Motor City Fae (4 page)

“It’s a promise.”

God help her, she believed him. “But you don’t have my number.”

He clapped his hand over his eyes, his shoulders shaking with self-deprecating laughter. “Ah, love, I’m a prime idiot.” He pulled another card from his pocket and a pen from the cell phone holder clipped to his belt and held them out to her. “Please?”

Shaking hands and the dim glow of her porch light made the number slightly less than legible, but he read it off when she handed it back and Meagan nodded dumbly.

“Remember. Anything at all, any trifle that makes you uneasy, I want you to call. Promise?”

More uneasy than she already was? Scary thought.

Still, she nodded and drew an
X
across her chest with one index finger. “Promise.”

He took the key from her unresisting fingers and turned it in her lock. “Good night. Don’t forget the alarms.” He leaned over, dropped a quick peck on her nose and shoved her gently through the door.

“Well, bard, have you completed your quest?”

“No, my queen.” He spoke into his cell phone as though his boss was across town instead of in a different dimension. The enchanted phone was one of the so-called perks of his job. In reality it was a way for Llyris to keep tabs on him.

“Time is not in your favor. You remember the punishment you face if you fail?” He pictured her as she spoke. Her silver-blond hair would be piled into some ridiculously elaborate arrangement as she lounged on her favorite divan. Her icy blue eyes would be narrowed and her inhumanly beautiful features would be drawn tight, probably with disapproval, since she couldn’t possibly be feeling something as pedestrian as fear.

“Of course.” The reminder made his palms start to sweat.

“Then find her.”

His jaw tightened. His queen was a stone cold bitch when she wanted to be. “I intend to, Your Majesty. I may have a lead, but complications arose before I could be certain.”

“You don’t have time for complications.”

Duh
. “Owain is here.” He sat in his car, a block down from Meagan’s house, watching. So far there had been no sign of trouble.

“Ah.” Static crackled over the line. Well, at least now the queen was pissed at somebody other than him. “I was unaware that he suspected your assignment. Do you think he knows the whereabouts of the woman?”

“I’ve no idea, Majesty. He may have been following me, or he may have been trailing the possible heiress. We were dining together when I saw him. He made no secret of his presence, though.”

“How vexing.” Llyris sounded more bored than vexed, but Ric knew there was some real stress behind her words.

“Is Lord Green Oak aware that Owain is in his domain?”

“He knows now.” The first thing Ric had done was call the local guardian, who had been predictably pissed.

The second had been to contact the queen. He took a swig of coffee, wishing it was something stronger.

“So Owain did not travel through the Detroit portal, nor did he follow protocol and inform the Detroit guardian of his presence. That means we can rule out coincidence. Inform Lord Green Oak that he is to maintain surveillance on the traitor. Your mission must not be compromised. You have four days left, bard. Do not waste them.”

“Yes, my queen. Are you sure, however, that there isn’t a simpler way to resolve the issue? An—accident perchance?” Ric didn’t care for playing queen’s assassin, but if it came down to a choice between that and wholesale war, he’d swallow his qualms and do the job. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“No. His heir is just as dangerous. Their faction is too powerful and Owain’s hold on each of his supporters is too strong.”

So much for that idea. It had been a long shot anyway.

Of course she’d investigated all the angles; she’d been handling court intrigue for over a thousand years. She’d probably already tried bribery, blackmail and every other means of persuasion to pull Owain’s supporters back into her camp. Ric ran his hand through his hair.

“With Owain’s heir in the le Faire seat, the council vote will still go in his favor and I’m sure he has members of his line secreted well enough that even you couldn’t find them all in time. Only if the election is tied can I cast the deciding vote and retain my throne. And a tie will only occur if you find Emery of Rose’s missing daughter.”

“And if she can be convinced to vote in your favor.”

The queen’s frigid silence was a palpable reprimand.

He could envision her eyes narrowing to slits, her thin lips pinching tight. “Precisely why
you
were given this assignment. Find her, convince her and bring her to me. Use any means necessary, but get her here.”

“Of course, my liege.” He almost bowed out of habit, but stopped himself in time. That would be stupid over a cell phone, even if she was watching. He also resisted the baser urge to flip her the bird. “I remain, as always, your humble servant.”

