Darlene watched him go, then lowered her voice. “You know this was a pro job, right? Harper didn’t do this on her own. Someone wanted her out.”
“I know,” I said. “But who?”
Darlene tilted her head. “We had that client a couple weeks ago. The one who paid so much money for her. Remember? The cameras were wonky the entire time. She blew him; they talked but we couldn’t get the conversation because of bad audio. I know you remember.”
She was right. I remembered that fucker. I asked Harper about him, but she acted nonplussed about him, so I blew it off. Should have trusted my instincts.
Darlene continued. “The VIP suite log showed it was a Mr. Rodgers who’d left a huge tip and bugged out without so much as a fingerprint on a glass. At the time, I’d written it off as a rich pervert’s night out.”
I turned to Rage. “Pull his receipt. Get his card info. Pull the camera footage for the club for the entire night. Then I want club footage gone over for the days before that night. Find out if he was watching her, or if he had a witch helping him.”
Rage nodded, chin-to-chest. “On it.”
The security tech returned with a ziplock of stained velvet. Darlene took it, inhaled, and closed her eyes. She murmured something in that strange witch language, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickled.
“She’s alive,” Darlene said. “And she’s moving fast. Someone’s got a vehicle, maybe even a plane.”
“Can you trace?”
She grinned. “Always.”
I watched her work, thinking about Harper out there, running. Wondered if she was scared, or if she believed in whatever fairy tale had been promised her.
Mostly, I thought about the guy who’d had the nerve to cross me. I imagined his face, the shape of his skull, how easy it would be to break every tooth in his mouth.
Darlene finished the spell, tucked the velvet into her purse, and turned to leave. “You’ll have your answer by morning,” she said. “If she leaves the country, I’ll know.”
Black smoke started pouring from her purse as she walked away. She let out a startled yelp as she tossed it off her shoulder.
“Dammit!” She opened her bag. Everything in it was covered with a green glowing goo.
She raised her eyes to me. “Sorry boss. It seems I won’t have an answer on Harper’s location in the morning or any other time. Whoever this witch is, she has put a powerful protection spell on her that prevents scrying or tracking. If you want to find Harper, you’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.”
“FUCK!” I wanted to break bones.
I turned back to Rage, who was sweating bullets onto the keyboard. He looked up, face pale as death.
“If I don’t get her back,” he whispered, “what happens?”
I leaned in, let him smell the bourbon and the old blood on my breath.
“If you don’t,” I said, “I’ll feed you to Maltraz in pieces. Starting with your tongue.”
He nodded, throat bobbing, and turned back to the screens.
I stood there, watching the monitors, waiting for Harper to appear again, even as a part of me knew she never would.
But that was fine.
Because the next time I saw her, it would be on my terms.
And there would be no one left to save her.
Chapter 10
Harper
The jet’s stairs dropped with a hiss and a shudder. I blinked at the gravel-paved tarmac, watched the shadow of the wing cut a blade of darkness across my bare legs, then braced myself for whatever came next.
