Adare ignored them, shoving his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans. With a gun strapped to his thigh and a pissed off expression, the Highlander looked even more dangerous than he had before, and that was saying something. “I’ve had it with pixie dust, unicorns, and rainbows. Let’s go find somebody to fight,” he said.
“Rainbows?” Sandy snorted.
“Fairies are nuts,” Adare muttered, reaching for a phone in his back pocket. “Who do we call to get this over with?”
Mercy faltered. She would’ve liked a few minutes with Logan after last night, but she was having trouble meeting his gaze. And she couldn’t talk to him in front of the others. Her timing always sucked with males. She sighed. “Go ahead and call the president.” It didn’t matter.
“Number?” Adare asked.
Logan was watching her carefully as she recited the digits of the local number. Then she smiled at Sandy. “It’s dumb that he tied your hands. Let me help you.” As casually as possible, she crossed around the table and headed for the sofa. The second she reached Sandy, she grasped her forearm. “Now,” she whispered.
Sandy gathered the forces around them, the air shimmered, and the world started to drop away.
A steel band around Mercy’s waist jerked her away from Sandy and fully back to this dimension. She yelped and struggled, fighting Logan’s hold. Crap, he moved fast. Way too fast.
Damn it.
He whirled her around and set her down on her feet—not so gently. Anger flushed high on his cheeks.
She gulped as Sandy disappeared from the room with a shimmer. “You can’t blame me?”
Adare moved for them. “What the hell? I stopped her from teleporting.”
“You have to be touching them,” Logan said grimly. “She let you bring her here so she could get Mercy.”
Adare winced. “One should never underestimate a fairy. Good lesson.”
Logan ducked his shoulder and tossed Mercy over it. Her stomach hit first, and then her head against his damn back. “Fae reinforcements will be coming. Get us out of here, Adare,” he ordered.
Chapter 24
Amusement creased the Highlander’s cheeks, but Adare wisely remained silent, wrapping his arms around Logan and Mercy and spiriting them away.
They landed at his lake with the afternoon sky dropping rain on the water. Enough with the rain, damn it.
Logan’s temper frayed. Although he’d finally slept, he had a serious case of blue balls. And the woman responsible for them wanted to disappear on him again. The effort it took to hold back fury made his muscles vibrate and his temples pound. So far this week he’d kept secrets from Zane, had lost both Sam and Ivar, and had failed to help Garrett heal from the Seven ritual.
And he was damn tired of being carted through time and space like a damn toddler. He set Mercy on her feet.
He grasped her arm and forced her up the walkway toward the cabin. “First, you’re going to explain to me what the fuck the problem is between your people and the Seven.” Shoving a branch out of the way, he waited until she passed before letting it drop back. “Next, you’re finding out where Sam and Ivar are being held.” When she tried to slow down, he increased his pace so she had to keep up. “Finally, you’re going to explain teleporting to me so I can figure out how the hell to do it.”
She jerked her arm free. “I do not take orders from you.”
He pivoted so suddenly into her, she would’ve fallen on her butt if he hadn’t caught her. “Wrong.”
“Last night doesn’t count.” She blinked and defiance filled her face.
Last night counted a whole hell of a lot. He growled. Low and dark and hard.
She gulped. “I would love to tell you about the Seven.” The dark red of her hair blazed, even in the muted light of the cloudy day. Raindrops dotted her pretty face, and his knuckles itched with the need to brush the water away. “But I need permission to do so.”
“From Niall?” he snapped.
“No. The president.” Mercy turned on her own and finished the trail, breaking free of the trees and heading to Adare’s cabin. It was not supposed to be their headquarters, but they’d already blown up two mountain strongholds and were out of options at the moment.
“Fine.” Logan marched next to her, pausing when he spotted Ronan and his mate, Faith Cooper, snuggled on a porch swing on the covered deck, blankets and laptops on their legs. Both were typing rapidly and somehow in perfect sync. It would’ve been gag-worthy if they didn’t look so right together. “Ronan?”
The vampire looked up. “We’re going through traffic cams in Scotland, trying to find any sort of clue to Sam or Ivar’s whereabouts.”
