Holy balls.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Rowan was being rolled into a private meeting room at Die Mitte. They’d left the area around Fremont Street but needed a place to meet and talk through all the things they’d discovered.

  And since Rowan was hungry and Clive’s staff seemed to crave making her food, she agreed when Clive made the offer of a very late dinner.

  Clive had then waylaid her in a small office and made her take his blood again. And when Dr. Jenkins showed up and pretended it was a coincidence, she’d examined Rowan and said she was recovering so well she could eat some cacio e pepe and a little bread.

  Rowan wasn’t going to be running a marathon anytime soon, but her ribs and shoulder were healed enough she didn’t have to wear the sling except when she was sleeping, and her calf didn’t throb so severely though it would remain casted for a while longer. Since a human would have to deal with four or six months’ worth of recovery and it looked like Rowan only had to tolerate weeks at most, she kept it in perspective. She was lucky.

  Once food had been delivered and everyone had been introduced, Rowan said, “I learned something new an hour ago. The Latin meaning of Procella.”

  She watched as Genevieve, Darius, and Konrad ran it through their memories and everyone but Konrad understood.

  Genevieve explained Rowan’s prophecy dreams and knowings to Konrad and then he too got the reference.

  Clive had risen to go deal with something and when he returned, she knew he had something else to add.

  “Two things. First, we’ve identified the property the wolves who escaped the scene are hiding out at. We’ll get back to that in a bit. Second, the Tempest is owned by a witch-owned-and-operated consortium of investors, as I had remembered,” Clive began. “There were fronts and fronts after that, a few different offshores. As you might imagine, this made me and by extension, my assistant, ever more curious as to who would hide their involvement that deeply and why. Sergio Procella is one of the principals.”

  David quickly typed things into his phone with a speed people his age had naturally. His age. For fuck’s sake, he wasn’t quite ten years younger than she was. Still.

  “Just letting Vanessa know,” he said as his thumbs flew.

  Rowan slowly made her way through her pasta.

  Clive watched her carefully, assessing her health and her appetite. Regularly, he reached out to touch some part of her. Her elbow, the back of her hand, whatever. As if to assure himself she was really there and all right. And, she thought, to make a brand of ownership in the way of powerful beings.

  “So we’ve got connections to the Procellas in a few ways. As for ways we can act on? Konrad and the Senate can handle Hugo as it pertains to his stalking and attempted assault on Genevieve. But the rest is tenuous,” Rowan said.

  “Perhaps not tenuous as much as we don’t have all the pieces yet. We’ve got the who, but not the what.” Genevieve grabbed another piece of bread.

  That was easier to bear than the way she’d approached it. “Okay, I can see that. We need to lay it all out. David, you’re on whiteboard duty.”

  He jumped up, his sandwich in one hand as he grabbed a marker and began to write down the symbols from her dreams and knowings. And on another line, he wrote out the various incidents they were dealing with. Vampire lords, missing humans, the attack on Rowan, and Hugo’s stalking.

  “I think you should add the rule change,” Konrad said. “That’s connected to the Procellas.”

  When David stepped back, Rowan took it all in, letting her subconscious mind begin to unravel it all.

  “We need to take these wolves who escaped the scene. If we can find that connection between them and the Procellas, that’s a huge step forward,” Clive said, studiously avoiding Rowan’s gaze.

  “Are they in the Goldfield area?” Rowan asked.

  Clive nodded. “Yes. There’s no other house for miles. The area is already fairly deserted. We can’t get close by vehicle without being spotted. But my people were able to verify there are four shifters there. No others. No animals. We don’t know yet where the other three went.”

  “That’s not even a three-hour drive. I can totally go,” Rowan said.

  As a group, they all turned to her and said, “No.”

  “What? Why? It’s not on another continent. It’s not in another state. I’m not saying I’ll be out there kicking wolf shifter ass or anything. But I should get to go. This all connects to my dreams.” She really wanted to cross her arms over her chest but that would have hurt, so she didn’t.

  “Because the way Oliver described it, any approach by vehicle would be seen. Which means it’ll take some Vampires to fly in and handle their apprehension. You can wait here. Safely. And when we bring them into town, you can definitely interrogate them,” Clive offered.

  As bribes went, it was pretty decent given her physical state.

  “We’ve got four hours before sunrise. My team is researching and planning now should the Dust Devils or Senate wish to take part,” Clive said. “The tentative plan is to move tonight after sunset. We have modes of transportation shifters won’t see until it’s too late for them.”

  “They won’t see Devils. Not if we don’t want them to.” Then Darius turned to Genevieve and stared at her so intensely Rowan blushed. He briefly put a finger against her lips. “Your side is our side. We’ve gone over this. We’ll provide overwatch for the Vampires and give an escort back. If anyone runs, we’ll catch them.”

  Genevieve nodded and said faintly, “As you wish.”

  “The Procellas work with cruise ships,” Rowan murmured. A way to smuggle someone out of the country.

  Genevieve said, “Antonia said her father is in San Diego where that part of their business is located near the cruise terminals. She claims the father is estranged and Hugo wouldn’t go to him.”

