“I’ll let you know when I need protection.” It was not so much a rebuff as a statement.
She was his equal. He was not sure how he felt about that. Yes, he did. He gritted his teeth, fighting the impulse to kiss her. Instead, he headed toward the staircase and Zacharias’s office.
Rowan clicked on a small pinpoint flashlight to guide their way up a metal staircase, climbing slowly to keep their steps from echoing over the vacant warehouse.
Zacharias’s office wasn’t what Rowan had expected. Instead of mahogany, brass and priceless artwork, there were used metal filing cabinets, a desk that looked like it had been purchased at a garage sale, and mismatched chairs. The view out the office window was of a seedy-looking parking lot instead of Puget Sound or the Cascade Mountains. The scene painted the picture of a struggling business, and AJ had said there were inconsistencies in the accounts.
On paper it looked like Zacharias’s company was barely making its payroll. Rowan believed that Lyons would be proud of his daughter. From the details in the information she’d collected in a short period of time, it was obvious she’d paid attention to how her father investigated cases.
In AJ’s undercover work, she’d learned Zacharias might not spend his money on his office space or expensive suits, but he liked his toys. She’d overheard him bragging about the yachts, the seaplanes, and the sports cars he kept in his daughter’s name. Either his business was more successful than it appeared, or he had something on the side, something he didn’t want exposed.
It was tedious work and a mountain of files to sort through. Rowan checked Zacharias’s desk and Morgan started searching through the filing cabinets. Hours after they’d started, scarlet rays of sun stole through the blinds, announcing the dawn. They were running out of time. Sorsha would have to pull her people from their posts any minute now. He tried the bottom desk drawer. It was locked. Reaching for his knife, he pried it open. Jammed in the drawer were files with handwritten labels.
Without warning, the office door banged open. Three armed men dressed in black rushed into the room, pointing automatic weapons. Why hadn’t Sorsha taken care of these thugs, or at least alerted them? Had she been overpowered as well?
Rowan had suspected that if Zacharias was working with Vlad, they would have hired paranormal mercenaries who could overwhelm the vamps. Rowan didn’t want to consider the possibility that the vamps might have betrayed him and Morgan. He needed to start trusting.
The security guards opened fire, showering the room with metal rain.
Rowan took a bullet in his shoulder as he dove toward Morgan, cradled her in his arms, and pulled her behind the desk. “Stay here.”
“You are hurt.”
“Stay,” he repeated.
Like a fire that erupts from an explosion, Rowan rose from behind the desk, sending a wall of flames toward his attackers.They screamed and fell back, but they kept firing. The sound of the bullets melded with that of more footsteps on the stairs—Zacharias’s reinforcements were on their way.
He could hold them off, maybe even defeat them, but risking Morgan’s life was something he wasn’t prepared to do.
She was pulling the files out of Zacharias’s desk drawer and stuffing them into her jacket. “What’s the plan?” she said over her shoulder.
“I’m working on it.”
An explosion blew the windows out as flames ravaged the warehouse.
Sorsha, the side of her face burned, and her clothes torn, burst into Zacharias’s office with two vamps at her side. “What the hell are you two still doing here? We have the warehouse timed to blow in a matter of seconds.”
Morgan touched Sorsha’s face. “That looks painful. What happened?”
“Got too close to the sun when I was downstairs making sure none of Vlad’s goons escaped. Now, unless you and Rowan can regrow body parts that are ripped from their sockets, I suggest you run for your lives.”
There was not a trace of fear in Morgan’s voice. “I like your plan.”
In one fluid burst of speed, Rowan grabbed Zacharias’s chair and hurled it through the window. He shielded Morgan with his body as glass blanketed the room. The surprise tactic worked, stunning the guards for a split second, giving Rowan the time he needed. He caught Morgan’s hand and they raced for the opening and jumped through the window to the ground.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Escaping from Zacharias’s security guards was easier than Morgan had thought. She’d forgotten how fast Rowan was when he summoned the power of his Wizard fire. The more pressing issue lay ahead. Had they been followed to Sorsha’s house on Capitol Hill?
Before entering the warehouse, Morgan had shared her concern with Sorsha about a safe house in the event they were attacked. She hadn’t wanted them to return to her apartment, as she was afraid of being followed, placing AJ in danger. Sorsha offered her place, and since the sun was up, the vamps were underground.
She set her tea down on the large mahogany table in the center of the bedchamber where she had brought the injured Rowan to tend his gunshot wound. He was resting comfortably, but her concern remained. He took too many chances with his life. In many ways he was as reckless as the immortal vampire Sorsha.
A breeze from the open window disturbed the crystals of a solid gold chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Floor-to-ceiling windows opened onto a parklike garden where a pair of peacocks unfurled their feathers. The birds were an expression of Sorsha’s wealth. She wasn’t just wealthy; she was easily in the top one percent of the world’s richest.
“Where are we?” Rowan asked, pushing to a sitting position on the four-poster bed and lightly rubbing the bandage over his shoulder. “The last thing I remember is entering a mansion that looked like it had been built by one of Seattle’s founding fathers.”
“Make that one of the founding mothers. Sorsha has lived in Seattle for a while. You passed out soon after we arrived. You are a Wizard with superhuman abilities to heal quickly, but theamount of blood you lost from the gunshot wound took its toll. I’ve cleaned and dressed the wound, but you should rest.”
