Chapter 7
Isa
In the back office, Isa set her phone on the desk, next to a tube of lipstick, and locked her purse in the bottom drawer. A text flashed across her screen.
She dropped into the worn leather chair behind the battered desk that Des loved and rested her head in her hands. She needed just a minute, maybe two, to shake off the sense of impending doom.
What are you doing? She pressed her fingers against her temples, trying to ease the low-level ache that had settled in hours earlier, right about the time she’d sent the first text and slid back down a familiar rabbit hole, one she thought she’d finally left behind.
The sound of knuckles against the doorframe had her raising her head and opening her eyes to find Des standing at the office door.
He wore a frown. “You okay?”
No. “Yes.”
He looked at the phone sitting on the desk, his frown deepening. “Where are they setting up shop?”
“On the west side.”
He wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, his head doing a slow shake. With heavy resignation he asked, “The Cavern or the Icehouse?”
“Icehouse.”
His hand went from his neck to his back pocket. “Here.” He pulled something out and tossed it toward her.
Isa barely managed to catch the warm weight between her palms. She opened her hands to see what looked like a simple friendship bracelet made of braided string and a cluster of carved green and black beads. “What is it?”
“Protection.” Des set a muscled shoulder against the doorframe and folded his arms. “The Zemi that came through last week made it—said she needed to give it to me for helping her out.” The highly skilled warding mage who’d crafted it had been targeted because of her ability to create innocent-looking yet powerful objects like this.
He angled his head toward the simple bracelet.
“I’d feel better if you wore it tonight. ”
Since she could use all the help she could get, she slid the innocuous protection charm on.
She tightened it until it sat snug on her wrist, a dark line almost lost among the various gold bangles.
As the bracelet settled against her skin, Isa swore she could feel the invisible weight of the inevitable lighten. “Appreciate it, Des.”
“You’ll be careful.” It wasn’t a question.
“I will.” She pushed back the chair and got to her feet. “Locke still out there?”
“What do you think?”
Sighing, Isa moved toward the wall safe. “I’m leaving my car. I’ll pick it up when we’re done.”
She preferred to have her own wheels, but that wasn’t happening without an argument, and while she normally got a kick out of pushing Locke’s buttons, she couldn’t find the will to do it tonight.
Not when she was this keyed up about the impending meeting.
She punched in the safe’s code, opened the door, and moved the contents aside until she found what she was looking for—a small warded box.
She pulled it out, disarmed the ward, and opened the container.
Inside was a mismatched collection of objects.
“You sure you want to go through with this?” Des asked.
She picked out an innocuous-looking wooden disc and slipped it into her pocket.
“Want to? No. Have to? Yes.” She closed the box, reset the ward, put it back, then closed the safe.
Turning back, she found Des watching her.
“Anna said she’d be happy to help you and Leon with closing tonight.
” She collected her lipstick and phone from the desk before heading his way.
“We should be good,” he said as she came up to him. “Did you reach out to Cass?”
Isa avoided his gaze. “I will, later.”
“Isa…”
The warning note in his voice sliced across her nerves. She tilted her head back so she could glare at the man she considered a brother. “She’s dealing with enough right now, Des. I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.”
His lips tightened into thin disapproving lines. “I know you can handle your shit,” he rumbled as he angled his body so she could step through the door. “It’s Angel I don’t trust.”
“Me either, but letting Locke walk in there alone is not a good idea.” They started down the short hall. “Something happens to him, and the Cordovas will be all over our asses.” They couldn’t afford to take on that problem, especially if Isa ended up on Angel’s radar again.
She took his grunt as agreement and pushed through the door that led back into the bar. Des grabbed her arm in a gentle grip. Stopping, she turned her head and gave him a questioning look.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.
“No, but Locke’s not giving me a choice.”
“Maybe if you explained—”
She shook her head. “It wouldn’t change anything. Locke is going in one way or another, and if I’m with him, Angel will focus on me, not him.”
Des looked like he wanted to argue. Worry lined his face. “Promise you’ll stick to Locke like glue tonight.”
She tugged against his hold, and when he let her go, she leaned up on her toes to press her lips against his cheek before dropping back down. “I will. Promise.”
He didn’t look reassured, so she gave him one last smile before turning away.
