Page 15 of Redeemed
“Me too.”And if I’ve done something that sent Levy to his final death…
“Okay, here’s the deal,” David says. “I’ve booked us a hotel room but since someone on Jacques’ team twigged my credit card I figure they’re likely to look for Connor’s too. Instead I used Abby’s. I’ll Venmo her the cash and we’ll be that much harder to find.”
Part of me is still furious at the turn of events, yet I reach out for David’s hand. Looking from one of my men to the other, I say the only thing I can.
“Thank you.”
David’s hand is warmer, but it’s Connor’s grasp that I’m most aware of. His touch and the sound of Jacques Betancourt murmuring in my ear.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill…
Chapter Six
Connor
“WAS THAT WEIRD?” David stares at the door Trajan has just walked through. “Yeah, that was weird.”
Since David answered his own question, I didn’t feel the need to respond. My phone chirped, letting me know I’d received an email.
From Trajan.
The list of all of Jacques’ safe houses by neighborhood and street address.
I scan it, buying time because I’m not sure how David’s going to respond to what I’ve got to say.
“We need to pack. Now.”
David’s command redirects my thinking. Yeah, we need to move on before we do anything else. “I’m on it.” We try not to unpack much so that we can leave on a dime if we need to.
He bops off to the bedroom and when he comes back, he’s thrown a rainbow striped hoodie over his yoga pants and he’s carrying his laptop. “My stuff’s in my bag.”
I’m not convinced he’s telling me the truth—or rather, he might believe all his stuff is in his bag but I’m pretty sure I’ll find debris scattered between the bedroom and the bath. I knock on Trajan’s door. “I’m going to start loading the car. Let me know when you’re ready to go.”
He doesn’t respond and I don’t push it. I gather my toiletries—plus a bottle of shampoo that’s pricey enough to piss David off if he leaves it here—and make a stack of our luggage. I take a moment to send off a text and then head for the garage.
Someone’s sitting in the passenger seat of the RAV4.
I pause in the doorway, debating whether I should go back and get my gun. The figure’s aura is a kind of opalescent silver. Not human, but not run-of-the-mill supernatural either. Closing the door with a bang, I stride toward the vehicle.
The figure watches me, eyes dark, hair a salt-and-pepper cloud around their face. I hit the fob to unlock the driver’s side door and get in.
Ananda Pendragon, the Morrigan, gives me an angelic smile.
I nod as a sign of respect for her status as a living god, but don’t return her smile. She’s trouble, and I’d prefer her normal expression of anger to this.
“You know where she is, don’t you.” It’s not a question, so I don’t answer.
“Come,meascach. Let’s put our differences aside. It’s nearly the solstice.” Her smile all but compels me to agree.
Still, I resist. She looks older than when I’d seen her last, her hair grey, her skin weathered. She is the triune goddess, and though she can take any form she wishes, she’s chosen to appear as the crone.
And I don’t trust her in any form.
“Onóir amháin, I cannot help you find the person you seek.” I almost point her at Jacques, but that would give the Morrigan an advantage. I need to get to the Princess first, along with her elven brethren.
The next instant confirms my decision. The kindly crone disappears, replaced by the Morrigan, the living god. Her anger fills the vehicle, making it hard to breathe.
“Youwillfind the Princess Tatiana or your lovers will suffer.”
