All three of them open their doors before I have the chance to open mine. “I should have known that wouldn’t work,” I mumble.
Patting my breastbone, I feel the lump of my necklace under my shirt. It does a whole lot more than work as a barrier for my mind, it’s also imbued with protection spells straight from the MBI archives that are so secret, they are inaccessible until you graduate from the academy. Even then, they are strictly monitored.
“What are you doing?” Remy angles himself so he’s in front of me when I try to pass him.
“My job,” I tell him and move to the side again.
“I’m not letting you walk up there. I don’t even know what the fuck is going on.” His eyes are a little wild, almost panicked.
Dad ignores us and unholsters his weapon. It’s most likely loaded with nonlethal rounds, but they are still strong enough to disable most, unless they are loaded with illegal defensive spells. “Put your hands outside of the vehicle,” he demands.
Nothing happens, and Dad gives the instructions again, this time louder with a little more edge in his tone. After a brief pause, I see a hand reach out of the window, then another.
“Open the door from the outside,” Dad shouts. Keeping his gun in his right hand, he uses his left hand to pull thin iron cuffs from his belt. The metal is deceptively strong, even though it looks delicate, but more importantly, it will block the wearer from casting any spells or using their natural abilities while wearing them.
After giving the man in the car several more instructions, which he follows, Dad extends the cuffs out to his side and wiggles them in a clear call for assistance. I try to push past Remy, but Grayson jogs up to Dad while Remy blocks my path.
“You’re really not going to let me do my job?” I snap.
Dad looks at Grayson, then back at me. “Let her go. She knows what she’s doing.” Dad jiggles the cuffs in his hand again.
I finally push past an irritated Remy and avoid Grayson to grab the cold metal from Dad. “MBI agent,” I announce as I approach the guy lying face-first on the ground after all Dad’s instructions. “Put your hands behind you and lace your fingers together.”
The man does as he’s told, not even looking over his shoulder to acknowledge me as I approach. “I want a lawyer,” are his first words.
“For a failure to yield at a traffic stop?” I try to make light of what he’s done. Maybe it will get me more information. “Lift your arms please.” A little niceness can go a long way too, and I’m all about using the tools at my disposal.
That has him turning his head and looking at me. I meet his eyes, keeping my expression calm. After a brief second, he lifts his hands a few inches off his back with his fingers still laced, allowing me to slip one of the cuffs easily over his wrist, and then the other, barely even touching his skin.
Once he’s secured, I step back and ask, “Do you need help getting up?” The man rolls over to his side and moves smoothly into a sitting position. It’s not his first time in cuffs, if I had to guess.
“You going to pick me up all by yourself?” He looks me up and down and gives me a little bit of a flirty grin, but his eyes are flat and cold.
“Why’d you run?” Dad demands before I can answer, then he reaches under the guy’s armpit and assists him to his feet. Once he’s standing, I can take in his presence better as Dad pats him down for weapons or spells. He’s a few inches taller than me and wider, but nowhere near close to the size of the guy from the library. His dark suit has a few scuffs and some debris from the ground, but it looks clean and well fitted otherwise. His shoulders are relaxed, as is his jaw. The only thing that gives him away are his eyes. The hue is a soft brown, but they are as flat and as lifeless as I’ve ever seen.
“Lawyer,” the guy repeats, not even bothering to look at Dad.
“Sure, right after I figure out exactly what I’m charging you with.” Dad hooks his hand in the man’s inner elbow and tugs until he’s frog-marching the man back to his truck. He opens the rear door for him and demands, “Have a seat.”
The guy ducks his head and slides smoothly into the back and looks straight ahead. The brief once-over he gave me has been the only show of character, and it was probably faked to get a response from me.
Dad reaches into the front of the truck and unhooks his radio from the dash. “I need a squad car with a cage on Highway 37, near the Hasting place, north side of the road.” Once the static clears, he gets a response.
“Officer Moore en route. ETA seven minutes.” The static picks up again, and Dad replaces the handheld on his dash.
Grayson, Felix, and Remy have all migrated over to Dad’s truck, and they are taking turns examining the man and me. It’s the first time they’ve ever really seen me work or anything close to it, and I feel a strange sense of pride. Dad trusted me to get the man locked down, and I did it. Even though the guy presented with no problems, you never know what’s going to happen, so the kick of adrenaline that fired up my system is still bouncing through my veins. I can think of a lot of ways to use it, none of them appropriate for our current circumstances, considering my dad is here and he has a suspect in custody, but that doesn’t stop me from fantasizing.
I bet the back of the SUV is big enough for at least two or three of us if we really tried. We’ve made do with smaller.
Hexes, witch! Can you not handle your sexual impulses?I hear Percival before I see him.One would assume that finding the dead man’s companion would momentarily curb your urges,the little prude chastises.
“Oh shut up. I’m not doing anything about it, am I?” I glance at Felix to gauge his reaction, knowing he can hear Percival. This is so embarrassing, but Felix is a total gentleman and pretends he can’t hear my mink calling me a slut puppy.
Once my familiar is visible, I take a few steps closer to him and grate out, “Can you not comment on that kind of stuff, please? It’s not like I can control my biological reactions.”
I suppose,he agrees with a sigh, as if I’m asking so much of him.I do forget how unrefined human senses are. To me, I’m just stating the obvious.I do believe there was in insult in that statement, however, I’ll take it if it gets him to shut up about my sex life—or lack thereof.
Now that I’m not so focused on my mortification, I can concentrate on what Percival said. “You know this guy?” I ask, using my head to gesture to Dad’s truck.