  “Bullshit. Of course that’s where he’s headed. He can’t get on a plane. Major bus lines and trains are being watched. Where’s he going to go otherwise? His family is going to cut him loose like dead weight because he so openly broke your laws with Genevieve. If the dad can get him out of the way now, they can avoid total ruin.”

  “Speaking of that,” Konrad interjected, holding his phone aloft a moment. “I had someone look through our files. There were two other women who made an official request for assistance from the Conclave regarding stalking and obsessive behavior from Hugo Procella. Neither woman wanted any further involvement once the family stepped in and called him off. One is married. With two kids and a wife. Their family moved out of the country. The other woman sold her house and now lives in a high-security building with a doorman. The Procellas made large cash payouts to both and from what information we have so far, Hugo left them alone afterward.”

  “I wonder if Sergio accused them of lying too?” Genevieve murmured.

  Rowan growled. “You know he did. Hugo is a devious, perverted little shit, and his family seems to have enabled him to continue. I could kick him with my casted leg. It would hurt me, but it’d be worth it.”

  “Sergio or Hugo?”

  “Both. And look, Antonia acts one way, but let’s be real, he’s done this before, and she has to have known and she still made excuses. I don’t trust anyone in that family at this point,” Rowan said.

  “She’s in custody for the night but I probably won’t hold them for longer than forty-eight hours. We’re searching their home here in Las Vegas right now, but I’ve also sent out one of my teams to surveil Alfonso Procella, as well as the ships they deal with. I agree it makes sense to think Hugo will go to his father for help,” Konrad said.

  Rowan bristled. “We’ve been very forthcoming with you on several delicate matters. Mounting a search without involving Hunter Corp., even just to inform us, is not a move I’m pleased with.”

  “This has nothing to do with Hunter Corp. This is an internal matter,” he said, and it was arrogant as fuck and not sexy like when Clive did it.

  “That’s bullshit.”

  Konrad Aubert was clearly not used to being spoken to in such a manner. He stiffened, and at her side, Clive sat taller, leaning slightly closer to Rowan to signal his allegiance.

  “Who do you think hired those wolves to try and kill me? Witches did. Whose office building did Hugo have to be removed from when he tried the roses stunt? Who physically threw him out? Whose prophetic gifts have guided you to the guilty parties? It’s not like I can go running up and down stairs, kicking in doors to see if they’re hollow. But I most certainly deserved to know a search was happening long before now.”

  “I did inform you. Just not on your timeline. And I have every intention of sharing what we find if any of it is pertinent to your investigation.”

  “Jesus on a pogo stick, what were you thinking about just now when I was speaking? All those things done by me and Hunter Corp. means I have pertinent information that would have been useful during a search. It’s sloppy to have ignored that.”

  Genevieve looked over to her father and cocked her head.

  “We all have our own concerns. I cannot be expected to do Hunter Corp.’s job as well as my own,” Konrad said, exasperated.

  “Please.” Rowan rolled her eyes with a snort. “When I do a job, it gets done right.” She probably shouldn’t have said that, but Rowan had had her fill of entitled powerful people acting as if everyone else in the world was just an accessory to whatever they wanted to do.

  And since it had already been said, Rowan continued, “I have zero interest in the vast majority of witch business. Yes, yes, all you big powerful beings tend to forget the existence of pretty much everyone else on Earth, but I don’t have that luxury, Konrad. I’m not a thousand-year-old warlock, but I’m also not a punk. You’ll take my intel, no hesitation, but I can’t expect the same? That’s far from a working relationship I’d pursue in the future, if you take my meaning.”

  “As I said, plainspoken,” Genevieve said to Konrad. “You’re correct, Rowan. I apologize this didn’t come up at the beginning of our conversation. There is no ill intent. We have long been on our own to defend ourselves. It has made us insular in many ways. I’ll endeavor to improve on this matter.”

  “I promise to let you kick a door in when you recover fully,” Clive said in her ear, making her smile.

  Konrad leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Genevieve is correct to apologize and to say there’s no ill intent. I have protected my people century after century. So long I forget we are not entirely alone. Your intelligence did indeed save countless lives and that you so freely shared it matters.” He inclined his chin.

  Rowan didn’t want to be crosswise with witches, but like any other alpha predator, they had to learn she wasn’t weak or easy to overlook or manipulate. She’d earn their respect but wouldn’t tolerate their high-handedness. “I should add, you have, in return, helped Hunter Corp. and me personally on more than one occasion. I do not wish to sound ungrateful. Merely to point out the importance of reciprocity.”

  Sometimes you had to sucker punch an apex predator in the junk a few times before they finally respected you. Or feared you. But careful so they didn’t kill you before they got to the respect part.

  Quickly from that point they agreed to share information and to meet back just after sunset for the raid on the ranch the wolves were at. Rowan would toss anything back that wasn’t relevant. She had enough of her own secrets to keep, she wasn’t interested in borrowing trouble.

  “Now, as there’s not much else we can do and my wife very much needs her rest, I bid you all good night.” Clive stood and they all headed downstairs.

