Читать книгу Masked Desire - Alana Delacroix - Страница 11

Chapter 5

Cormac paid little attention to the other councilors who came in to provide their alibis. His gut already told him what he needed to know.

Rendell was the killer. Looking for more money, Hiro had offered the forest to the other feyman, who had immediately seen an opportunity to thwart Cormac. A foolish and greedy thing to do, but that was the kind of man Hiro was. As if reading his thoughts, Oksana admitted to Michaela that she, no surprise, hadn’t liked her compatriot. “Trying to keep a united front with Hiro was impossible,” she said bitterly. “He would turn on you in a moment. His principles were as fluid as water.”

Turn on you in a moment, like he had with Cormac’s forest. Since Rendell was not one with a huge respect for human life, it was reasonable he would consider Hiro’s death an appropriate price to keep Cormac from returning to the Queendom. It ended the risk of Cormac ingratiating himself with Queen Tismelda before it even began. Cormac never would, of course, but Rendell was a courtier to the bone. Court politics would be his default—and probably only—consideration.

After Oksana took her leave, Michaela turned off her digital recorder and flipped through her notes, written in a compelling Chinese running script. Cormac considered her. She was as fresh as when they’d started, except her normally pale lips were even paler. Red lips might be the usual standard of beauty, but there was something about the way hers blended in with the skin that he found almost stunningly erotic. He wanted to see that lower lip crimson and full with desire.

“Curious.”

Cormac tore his attention away from her mouth. “What?”

Michaela capped her pen. “Oksana wasn’t frightened.”

He replayed the interview in his mind. Michaela was correct. “She thinks Hiro was specifically targeted as an individual, not a human.” Instead of congratulating his perception, Michaela bent and added a few more notes as he stared at the precise part in her black hair, straight as a sapling.

“I have enough here to get the teams started,” she said.

“They all hated him. You didn’t get anywhere.”

“What were you expecting? One of them to jump up and admit their guilt?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Not to mention that you’re still no closer to knowing why he was in your office.”

“An investigation takes time.”

She stood while Cormac watched her unabashedly. Michaela was slender and straight as a reed but when she stretched, her body curved to emphasize a waist almost narrow enough for his hands to span. That blue-black hair remained tightly coiled, and he wondered how long it would be when she took it out.

Get it together, Redoak. Michaela was a beautiful woman, but he’d always found her coldness a turnoff.

Didn’t he? Or was it a challenge he’d never thought to accept?

“I’m going to check in with the team and then go home.” She packed up her bag and double-checked the desk to see if she had all of her papers.

He followed her to the security office. She paused with her hand on the door and he heard the voices inside.

“It’s her. I’m telling you.” Nadia’s voice, an annoying mix of whiny and strident. Cormac winced.

“For the tenth time, that is Hiro. They look completely different.” Dev sounded exasperated.

Nadia snorted. “How can you tell? All Chinese look the same. Even their hair is the same.”

Beside him, Michaela stiffened.

There was a long silence and when Dev spoke again his voice was cold. “Hiro is Japanese. If you’re going to be ignorant, keep it to yourself.”

“Chinese, Japanese, whatever. Look at that security shot and tell me it couldn’t be either of them.”

Michaela must have thought this was a good time to interrupt, because she pushed the door open. Cormac came in behind her to see Dev’s poorly disguised fury and Nadia’s surly expression. Michaela didn’t mention what they’d overheard but went straight into updating her colleagues.

On the screen was a security shot of a figure in black coming in the main door, head down and with dark hair smoothly tied back in a bun. He was about to examine it closer when Michaela gestured him out the door.

“What a bitch,” he said conversationally.

“She is that,” Michaela agreed, to his surprise.

“You didn’t say anything.” He would have thought that Michaela would have taken the opportunity to lay down some home truths to the vampire. She was not a woman who shied from necessary confrontation.

“Dev handled it well enough that I didn’t need to.” She picked up her bag and touched the pocket where her keys were. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? “No need for good-byes.”