“Oh, cut the crap, Thornhill.” He winced. Where had she learned that modern phrase? Probably from him. One of these decades, he was going to have to learn to watch his mouth. “Go find me that girl!”

“You got it, boss.” He waited until she’d broken the connection to hit the end button. It was a good thing elves didn’t need to sleep much, because it looked like it was going to be a long night.

“How sure are you?”

“Not terribly,” Ric sighed into his phone a few minutes later. He was grateful that Aidan had known him too well for too long to mess around. The other Fae also had a more than vested interest in finding Emery’s missing daughter. Ric rubbed the bridge of his nose. He’d been in the human realm way too long. Elves weren’t supposed to get headaches.

“But you think there’s a chance?”

“I might be grasping at straws. She talked about her parents, but didn’t mention adoption. And there’s something about her that—I don’t know—calls to me. My intuition has never failed me before and right now it’s telling me that she’s the one.”

“Meanwhile, it would seem I’ve been elected to keep tabs on the villain of the piece.” Aidan’s tone darkened.

“Are you sure I can’t simply kill him? It’s long overdue.”

Ric laughed, but there was no real amusement in it.

“Now you sound like me. I asked Her Majesty the same thing.”

“And I take it she declined.” Aidan gave a chuckle as dry as Ric’s own. “Pity. Oh well, I can have him watched, probably. If he’s shielding as well as I suspect, it will be tougher, but I have some interesting allies in this place. You said he made no secret of his presence?”

“None. The bastard actually toasted me.” Ric knew he probably sounded like a sulky brat but he didn’t care. This whole business was making him crazy.

“If you really think this girl is the heiress, your job is to guard her. You’re sure she’s safe?”

“I’m at one end of her street. Greg is watching the other end.”

Aidan snorted out a laugh. “Hopefully none of her neighbors calls Animal Control.”

“I’m pretty sure he prefers doing surveillance with opposable thumbs and the ability to speak.”

Another chuckle, but Aidan’s voice grew serious. “If you think she’s really my cousin, you should probably bring her here. I had some business associates arrive tonight. Invite her to the party.”

Ric nodded thoughtfully. “That should work, if she doesn’t think I’m a complete lunatic after tonight.”
Or if
she isn’t too pissed off at me for dropping her like a hot
rock
.

“Show up with flowers and grovel. You’re a bard, for Lady’s sake. Convince her. And remember to tell her about the pool. Make sure she brings a swimsuit. Preferably a skimpy one.”

Red spots swam in front of Ric’s eyes for a moment until his frazzled brain got the message. “Right. Swimsuit. Faery mark. Got it.”

“Of course, if she is my cousin and you hurt her, remember I’ll have to kill you.”

“Bite me.” Ric wished he was sure his friend was kidding.

The insistent electronic chirping of the phone woke Meagan from the fitful slumber she’d finally fallen into several hours after Ric had dumped her on her doorstep. She pulled a pillow over her head, planning to let the machine pick it up, but as soon as it did, the caller hung up and apparently hit redial, because the ringing started all over again. Twice.

On the third set of rings, she gave in to the inevitable, reached out and grabbed the phone, knocking a lamp and a half-full glass of water off her nightstand in the process.

“Somebody better be bleeding,” she growled into the receiver.

“Would groveling be okay?”

There was silence on the line for a few moments as her semi-conscious brain tried to place the warm, sexy voice.

Maybe this was a dream. Judging by the way her nipples were tightening up, it was possibly even a wet one. Then it occurred to her that she actually knew that voice. “Ric?”

“None other.”

She shook her head to clear it, make extra sure it wasn’t a dream. “What time is it?” She peered at the clock, now tilted at a weird angle. “Why are you calling me at seven o’clock in the morning?”

She sat up and her leg bumped against something cold and metallic. Ah. She’d been so scared last night she’d taken her favorite softball bat to bed with her.

“To apologize?” Ric’s reply sounded like a question.

“You couldn’t have done that at a reasonable hour?”

“And to check on you.”

