Chapter 14
Locke
The next morning, Locke pulled into Wonderland and parked next to Isa’s modest four-door sedan. “Looks like we beat the ticket.”
“Nice.” Isa undid her seat belt and let it zip back. “Thanks for the ride.” With her phone in hand, she reached for the door but turned back when he shut down the car and opened his door. “What are you doing, Locke?”
“Coming with you.”
Her sigh was exasperated as she shoved open the passenger door. “I told you—”
“I heard you, Isa. But I’m still walking you inside.” He got out and shut the door behind him then waited for her.
She came around the Dodge’s hood and headed straight for Wonderland’s entrance, leaving him to follow.
His lips twitched as she all but stomped her way across the cracked asphalt lot and slapped the security ward.
He didn’t care if his presence pissed her off.
It made him feel better. The previous night, Angel had been too focused, too intent on Isa, and that didn’t sit well with Locke.
Especially after how simple it had seemed to drive away from the Den.
He’d worked with Hunters like Zev for too long not to understand how predators lulled their prey into a false sense of security before attacking.
And when it came to Isa, Angel was definitely playing the part of a predator.
Isa yanked open the door and slipped inside. He caught it before it closed and followed her down the stairs and into the main area. She stomped over to the bar, set her phone down hard, and then turned, her hands going to her hips as she faced him.
“You walked me in. I’m fine. Now go.”
Ignoring her bad-tempered demands, Locke closed in and set his hands on either side of her, trapping her against the bar.
Stubborn to the end, she tilted her head back and narrowed her eyes as she glared at him in feminine affront. “Locke…” His name came out like a warning.
He ignored it, dipping his head down as she tried to lean back. With the bar behind her, she didn’t get far. He stopped with only a few inches between them and was gratified when color rose under her skin and her lips parted.
“Text me,” he said.
Those long lashes drifted down then up, dark amber swirling with emotions he really wanted to explore.
A door hit a wall.
Isa jumped and turned her head, the move causing her loose hair to brush against Locke’s jaw. Locke didn’t move away as the silky strands caught on his stubble. He simply shifted his gaze from her flushed face to the amused man walking in from the back, an empty coffee mug dangling from his hand.
“Morning, Des.”
The other man gave him a grunt of acknowledgment before turning to Isa. “Thanks for letting me know you were alive.” Sarcasm was alive and well in his voice.
“Shit, sorry,” she said with a wince. “Did you stay here last night?”
“Yeah. Used the couch in the office.” Des turned Locke. “I’m guessing, from your presence, Angel’s going to push his luck.”
“No.”
“Yes,” Locke said at the same time.
Her head whipped around so fast he barely avoided getting clocked. “No, he won’t,” she enunciated, glaring at him.
“Yes, he will,” he shot back, frustration rising at her stubborn refusal to see the threat. “Which is why you promised to be careful.”
Her hands went to his chest, and she shoved, trying to force him back. “And I will be.”
He didn’t move. “Yes, you will.”
“What happened?” Des stood at the complicated-looking coffee machine, which was quietly whirring away.
Isa shot Locke a wary look.
He eased back, resigned. “Go ahead and catch him up.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Really?”
“Like you wouldn’t spill it all the minute I’m gone.”
A glint of humor peeked through, and her lips curved up. “Well, yeah.”
He shook his head. “Text me when you’re back here, okay?” Ignoring her rolling eyes, he turned to Des. “Angel’s jonesing for her, so don’t give him an opening.”
“I’m right here,” Isa muttered as she went through the pass to join Des. “And I can take care of myself.” She grabbed the empty mug from Des, pulled the carafe out, and started to pour. “And I told you, I’ll be busy most of the day.”
Des took the creamer from a small chiller and handed it to her. He turned to Locke as she finished doctoring her coffee. “For what it’s worth, Angel tends to avoid this place like the plague.”
“So I heard,” Locke said. “But shit went down, and I don’t trust him.”
“Yeah, neither do I,” the other man agreed. “I’ve got her covered this morning.”
“I heard.” Locke looked at Isa, who sipped her coffee. “I’ll be back after I finish up with Zev.”
“Don’t rush on my account,” she drawled.
It was all he could do not to round the pass and kiss that arrogant smirk off her face. Instead, he gave Des a nod, turned on his heel, and reluctantly left Isa behind.
Twenty minutes later, Locke was sitting at a kitchen island in a downtown condo, enjoying his own cup of joe.
