I didn’t think that bastard was capable of loving people.
But things …
A handsome Latino man dropped off an open-top tan Jeep for us, giving me a wink as he tossed me the keys before he walked down the street, whistling with his hands in his pockets. I drove us across town to the bastard’s house, the house I’d refused to call home for the past few years.
We parked down the street, because I was certain Muller would have someone watching the house. When we climbed out of the car, I tossed some extra shadows on our faces, distorting our noses for any video cameras the Richie Rich’s in the neighborhood might have.
Malcolm pulled a pack of gum from his pocket and offered me one. I shook my head and he popped a piece of gum into his own mouth before he took my hand. We walked like tourists, under the canopy of ancient trees, stopping at each gate to peer in at the lavish homes. When we got near Claude’s, I whispered, “This is it.” I lifted my hand and killed the signal on the security feed, pinching off the tiny line of light that ran through the wires.
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the stone mansion through the gate. The place was empty, the lights were off, not even the maid’s car could be seen. It finally looked like the tomb it had always been.
“You sure?” my Icefire asked. “This is a pretty posh place. And it won’t look good. Muller will be even more convinced it’s you.”
“He might think that. Or, I can play it off like someone’s after me too.”
“Touche.”
“Do it. That place is nothing but a torture chamber,” I responded.
Malcolm nodded slowly, and touched the gate for a second, and I saw a tiny hint of orange start to glow on one of the bars. Malcolm let his fingers trail casually down so he could grab a little sphere in his pocket. He pulled out his chewed gum, stuck the tiny sphere onto it, and then pushed the entire thing against the glowing metal of the gate.
We walked down the block, continuing our faux gawking before Malcolm pulled my arm and we turned back, casually getting into our car.
Five blocks away, we heard the most beautiful sound in the world.
An earsplitting, hair-raising boom.
35
Grayson Mars called about ten minutes after the explosion. “What the fuck!”
Several firetrucks zoomed past us just then and I could hear Evan in the background asking, “Are they okay?”
“Put it on speaker,” I directed Gray. “We’re good. We just got some info that said we should destroy all of a certain ghostly someone’s belongings, so we did.”
Malcolm’s hand crept onto my thigh, and though I was driving and could only glance at him for a half a second, it was clear he was still riding the adrenaline rush of the bomb.
“How far away from that shit are you?” Gray demanded. “I want another car swap, dammit. Pull over. And change your hair color or something. Dammit all. You aren’t supposed to be the impulsive one, nemesis. Firefly’s the only one who’s supposed to pull that shit.”
His chastisement hit home. He was right. I had been impulsive. I’d had time to call them, tell them. I hadn’t. I’d been too eager to wipe the smear that was Claude’s soul off my shoe.
I turned left and gave him our location. “We’ll walk three blocks north, two south, and wait for our next pickup.”
“Fine,” his tone was short.
Before he could hang up on me, I jumped in with an apology. “Guys, I’m sorry. The bastard’s my Achille’s heel. I want to destroy him. And I know he wants the damn same.”
I heard Gray grumble and Evan took over the phone. “We just want you to be safe.”
That made my heart squeeze in a way that felt both good and guilty. Shit. “I know.”
“Jolly is going to go meet you.”
“What?” I started. He was supposed to do recon all day. I didn’t want him or Zavier anywhere near the funeral, and that was supposed to be my next stop. I still had about an hour until it started, but it was going to take me nearly that long to get there because I had to meander my way and check my six the entire time. Andros wouldn’t help me blend into a crowd. He was too damn noticeable.
Evan’s voice grew strained. “I want you to listen to him, okay? Promise me.”
Listen to what? Why did he sound choked up? What the hell was going on?
A black car with a driver arrived and took Malcolm, but only Malcolm away. He peered up through the window at me as the car pulled out and he ripped his fake mole off his face and I couldn’t help the foreboding feeling that settled into my stomach.
I saw Andros approaching from nearly a block away. His chest was still bare and it gleamed in the midday sun. He carried a water bottle in his hand, and acted like he’d just finished a run, stretching his triceps as he walked.
I was certain every woman within a three-block radius had stopped what they were doing to stare. What the hell was he thinking?
I shook my head and turned quickly, entering an alley. He didn’t need to be seen with me in public right now. Not with his record. Not with Muller after me.
The alley I took opened up on a little neighborhood park, and I quickly walked over to some trees, pulling my shadows down darker underneath their branches. By the time Andros joined me, I’d made the shadows so thick that it was hard to see my face.
Andros stepped under the canopy of the trees. “I’m pissed at you.”
“You all should be.”
He shook his head and I lightened the shadows a bit so I could see the disappointment in his eyes. I deserved the way it bruised me up inside. I took a deep breath. "I think you’re overestimating the potential of a ghost and underestimating Muller.”
His tone scraped against my ears and left my heart raw. I didn’t agree.
But then he said something that shocked me to my core. “You think that trick I pulled down in the Pinnacle is something I just came up with? Something I made up on the fly?” The anger in his voice was palpable, potent, red hot. He took a step closer until he loomed over me and I could feel the heat of his fury radiating off his body. “I knew how to hurt that fucker because Muller paid someone to do the same damn thing to me. Only difference was, that Tock stopped on a rewind.”
My lungs stopped working. I couldn’t breathe. At the same time, this giant, blinding ball of fury swept through me. My head filled with storm clouds and thoughts as jagged and crooked as lightning bolts went in every direction. My poor, sweet Andros. That fucking terror of a human being. The detective’s face flashed through my mind, his dark hair and arrogant look. “Why?”
“Cause I wouldn’t talk. I was small fry and he knew it. He wanted to catch the big fish, my boss’s boss. And he couldn’t get any of us to tell him. Muller strokes his ego off like a dick.”
It was a funny statement, but then again, it wasn’t—I didn’t laugh. I just stared solemnly up at him.
“It would be easier if you didn’t go to the funeral.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he kept talking. “But since you will, you need to be prepared," Andros' tone and face grew darker than my shadows.
"You think I’m gonna get caught?" His lack of confidence sawed a hole through my gut.