Page 23 of Mortal Heart

“Some scars have their own power.”

“Even if they do, that doesn’t mean you can’t take that power and make it your own.”

He blinked at her as if that thought had never occurred to him.

“That’s what passes for a deep thought tonight.” She chuckled. “Stick around—if you’re lucky, there’ll be more wisdom where that came from.” She picked up the shirt and jacket again and hooked her thumb at the door on the other side of the kitchen. “That’s the laundry room if you want to clean up. I’m going to shower so we can get back to work.”

His brow furrowed. “Where do you propose we go from here? The men we killed at the Pelican were demon servants, but we don’t know who they belonged to or whether the demon was part of this trafficking ring. And we didn’t get much from Mora to work with.”

“Since when has that put us off?” She handed him her jacket. “See if you can get this clean, would you?”

He rumbled. “Do I look like a laundry service?”

“No, but you look like a man who knows how to get blood off leather.” She grinned at his scowl. “Oh, and while I’m in the shower, find us a lead to follow. Bet you can’t.”

He pounced on her words, as she’d known he would. “What’s the wager?” he asked.

“Whenyou fail to find us a lead, you will make us coffee and dispose of our bloody clothes so they’ll never ever be found.” She considered. “Then you’ll come back and clean my kitchen and buy me a bottle of any tequila I want.”

“That’s pretty steep,” he mused. “Though I’ve never lost a wager and don’t intend to start now. That being the case, what do I get when I win?”

“Oh, something comparable.” Arkady smiled. “You like my mouth a lot, don’t you?” Her gaze moved to his belt and then lower. His body’s reaction to her stare was instantaneous and unmistakable. “Soifyou win—which youwon’t—I’ll let you decide what I do with mine.”

His brow arched. “I accept the wager, though I wonder if you really know what you’ll be in for.”

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea.” She gave him her most irritating smirk—the one that had historically led to numerous bar fights and one or two messy breakups. “I’ve faced some pretty terrifying things. Your kinks in no way scare me…but theydointrigue me.”

For the first time since they’d met, he laughed. He had a good laugh. She turned around so he couldn’t see her smirk turn into a smile.

“Laugh all you want, O Great and Mighty One.” She tossed her blood-matted hair and headed down the hallway. “You’re the one who has no idea what you’re in for. I’ll want my kitchen to sparkle like a lame-ass vampire whenever we’re done with this case.”

He was still chuckling when she shut the door to her room.

7

RONAN

For the firstfew minutes after she disappeared behind her bedroom door, Ronan was almost positive Arkady Woodall wanted to lose their wager.

But then again, he reflected as he washed up at the laundry room sink and pulled on a clean black shirt and jeans from his saddlebag, she didn’t seem like the type to like to lose—intentionally or otherwise—no matter how intrigued she seemed by what he might want her to do with her mouth.

After all, she’d asked him to clean her jacketandfind a lead, and he doubted he had very long to accomplish either. Some women might be a half-hour just showering after what they’d been through and then take that much time or more getting ready. He’d bet his Harley she’d be ready to leave again in ten minutes.

Well, seven minutes now.

The shower was still running, but he figured it would shut off at any second. So he sent a couple of text messages to contacts he’d made in town, put her jacket and his clothes in the laundry room sink, tossed in one of the spell crystals he kept in his inside jacket pocket, and invoked it.

With a sizzle of power, the burner spell housed in the crystal flared. White air magic swept over Arkady’s jacket and his clothes, turning all the blood on them to fine ash. When the spell finished, it left the faint scent of ozone in the air and no trace of Oliver Mora’s lifeblood. He pocketed the spent crystal, shook off the ash and washed it down the sink, and draped her jacket over the washing machine. It was clean, but he thought it could use some leather conditioner.

He found a small bottle of conditioner and an orphan sock obviously dedicated to the purpose in the cabinet over the dryer and took Arkady’s jacket to her living room. He settled on the couch just as the shower in the bathroom shut off. Moments later, he heard another door open and footsteps in Arkady’s bedroom. Her room must have a door that led directly into the one full bathroom.

As he waited for replies to his messages and rubbed the leather conditioner into the jacket, he glanced around the main living area of Arkady’s cottage. He’d noticed when they drove up that it appeared to be a converted guest house that had once belonged to the much-larger home behind it. An economical solution for a single woman living alone. The neighborhood seemed quiet. He imagined she enjoyed some peace after what he assumed had been years of violence and chaos.

At about a thousand square feet, the house was anything but spacious, but the layout made it seem bigger than it was. And as he’d expected, Arkady’s tastes ran toward the utilitarian. He smiled at the sight of the square target mounted on the wall opposite the couch. The wood was pockmarked edge to edge from repeated knife hits. She must sit on the couch and practice her throws. The even distribution of the marks indicated she aimed all over the target, not just at its center. He’d never met anyone as precise with a blade as himself until tonight. She might even be better. He was surprised to discover that didn’t bother him.

He didn’t want to compete with her. He just wanted her.

And he would have had her, and she would have had him, if only Michael hadn’t carved him up and made him ashamed of his own body.

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