Page 5 of Redeemed
She doesn’t say anything, just puts the car in gear and backs us out of our parking spot.
“It makes more sense. I’m tired of the constant churn.”
“You’re not worried that Levy’s done something that’ll make it possible for Jacques to break through your defenses?”
I snort a laugh, not willing to admit that my maker is in my headall the damned time.
“So you want to go up there tonight?”
She’s got one hand on the wheel, the other on the cupholder. I rest my hand on hers. “If you don’t mind. I can tell Levy to scram and then we can check the defenses.”
“Scram.” She chuckles. “Sure, grandpa.”
I give her a mock punch and she laughs. Between Ralph’s and Santa Monica I run through the list of safety features I’d had installed in the condo when I bought the place years ago. Things like motion sensor alarms and auto-locks that respond only to my thumbprint. I’d also had it warded with a three-layer system of spells. Each had an increasingly horrible consequence for breaking it, so that no manner of creature, no matter how powerful, could get through all three alive.
“All of it should still work.” I scrape my fingers through the long lock of hair that insists on falling in my face. Maybe I should start cutting it, even though I’d have to do it again every day when I rise. “If we can get rid of Levy, let’s bring in a witch and have the wards reset.”
She’s got both hands on the wheel and taps a rhythm with her thumbs. “Sure, as long as Jacques hasn’t brought in a more powerful witch to set some kind of subterranean spell.”
“Subterranean spell?”
“Something that could be triggered if you remove the current wards or that isn’t detectable by whoever you hire to reset them.”
“Have I ever told you you’re really good at borrowing trouble?”
She grins and slides us through traffic. “Let’s start with Levy and see where that gets us.”
Jonathan Levy is the definition of cool. He’s slight, wiry even, but his dark eyes and gorgeous cheekbones have such charisma he gives the impression of size. He’s also whip smart and hell in an argument. Sheena parks in the lot next to my condominium building and we both get out of the car.
“You could stay here.”
Another chuckle. I seem to have a knack for making her laugh tonight.
“As if. For all you know, Jacques Betancourt is waiting for you.”
He won’t be—I don’t think—but I give up the fight. Having Sheena at my side always makes things go better, if for no other reason than I take fewer risks out of concern for her safety.
Besides, Levy likes to talk, and Sheena’s an expert at ending a conversation.
I could let myself in the front door, and I will if he doesn’t answer the call. He does, though, and I tell him it’s me and ask if we can come up. His only response is to hit the button that unlocks the door. Sheena opens it and gives me a fortifying smile.
“How bad can it be?” she murmurs.
I don’t answer. The possibilities are endless.
We ride the elevator to the twelfth floor in silence. When I knock on the condo door—mycondo door—she clears her throat, so I’m glancing at her when the door pops open.
Startled, I turn. Levy stands in the doorway, his dark hair artfully tousled, the heavy silk of his shirt flowing over his body, open at the throat and at the cuffs.
“It’s my landlord.” His smile shows a hint of fang. I wait to see if he’ll invite us in. He doesn’t. “Come to see his lowly tenant. I wonder why, after all these months, he’d choose tonight to show up.”
“I hope I’m not interrupting.” I try to match his disinterested tone.
“I’ve only just come back from a meeting, and your timing amuses me.”
“I’m amusing?”
His smile turns predatory. “You were the meeting’s main topic. It seems you’ve been a very bad boy, and Jacques is most unhappy.”
