Page 47 of Amethyst Flame
Instead of going home, my Fiesta steered me toward Old Arbolito. I hadn’t been paying as much attention as I should have when Dane brought me this way last time, but luckily the moths were more responsible than me. Faded imagery appeared in my mind’s eye, like an old-fashioned movie of sepia memories but shaded violet instead. The moth map guided me right to Dane’s super secret suburban asylum.
I pulled into the driveway and sat for a moment, but Dane didn’t emerge.
The Bri thing was still nagging at me so I pulled out my phone and dialed. Guilt made me.
“Hi, Mom. I’m sorry.” I put extra inflection in my voice because Iwassorry. “I talked to Brianna. She’s fine.” Or some version of fine. Were any of us fine, really? “She seems like an okay kid. If there’s anything seriously wrong, maybe dear old dad should be looking at himself.” I hesitated. “She kind of reminds me of me, and I turned out all right, right? Thanks to you. Anyway, I have an after-work thing, but I’ll see you tonight. Hope you had a good walk with Joe.”
I looked at the fancy but bland house in front of me. The low swoop of its eaves arced like a disapproving frown.
“Love you,” I added quietly before disconnecting.
It was getting hot in the car. Was Dane going to leave me out here to fry like a dog?
I went up to his front door, put my hand over the keypad, and released a few moths. They unlocked the door easily but stumbled over the added alarm sequence hidden in a second layer of security. Since I wanted Dane to know where I was, I pushed my way inside.
I wandered into the kitchen and started poking through the pantry and fridge. Not a bad selection. Nothing I would’ve chosen for myself, of course, but it wasn’t like Dane could maintain his super secret agent body on soft pretzels and Hot Pockets.
Ugh. I did not want to think about his not-soft hot body. I made myself a giant omelet with extra red bell peppers since Dane bought organic and those suckers were, like, three bucks a pop.
I’d just plated it up with a mini Leaning Tower of Pisa of golden toasted buttery bread when the front door banged open.
Dane swept in, gun drawn, eyes swiveling a three-sixty. “What’s wrong? Where’s the danger?”
“You,” I drawled, “if you don’t get your finger off the trigger.”
With a muttered curse, he lowered his weapon. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi, honey, I’m home,” I chirped. “How was your day?” I mimed a smacking kiss.
When he didn’t reply with anything besides an even tighter tooth clench, I let out a disappointed huff. “Well,Ihad a good day,” I said airily, “infiltrating the enemy, endangering my life, and lying to innocent people. Good times.”
His gaze ticked between my face and the omelet and to the back door alarm pad—obviously a Dane addition, blinking red. “No one else broke in?”
“Just me.”
“Why?”
“Because it was hot in my car. And I was hungry. Look, dinner’s ready. Want to eat?”
Slowly, he holstered the gun. “Ms. Taylor, what are you doing here?”
I’d started to grab a second plate, but I set it back on the stack with a hard clatter. “I sweat all day over a hot stove, and this is how you’re going to be?”
“Imogen…” His voice was a low growl that vibrated through me.
I grabbed utensils and my plate and ambled over to the kitchen table. “Geez, I’m just teasing.”
“We’re not here to play.”
“I thought you’d want to debrief me,” I told him.
He shook his head. “You’ve never voluntarily shared anything with me. Who are you, and what have you done with Imogen Taylor?”
I rolled my eyes. “My favorite color is gold. There. I shared.”
He just looked at me. “I thought it was purple.”
“My moths are violet. But I…” I stuck a big forkful of omelet in my mouth. “Never mind.”
