Page 9 of Mortal Heart

“I agree,” he rumbled.

Wonder of wonders, she thought dryly. She’d begun to think he intended to argue every point with her, just because.

But what to do about Mireille? Arkady hummed as she pondered some options. One of them could stay at the bar while the other took the girl in the trunk to safety, but her brain had fixated on the idea of teaming up with Ronan to track Ace down and their quarry might disappear if they took too long to go after him. So they needed a quick way to sort this out and start their hunt.

“Other than an attraction to shitheads, does Mireille have brains?” she asked.

He seemed to consider her question. “Yes,” he said finally. “She needs to find her way, but she’s smart. And under all that attitude, she has a kind heart.”

“Good. So we have one girl who needs a reason to find her strength, and another who needs help.” Arkady leaned against the car near the broken passenger mirror. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

He stared at her. “You’re not serious.”

“Do you know how a girl who’s been beaten down finds her strength?” she countered. “She gets a chance to be the strength for someone who needs it. Two birds, one stone, and we’re off to find Ace before that trail goes cold. We’ll come back for the ex.”

He eyed her.

She sighed. “I don’t want your paycheck for watching Mireille or turning over her ex. I’m not hurting for money. I’m between cases and itching for a fight.”And besides, I want to know who and what you are, she thought. No better way to accomplish that than watching him in action.

“I didn’t think you wanted money,” he countered. “I was wondering whenyouwere the beaten-down girl who needed to find her strength.”

His words hit her like a slap. “Fuck you,” she said coldly. “I’ve never been weak.”

The moment the words came out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back. She’d just given away way too much because he’d caught her off guard.

“I didn’t say you were weak, Miss Woodall. That was your word, not mine.” Once again, he tossed her the keys to the dead men’s stolen car. “What’s your plan?”

He might not be a gentleman or anything close to it, but he’d changed the subject rather than continue to needle her in a sensitive spot. So he was an asshole with at least a shred of decency.

“Mireille has a car?” she asked.

“A little one.” He jerked his head toward the Pelican. “Parked around back.”

“Good. Go bat your eyelashes and get her to leave work early. I’ll get the girl out of the trunk and meet you out back in a few.”

Ronan made a rumbly sound. “I do not bat my eyelashes.” His tone sounded oddly formal, as if he’d not only been offended, but made some kind of pronouncement from on high.

“I don’t carehowyou get her outside, Your Majesty,” Arkady said irritably. “Just do it.”

“I am to be addressed asO Great and Mighty One, but I forgive your ignorance.” Now he was mocking her openly. “You give Alice such orders?”

“I don’t have to. Alice is smart enough to know what to do without being told.”

Chuckling, he strode purposefully toward the bar’s front door. She scowled at his back as he walked.

He must have sensed her stare, because he paused about fifteen feet away. “Enjoying the view of my posterior, Miss Woodall?” he asked without turning around.

“Hardly. I’ve seen lots better.” She deliberately turned her back to him and ignored his laugh.Go to hell, O Great and Mighty One, she grumbled inwardly.

Once Ronan went back inside the bar, she took out her phone and sent a text to Alice.Can you send Ghost Boy to me?

Her phone buzzed about fifteen seconds later.Alice: Malcolm will be on his way shortly. What’s up?

Arkady: Need his help with something. Your garden hungry?

Alice: My garden is ALWAYS hungry. Delivery or carry-out?

Arkady chuckled. Alice’s backyard carnivorous garden certainly came in handy for body disposal.Carry-out. Malcolm will give you the deets.

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