“Maybe she ran off with Michael,” I say lightly.
The other pixie doesn’t laugh. “You must not have known Phoebe well if you think so.”
“No?” I try to keep my voice light, but my luck is sending a chill through me.
She shakes her head. “No. She hated humans. Wouldn’t have been seen dead with one. Just wasn’t her thing. She came here for the other fae.”
“Oh.” My mind races trying to process that information as the other pixie tells me to stay safe and hurries from the restroom.
Phoebe didn’t care for humans, and now she’s missing, but she arranged a date with Michael Murphy. She went missing around the same time as Michael’s murder. I see three possible scenarios here. One, the two aren’t related at all. Two, Phoebe tried something new, but when Michael came on too strong, she killed him, then tried to frame an unseelie for it and vamoosed before she could get caught. Or three, someone Phoebe was with committed the murder. Perhaps another fae that didn’t appreciate the attention Michael was showing her.
Hmm. I need to talk to Seven. Phoebe hated humans, was the last to be seen with Michael, and Michael is dead. That’s officially enough to be suspect in my mind. He needs to know.
I finish in the bathroom before heading back to the lounge to tell him what I’ve learned. I stop short when I almost collide with a dark figure coming from Seven’s direction. “Excuse me,” I say, automatically. Then I lift my gaze and stop breathing.
Agent Donovan! My heart pounds, and panic pumps through my veins until I realize he doesn’t recognize me. I reinforce my illusion. What the fuck is he doing here? Then I remember his call and that he said he’d come. Is he looking for me?
His dark perusal skims over me. “You’re new.”
I give a curt nod. I try to walk around him but he steps in front of me. “How about a ride?” He reaches out and strokes my wing. I tug it from his grasp before the blue iron in his system can threaten my illusion. My stomach wants to turn inside out at his touch. The way he’s looking at me makes my skin want to crawl off my body.
“I’m taken,” I say in a voice that is not my own. I point my chin in Seven’s direction. Donovan turns to the side and glances that way too. I’m surprised to see Seven’s not alone. He’s standing in front of the couch with his back to us, and his father of all people is ripping into him. For a second, I worry about catching Chance’s eye—the last thing I want is to run into that man again—then I remember I don’t look like me. Fuck, they’re really going at it. Chance has Seven by the collar, and he’s shaking him. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but it looks like it’s escalating.
Donovan takes a step away from me when he spots the two men, seemingly put off by the idea that I’m with the leprechauns.Good.
“Maybe next time,” he says, raking me over with a lecherous gaze. I press a hand into my churning stomach. He strides past me toward the back stairs and descends to the dance floor where humans and fairies alike gyrate to the music below, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Over the railing, I watch him disappear into the sea of bodies. Everywhere patrons grind against each other, or do their best to pick up fae at the bar. Pixies, wrapped in illusion, attempt to make themselves more desirable to lure in the best humans.
None of them realize there’s a FIRE agent in their midst who dreams about making them scream.
I jump when a hand wraps around my upper arm. Seven. He plants his hand on my waist and starts guiding me toward the back of the club, moving fast. “Where are we going?”
“I need to talk to you,now.” He looks furious. He moves faster toward the exit.
“Seven, I can’t run in this dress!”
Luck bubbles in my veins. Suddenly the skirt of the dress gives, and I increase my stride to match his. We’re down the back stairway and out an emergency exit before I can say another word. He opens the car door for me.
“What’s going on?” I stop short of getting in and fold my arms.
But Seven isn’t paying any attention to me. His expression is dark, menacing. I’ve never seen him so angry. “Can’t do this to me. Not a kid anymore,” he mumbles.
“Seven, what the hell is going on!”
Emerald eyes flash, and the intensity almost makes me stumble. “Get in the car. There’s something I have to tell you.”
ChapterSeventeen
Luck is great, but most of life ishard work. — Iain Duncan Smith
Reluctantly, I slide into the leather seat, feeling painfully uncomfortable about everything that’s happened. All I want to do is go home and have a hot cup of tea, but as soon as I close the door Seven starts the engine and races in the opposite direction of Wonderland.
“I thought you had something to tell me,” I say, buckling my seat belt. It would be highly unlikely that a leprechaun would get into a car accident, but call it a habit from living among humans.
“I do. But first we need to get somewhere safe. Somewhere he doesn’t have people watching.”
“Who? Your father?”
“Who else, Sophia?” He glances toward me, and his lip curls in displeasure. “Drop your illusion. It’s unsettling.”