  “Well done,” Genevieve whispered in Rowan’s ear when she bent to deliver cheek kisses. “I’ll check in with you later.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Genevieve walked through her backyard and found herself tapping on his sliding glass doors. It was an hour shy of sunrise and already the blanket of darkness had begun to lift.

  She was tired, but for the first time in days she wasn’t afraid someone she cared about was going to die. It might be the eye of the storm, but in that respite, she reached out to Darius.

  He opened a nearby door, poking his head out. “Through here,” he said softly.

  Golden light drew her in as she found herself in what Rowan called a mudroom. It held laundry machines and various types of outerwear hung on pegs, along with racks near the floor that held boots of all types.

  “I was in the garage,” he said and then she was in his arms, not even remembering moving. Burying her face in his neck, she breathed him in.

  “Here now. Is everything all right?” he asked, his hands running up and down her spine, soothing her jangled nerves.

  “It is now,” she said, finding herself on the verge of tears.

  He made a low, inarticulate sound that meant nothing but to comfort and she held on, taking that warmth and steady strength he always presented.

  “Do I need to beat someone’s face in?” he asked, teasing.

  * * *

  Restless after the last several days of one threat after the next, Darius had made sure Genevieve was settled next door and he’d headed to the garage to tinker with an engine he was rebuilding.

  Over the eons, as the world had changed and machines of all sorts could be found everywhere, he’d found a simple sort of satisfaction in learning how to build them. How to repair them.

  It was a fascination many of his fellows shared and many Tricks—including his—ran repair businesses to pay the bills and keep busy. Most of them did shifts at the shop either as mechanics or doing the books and that sort of thing. It kept them all anchored to one another, even those who stayed to the outer reaches of their territory came in at regular intervals.

  Immortality was a gift and a curse. It became easy over the years to lose touch with the human you’d once been. You forgot human frailty as anything but a weakness to be ignored or exploited. Sometimes, those very old ones simply stopped existing. There one moment and gone the next.

  Darius had been there. Had drifted from place to place in perpetual gray where he began to let go of his life. And each time he’d been on that precipice, something or someone had come along to haul him back into the land of the living.

  Which is why he was elbow deep in an engine when he felt Genevieve approach.

  When he’d opened the door and she came to him so easily, when she’d walked into his embrace and...fit perfectly, the last of the gray washed away, replaced by the vivid hues she brought into his life.

  An actual life. With a person he shared meals with. Inside jokes with. A woman who trusted him to be her safe harbor.

  There were no half measures with this witch who’d brought him and his Devils so much power and light.

  She trembled. Little waves of pent-up energy. He drew them into himself. Away from her where they stole her rest and calm.

  “Give me a tour. I want to be nosy and poke through your things,” she said, her face still against his throat.

  Easily, he turned her, still tucked to his side, and took her through to the kitchen beyond.

  She wandered past his bookshelves, peered closely at the bits and pieces of his life scattered on surfaces here and there but did not touch them.

  She’d reach out and then clasp her hand into a fist before dropping it to her side.

  “Unless you’re going to throw something to the ground and stomp on it, you can touch things, Genevieve.” He brutally repressed a laugh, not wanting her to feel mocked.

  Her features lit. “I just wanted to be respectful.”

  She picked up a carving of an ibis done in malachite, smoothing her fingertips along the edges and curves.

  “You have an amazing collection of these carvings,” she told him as she looked over another, a far older one, a fish done in lapis.

  “For a long time I never settled in one place for long. But the carvings found a way to me. They were small enough that I could take them to my next home whenever I wanted. They’re a reminder of the places I’ve been.”

  “I like that. I love the similarities between carvings across cultures but also, how they begin to differ and create something that is uniquely their own. The imprint of thousands of years of human endeavor seems to flow from them.”

  There was no way to avoid the way she seemed to peer into his thoughts and speak them. To be understood like that was something he couldn’t protect himself from.

  “Will you tell me what’s bothering you?” he asked.

  She turned. “Earlier, when we were at Die Mitte, you told me you’d protect me and then you looked at me so deeply I felt it in my bones. And I believe you. You just gave me a home in a way. I’ve always done things for myself. I’m proud of that, please do not misunderstand. It’s important to me that I can manage all the things I need to. But no one else but me has ever seen me and valued me the way you do.”

  She moved to examine some of the art on the walls and he forced himself to stay in place, knowing she had more to say.

  “I was in my house. Everyone was asleep and I had all these words and feelings racing through my brain and it seemed cowardly not to tell you. I know you have duties and responsibilities and I never want to put you in a place where you feel you have to choose. I respect your position and all you and the others have done for me. I do not like bringing trouble into your world.”

  Darius shook his head as he took her hand and drew her down the hall to his bedroom.

  “We’re bikers. You know that, right? You’ve seen us and been around us enough to know there’s constant trouble and blood in our world. You speak as if you do not flood this Trick with energy. We’re fat and satisfied with it. That makes us more stable, not less. Though still troublesome because that’s who we are.”