Her thin black brows knit together. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m your Watcher.”

“I know. You’ve watched. All day.”

He cocked his head curiously at her. Could she not have known? “I don’t leave your side, Michaela. Not until this is done.”

Her face said she hadn’t. He nearly rubbed his hands in delight.

She didn’t even bother to answer. Instead, she took her phone, made a call, and spoke without any greeting. “When were you going to tell me about Redoak living with me?”

She must have called Madden. There was a long silence. Cormac could hear Madden’s warm soothing tones, his vampire’s compulsion at work, and also knew by Michaela’s expression that she was not convinced.

Then she turned her back to him. “I don’t want him at my place,” she hissed.

Pause. “I’m not going to a hotel with him.”

Pause. “That’s not the point, Madden.”

Long pause. “Yes.”

Very long pause. “Right.”

Michaela hung up and Cormac leaned over into her view. “Your place or mine?” he asked innocently.

She took a deep breath and Cormac took a prudent step out of her strike range. “You’ll come to my apartment,” she said, having regained her calm. “Do you need anything from your house?”

“I keep an overnight bag in my office.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Prepared for anything?”

He nodded, deciding to take it as a serious question. “Yes.”

Cormac grabbed his bag as they passed his office and they walked in silence to the garage. He remained a few steps behind and watched Michaela’s straight back. Being her Watcher was turning out much better than he had imagined. He’d confirmed Rendell had the motive to kill Hiro—he would do anything to keep Cormac away from court—and he’d managed to get a rise out of Michaela.

She pointed her key fob towards her car and it unlocked the doors with a series of cheerful beeps. Then she made a careful tour of the exterior. Was she worried about her safety, or was this another manifestation of her excessively cautious self?

Cormac slid in as she checked the mirrors. “No need to be angry at me.”

“You don’t know what I was thinking.” She shoved the key into the ignition so hard that he winced as it jammed into the palm of her hand.

“Of course I do. You’re furious I offered to be Watcher. You think the council doesn’t trust you.” He considered this. “They don’t, but they don’t trust anyone.”

She drove onto King Street at a speed more suited to the autobahn than the busy downtown core. It didn’t matter; traffic ground them to a stop before she’d even gone twenty feet. Damn. They were enmeshed in the tail end of rush hour. More time trapped in the car, cooped up in a metal cage in this concrete valley.

“Might be faster to walk,” Cormac offered finally. “How long have you had this car?”

“Five years.” She paused. “Why?”

“No reason.” It was spotless and even had that chokingly chemical new car smell. He pulled the seat back and stretched out to relax as she chauffeured him around. It would be better if he had his eyes closed.

She stared straight ahead. “What was that about?”

“An observation about the speed of traffic.” Let her work for it.

“I don’t mean that and you know it. There hasn’t been a Watcher appointed for over a hundred years.”

“As I told the council, this is sensitive. You know it, Michaela. In fact, in different circumstances, I’m sure your fine mind would have been one of the first to suggest it.”

She inched the car forward and swore as the light turned red. “You decided you would be the best choice? An exiled fey?”

He put a hand on his heart. “Wounding but technically accurate. Who else would be acceptable? None of the others trust each other. I am the only one with no master. Or mistress.”

He said the last in an arch tone that made Michaela’s lips thin. She must know he was right. Every member of the Pharos had a dual role. The first was to make sure the Law was obeyed by every arcana and to punish transgressors. The second, and unspoken, role was politics. Pharos was the unofficial overarching council for all arcana. So secret that not even their rulers knew they were members, the councilors worked outside the official avenues to solve disputes that threatened to destroy the delicate balance of power between arcane groups. Secret though they were, there was a clear loyalty to one’s ruler and one’s race above all.

Cormac, as an exile, was beyond at least this level of local politics. The other fey didn’t even acknowledge him.

“I meant what I said about staying out of my way.”

“And I have.” He yawned and nestled back into the seat. “At least in public.”