She went through the pass and headed toward Locke.
He was already sliding out of his booth.
The material of his short-sleeved, button-down shirt glimmered under the floor lights as he dropped a tip on the table and slid his wallet into a pocket of his tailored black slacks.
When she got close, he invaded her space, his hand going to the base of her spine. “Ready?”
The heat of his palm against her skin sent goose bumps cascading down her arms. “Yep.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt, knowing that if Locke caught any hint of her unease, he’d go all alpha on her, which would make this whole thing even harder.
They walked across the floor, Isa returning a few utterances of “good night” from familiar patrons as Locke prowled at her back. He didn’t say anything until they were in his car.
“You want to put in the address for me?” He started the engine, and it woke on a low rumble.
“Sure.” She typed in the location, hit Enter, and sat back. In a sultry female tone, the GPS confirmed the forty-minute drive.
Locke shot Isa a look as she settled into the leather seat. “That seems a ways out.”
“It’s on the west side, out near the stadium.” She dug into her pocket to retrieve the wooden disc and held it out. “And you’re going to need this.”
He took it from her. “What is it?”
“Our entry for tonight.” She snapped her seat belt in place as he examined the token. “It’s a marker that tells whoever is manning the door that you won’t be bringing unnecessary attention to the event.”
He curled his fingers around the token. “Yours?”
She shook her head, thinking of the young woman they’d managed to relocate a couple of years back without getting on Angel’s radar. “No, someone else who won’t be needing it.”
Locke studied her for a long moment, but when she didn’t elaborate, he shifted his weight, slipped the token into his pocket, and put the car in gear.
He was quiet as he navigated the maze of one-way streets that made up downtown Phoenix.
She watched the lights blur as he hit the highway and wasn’t surprised when Locke finally broke the quiet.
“You want to tell me what we’re walking into?”
No, she really didn’t, but letting him walk in blind wasn’t just unfair—it could be dangerous, as well, for both of them. “The Den started out as an underground rave for the college crowd, but over the years, it’s morphed into an unconventional social club.”
“You called it a vipers’ pit.”
“Vipers’ pit, hunting ground—both would work.”
“Hunting ground for what?”
“Whatever it is you’re looking for. Whether you’re a kid wanting an escape from a shitty home, a college student chasing a high, or a bored socialite looking for forbidden excitement, if you’re there, it’ll find you.
” She wrapped her fingers around the belt across her chest. “There’s a high chance we’re going to cross paths with some people from my past.”
When she gave him nothing more, he prompted, “People or trouble?”
“Probably both,” she said, torn between the knowledge that he needed to hear her story and her reluctance to share the painful details with someone who saw the world in black and white.
After shifting uncomfortably in her seat until she was facing him, she fisted her hand in her lap and dove in. “Have you heard of the Idyl Devils?”
Light and shadows danced over his face as he frowned. “Sounds familiar, but I’m not making a connection.”
“About fifteen years ago, they were just one of many neighborhood gangs in the West Valley. Over the years, they morphed from a group of rebellious teens with a bent for petty crimes to questionable businessmen managing sophisticated criminal enterprises.”
“By ‘sophisticated,’ you mean…?”
“Extensive distribution channels for designer drugs.” She watched the muscle in his jaw jump. “In the last few years, there have even been rumors of arms dealing and human trafficking.”
“Any truth to those?”
“Not that I know of, but that doesn’t mean much.”
“So the Den is what? A front for one of these businesses?”
She rolled her shoulders. “My guess? At least one business, if not more.”
“And the cops haven’t come down on this group why?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” But she had some ideas. Knowing Angel and how far his sticky hands could reach, he had an in with the department. “What I do know is that the current head of Idyl Devils is using the Den to reel in new recruits to expand their business.”
“And you think Leo was one of them?”
She couldn’t shake the scattered snapshots dominating Leo’s fear-soaked flashbacks. “Yes, and I think he met Isaiah at one of the Den’s incarnations.”
“But you’re not sure.”
“No,” she admitted. “Because Leo’s memories were pretty ripped up, and I could be filling the blanks in with the wrong information.”
He took a moment. “You said the location changes?”
“It does.”
“But not always?”
“Certain sites are repeats.”
“Like tonight?” he asked.
“Yes.”