“Huh?” Did this have to do with his
lock your door
and set the alarm
rambling last night? “I’m fine.” Well, unless you counted being really, really cranky due to frustration and lack of sleep.

“Look, I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”

“Come in? Where are you?”

There was a pause. Then he cleared his throat. “Um—in your driveway.”

She crawled out of bed and crept over to the window, peeking out from under the blinds. Sure enough, there was the shiny silver Jag, sitting right behind her car. He must have seen her, because the lights flashed when she looked.

“Yes, Meagan, I saw you,” said the warm voice over the phone, as if he was reading her mind. “Can I come in? Please? I brought coffee.”

She couldn’t refuse him, damn it. He sounded too sincere and his kiss had been too darned hot. “Oh, all right. I’ll be down in two minutes.” She slammed the phone down and dragged on a pair of red running shorts, which probably clashed horribly with the orange and blue Detroit Tigers T-shirt she’d been sleeping in. She shook out her snarled-up hair and sighed. There was no way she was going to be able to untangle it without a shower.

Grabbing an elastic band, she pulled the curling mess back into a haphazard ponytail as she scrambled down the stairs. She paused in the bathroom long enough to use the facilities and brush her teeth.

“Only salesmen and other psychos are up this early. You’d better not be an axe murderer or anything,” she grumbled as she opened the door after disarming the alarm. “If you kill me, I swear I’ll haunt you and make the rest of your life miserable. Same goes if you try to sell me life insurance.”

He paused on the threshold, clearly fighting a laugh. “I hope that’s an invitation, of sorts. I come bearing gifts.”

True to his word, there were large take-out cups in both hands. A paper grocery sack with handles dangled from one wrist. He looked too good to be true, even dressed more casually than the day before. His jeans were well worn and fit perfectly, showing off more of his sleek physique than yesterday’s chinos. The dark green polo shirt looked as soft as silk and molded his chest like he was the model the designer had intended it for.

He was so well put together that she felt even rattier by comparison, damn it. No one should look that good this early.

“All right already. Come in, already. Sheesh, what are you, a vampire?” He was certainly good looking enough and weren’t they the ones who had to wait for permission to enter a house?

Nah, couldn’t be. It was a bright, shiny summer morning.
Yuck.

He gave her a brief, twisty grin. “No, merely a guy who knows he has ground to make up after running off on you last night.”

Her traitorous cat was twining about the man’s ankles, rubbing his head on Ric’s faded jeans.

She stepped aside to let him in and he handed her one of the cups. “Smells good. Too bad I can’t stand the stuff.” She handed it back.

His eyes widened in horror. “You don’t drink coffee?”

“Nope.” She sent him a nasty smirk, enjoying his momentary discomfiture. “Love the smell, hate the taste. Thanks for the thought, though.” She waved him through her tiny living room into the even smaller kitchen. “You go ahead and get started; I’m going to make some tea.”

Glowering, he preceded her into the kitchen.

“Things-You-Didn’t-Know-About-Meagan 101,” she announced, following him through the archway. She grabbed the teakettle off the stove, ran fresh water into it before putting it back on the burner. “Meagan hates coffee. Violently. Also, I am not in any way a morning person. At all. In my reality, civilized conversation does not occur before noon. Ever.”

“But you said you had an early meeting this morning.”

His height and the intensity of his presence filled the tiny room, crowding her, even though she was several feet away.

He didn’t seem to notice. He plunked the bag and cups on the table and dropped into a chair, looking as comfortable as if he’d been there a hundred times. He didn’t seem to mind when the cat hopped into his lap. He stroked the furry beast’s ear as though they’d been friends forever.

After setting the kettle on the burner she turned to glare at him, hands on hips. “I lied.”

“Okay.” That didn’t bother him either. Jeez, what would it take to get a rise out of this guy? She couldn’t handle him before caffeine, that much was certain.

She turned her back again to dig mug, strainer and tea leaves out of the cupboard, and spoke over her shoulder.

“The orange furball is named Calculus, in case you were wondering.”

The bastard laughed. “Why Calculus?”

“Well, cats are always so inscrutable, like they know all the secrets of the universe and you don’t. I figured that anyone who really knew stuff beyond the realm of human understanding would have to be a whiz at math.”