I giggled watching him sarcastically reenact a lady holding up her dress with an unnaturally toothy grin. “All the while, with a smile that’s as bright as the sunrise.” Lochlainn shook his head. “No one’s that happy. I don’t trust her. And don’t even get me started with the prince—Thumper.”
“First of all, critical much? God forbid someone be happy,” I said, giving him a pointed look. “And secondly, I’m sorry—did you say his name isThumper?”
Eostre Land was suddenly becoming first place on my list of curiosities.
Lochlainn rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask how he earned thatname for himself. Just do me a favor—stay away from him. He’s as pretentious as his mother.”
Interesting. I had a feeling Eostre Land was going to be one hell of a ride. Was it the kind of ride that ended with laughter and windswept hair, or the kind that left you dangling, screaming for your life because the seatbelt came undone? Which one—I guess we’d find out . . .
“All right, let’s pack it up,” Lochlainn said, extending a hand again, waiting.
No. I wasn’t done. I could do this.
All week, my inkling had been gnawing at me. A low, incessant whisper urging me to train at every opportunity I could. That all-encompassing pull tugging me toward something important. Which, today, happened to be Lochlainn’s secret hidey-hole. I’d wokayen up to the smell of gunpowder on my mind and an itch to blow shit up.
“Not yet.” I shook my head. “Let me try the disco-tech simulation.” I glanced toward the flickering training grounds, then back at him. The most pathetic pout overtook my face, begging. “Please, Loch . . .”
I wasn’t sure when we’d crossed into the nickname stage of being friends, but it feltcomfortable.
A glare. Then, he withdrew his hand and ran it through his beard with an exaggerated sigh.
“Ya know you’ll get your arse handed to ya in there, right?” he said, arm muscles tensing, folding over each other as an eyebrow raised in challenge.
My bottom lip puckered out even farther, turning on the puppy-eyes.
“Ugh,” he grumbled, “Fine, but one condition—” His index finger hovered in front of my face. “Use your magic.” Each word slowly annunciated.
I felt eight again. Back to the time I somehow convincedmy foster mom to take me to the arcade at the mall. Turned out, she thoroughly enjoyed monster games as much as I did. Hands down, one of the biggest wins of my childhood.
I still believed learning au-natural was more beneficial. But for the glory of playing in the shiny disco range, I’d compromise.
“Yay!” I did a little shimmy and clapped my hands. Breenawasrubbing off on me. “Okay. Deal!”
Lochlainn watched me. A small smile tugged the corner of his lips as he opened his mouth, about to comment when?—
“Lochlainn!” Keeffe busted through the door, panting. “Where the feck have ya—” His gaze landed on me and he immediately halted. A pink blush crept into his cheeks. “Oh.” He shifted awkwardly, eyes ping-ponging between Lochlainn and I. “Hey, Carwynn. Sorry—didn’t mean to interrupt . . .anything.” Teeth met inner cheek as he flashed Lochlainn an apologetic smirk.
Keeffe wore his Luckman attire—tan pants, tucked white shirt, suspenders with gold clasps. Sharp, but wrinkled enough to prove he’d sprinted here. Dark red hair was wind-tousled with one stubborn lock clinging to his forehead.
“Oh yeah.” I lifted the gun toward the ceiling, waggling my eyebrows. “We were about to get real hot and heavy,” I said, my words swimming with sarcasm.
Did he seriously think this was some kind of date? That would’ve been awkward on so many levels, especially since Finley and I have gottencloser.
Lochlainn shook his head, exhaling hard.
“Out with it.”
“We’ve found the—” Keeffe hesitated, side-eyeing me. “Spoiledgoods.” The words were vague, but his eyes were throwing a full monologue at Lochlainn.
Lochlainn stiffened at my side.
“I’ve got the men with me,” Keeffe added. “Figured you’d want to . . .go over things.” He didn’t give anything away, but the delivery was quite the opposite of covert.
Poor guy. He’d make a terrible spy. Completely missed the mark on the art of hidden messages. As if I’d believe there were some kind of panic over food poisoning in the Casino kitchens. Those drunkards would eat food off the floor if it even partially looked edible.
I narrowed my eyes.
“Translation: things are goingreallygreat in the drug Lord business, huh?”