Zev closed the dishwasher and then dried his hands. “Rory got Montenegro to agree to meet at Haven’s Corner in an hour.”
Rory Costas, Zev’s girlfriend, was sitting on the couch to Locke’s left, her foot braced against the low coffee table as she laced up her boot. Locke raised his cup to her.
“Thanks,” Locke said.
“Not a problem,” the dark-haired woman replied, tying off the laces then tugging down the leg of her equally dark slacks. “Though, got to say, he didn’t strike me as the underground-club type.”
“Me either,” Locke said as she wove around a couple of unpacked boxes. “I’m thinking that was more the side piece’s decision than his.”
Rory grimaced as she joined them. “Beto being a dick—that is something I can totally believe.” She set a hand on Zev’s back then reached around to grab the to-go cup he’d brought her, sliding him a telling look. “Maybe someone should tell his wife about his after-hours entertainment.”
“Could we maybe not piss off every-fucking-one in the Valley, babe?” Zev drawled.
“I don’t know. It’s been—what, a month without anyone gunning for us?” she said with a small smirk. “I’m starting to get bored.”
“Maybe we should warn Mari she’s about to put in some serious overtime,” Locke suggested.
With how often the independent Transporter got into hot water, a heads-up to Mari would make sense.
Not that she would mind. She got off on all that legal stuff, which was why her main client was the Cordova Family.
Until Locke met Rory, he’d never realized how dangerous transporting magical items could be.
Then again, for Rory, danger was par for the course.
“I heard her thanking Rory the other day for her contribution to her shoe fund,” Zev told Locke with mock seriousness.
“She actually picked up a new pair yesterday.” Unusually enthusiastic, Rory set her mug down, took out her phone, thumbed the screen, then turned it around to share a picture.
The screen showed a pair of black sky-high heels with bloodred soles and a line of silver crawling up the needle-thin stilettos.
Locke leaned in, looking closer. “Are those daggers on the heels?”
“Yep.” Rory pulled her phone back, enlarged the picture, and turned it back around. “And check out the cool-ass black lace pattern.”
Now that Rory mentioned it, he had to agree—they were definitely cool as shit. He sat back and teased, “Never thought you were the heel type.”
“I like them as much as the next woman,” she said, setting her phone down on the counter. “I just wouldn’t pay four figures for them.”
That he could believe. When Rory and Zev first met, she had been working under the aegis of the Western Arcane Guild, a kind of magical mercenary storefront.
And everyone knew the Guild took a hefty cut of earned fees.
After her role in retrieving Emilio’s nephew, she turned fully independent, hoping to minimize that cut.
Then she caught the attention of the Arcane Council, in part because of her connection to the legendary Sabella Rossi-Giordano, a matriarch of one the original Arcane Families.
As Sabella’s niece, she carried a sort of curiosity cachet, but her bigger draw to the Council was her Prism ability.
Being able to negate magical attacks made Rory a magical unicorn with one of the most powerful entities in society.
The Arcane Council was keen to acquire her talent and then lock that shit down.
Unfortunately, that kind of focus left Rory facing a higher-than-normal amount of danger.
In an effort to keep breathing, the intrepid Transporter had turned down the Council’s recent contractual offer, hoping to sidestep the attached exclusivity clause in favor of cultivating her own resources.
Zev and Rory were still braced for the potential fallout that came with rejecting the Council.
“Hey, been meaning to ask, how’s business?” Locke asked.
“Better than I thought, actually,” Rory said.
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “At first, I was worried I’d shot myself in the foot by turning down the Council’s backing, but demand is starting to pick up. I even snagged a couple of contracts out of Vegas and California, which means longer runs for me, but the money’s good.”
“And the Council? Are they pulling any shit?”
“Not yet,” she said blandly, though her eyes betrayed a flash of unease. “They’ve actually reached out with a couple of routine jobs, which went fairly smoothly. For now, I’m taking their requests on a case-by-case basis.”
“Smart.”
“I try to be. Speaking of…” She turned to Zev and covered his hand on the counter.
“I know I said it earlier, but it bears repeating—be careful with Beto. I get the impression he really likes his position as Mr. Moneybags for the Filthy Rich, and so long as he swings clear of any troubling implications, he won’t be in any hurry to cut himself loose. ”
Zev reversed his grip and brought Rory’s hand up so he could brush a kiss over her knuckles. “We just want to tug on a few lines and see what rises to the top. I’ll be fine. Promise.”