Page 48 of Mortal Heart

“I wasn’t aware my facial expression could lead you to that conclusion.” He kissed the back of her neck and enjoyed her little shiver, though it did nothing to help limit his arousal. “I think it’syouwho needed to sit on my lap.”

“Delusional as always,” she scoffed. “You’re not all that, O Great and Mighty One.”

“On the contrary, I’m all that and more.” He stroked her thigh. “I look forward to proving it.”

“I look forward to letting you try.” She let him rest his hand on her leg but continued with her online search in a way that made it clear she had other priorities at the moment. His body, however, chose to ignore both her tone and distracted attention. She had to be well aware of his arousal. He got the impression she got some kind of twisted pleasure out of the situation. Despite his discomfort, he had to admit he liked her twisted streak.

He peered over her shoulder as she browsed photos of the tower. “Any luck identifying the residents of the top floor?”

“Not yet. I may have to get home to my laptop and run a search in one of the databases Alice and I spend a fortune each month to access.”

“Speaking of which,” he asked, “What made you become business partners with Alice?”

“I used to work for the Vampire Court, as I mentioned. When I quit my job, I needed another one. I like being a PI, and the last thing I wanted was to compete with Alice. She didn’t exactly jump at the suggestion, but luckily after she gave it some thought she decided partnership sounded like a good idea. Lord knows that woman needs more people in her corner. I don’t know anyone who’s as much of a magnet for trouble as her, except me.”

“I can’t disagree with that assessment.” He moved his hand to her hip. “I’ve always preferred working solo, but the team approach to crime-solving clearly has its benefits. Alice has a ghost sidekick. I have—”

“I have four blades within easy reach,” she warned. “So the wordsidekickhad better not come out of your mouth in reference to me.”

“Perish the thought, Miss Woodall.”

She stuck her phone into her back pocket. “Well, I can’t find anything on who lives at the top of Carmody Tower, so we need to go back to my place and get some answers. After that, we’ll have to figure out a way to get into the penthouse of the single most exclusive building in town.”

“We’re going to need a good plan,” he agreed. “And possibly different clothes.”

“You think?” She snorted. “They’re not likely to let us in looking like this. And as much as I hate to say it, your bike’s cover has been blown. More to the point, it’s not the kind of vehicle that’ll be welcome at the tower. We need different wheels too.”

He didn’t like the idea, but she was right. The Harley attracted too much attention. It had been perfect for their visit to Nyx, but now they needed something else.

“If we need something respectable, nondescript, and dull, we could use your car,” he said.

She elbowed him hard enough in the ribs that he coughed. “Watch how you talk about Joanie,” she snapped. “She may look cute, sweet, and innocent, but she’s feisty when it counts. Kind of like me.”

He coughed again, this time for an entirely different reason. “That in no way describes you, Miss Woodall.”

“Fourblades, Ronan. Not that I’d need one to end you if it came to that.” She hopped off the bike and climbed back on behind him. “Back to where it all began,” she murmured in his ear. “To the Pelican, to get my car. And then we’ll plan how to storm the castle.”

They had a lot of strategizing to do if they wanted to reach their target. Ronan had stormed a number of actual castles in his time. Every one had presented unique challenges and nearly impossible odds, and caused him serious bodily harm…and he’d enjoyed every minute of it. And yet he had to admit storming another, even a metaphorical one, sounded like even more fun when she suggested it.

“Let’s go.” Arkady wrapped her arms around his waist. “I don’t know about you, but I ain’t got all day.”

Smiling to himself, he drove them off into the night.

* * *

“It can’t be done,” Arkady proclaimed, her chin on her fist as she leaned on her kitchen counter and swiped through the photos of Carmody Tower’s interior yet again.

“You’re right.” Ronan drained the last of his coffee and leaned against the counter next to her. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, how do we do it?”

She rolled her eyes and poured them both another cup of what she’d referred to as “thinking juice.” He accepted his refilled mug and tapped it against hers in a mock toast.

“To recap,” she said, ticking the items off on her fingers, “to get into Carmody, we have to get past what looks like serious security both in the lobby and underground garage. Not only are there guards, there are cameras everywhere. According to the website, the penthouse floors have a private elevator accessible only from the garage or lobby. The elevator opens directly into those apartments, but each has a second zero-clearance door that’s locked unless opened by someone inside the apartment, or a key fob. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the records show there arefourapartments on the building’s top floor, three of which have an adult female resident. Any of them could be our target. So once we get up there, westillhave to figure out which one’s secretly a demon before we shake her down for the names of the people who work for her and send her soul to wherever demons go when they croak. Andthenwe have to get out again.”

“Demons don’t have souls,” he said absently. He slid her phone closer and looked through her photos once more. “That’s what makes them demons.”

“I was under the impression it was their smell.” Sipping her coffee, she leaned against his side. “And their barbed genitals.”

He grimaced. “Yes, that too.”

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