She sounded bored. “You know I don’t die easy. I don’t give a damn about that house, and I don’t hand over investments to people who threaten me.”
“I know a bullet in the head of that dog will change your mind.”
Again, not lying. He was just shooting the shit, out here on a nice day ready to bury a bullet in my dog’s brain, ready to fire off a tight enough cluster to kill my wife—and if not kill her, damage her in a way that could be permanent.
