Heart and Soul by Jackie May (reading list .TXT) 📗

I shudder. Hillerman seems unfazed. “Go deeper. Arael, I’m giving you ten seconds.”

Arael curses under his breath, and then Coletrane nods. “Ah, here it is. A business card of sorts? All black, no contact info. Just a logo of a white building. Obvious neoclassical architecture, like a state capitol building. White marble columns, a dome on top.”

“No writing?” Hillerman presses.

“An inscription. Looks like Latin, but it’s not very clear. His memory is spotty.”

“Because I took one look at the card and tossed it,” Arael growls. “If you want more details, Agent Hillerman, why don’t you try asking Beyona the next time she drops in?”

“I’m counting on it. Agent Davies, does a building of that description ring any bells?”

“Sure. Neoclassical architecture simply abounds in Detroit, don’t you know?”

“Did you know what neoclassical architecture was until just now?”

“Oh, not a damn clue. But I still could have told you that old-ass buildings cover the shit out of downtown.”

Coletrane smiles. “Elegantly said.”

“So, we’re done with Cafeteria Girl? I’m sorry, what was your name? Monica? No, Mindy.”

“Mandy.”

“Report back to your post,” Hillerman orders.

Cafeteria Girl lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I really can’t sing to save my life.”

A strangled groan brings our attention to Arael Moaz, who glares at me with unrestrained hatred. His face is turning red. The veins in his neck bulge.

I turn to Coletrane with exaggerated bravado. “Well, I don’t think it takes a vampire to read that thought, does it?”

Coletrane tips his hat to me. “Badass.”

I make an astonished face at Hillerman—that totally worked did you hear that he just called me badass!

She only sighs and walks away.

From the front steps of the Old Wayne County building, I spot Jay’s car three blocks down, turning onto Randolph Street. “There they are.”

“We shouldn’t stand out here in the open,” Hillerman says.

She’s right, but I can’t help it. I’m too eager to see Jay, to watch him get closer and closer, until he has arrived at the safest place he could ever find in this world, which is by my side. I may be one of the lowest shifters on the food chain, but I can’t help but feel that, somehow, not even Nick Gorgeous could protect Brenner better than I can. It’s a strange kind of pride, to feel so protective of somebody besides myself.

Speaking of Nick Gorgeous, a text from him pulls my gaze from the car.

Nick: Take the next few days off. Not a request.

“What the hell?”

“What is it?” Hillerman asks.

“Nick Gorgeous. He just ordered me to take time off.”

“Something happened.”

I peck rapidly on my phone.

Me: What happened?

Nick: Find somewhere with protective wards. Stick your head in the sand.

Me: Is this about last night?

Nick: Your welcome, btw. Hope you like your man meat well done.

My heart stops. What the hell’s he mean by that?

“Shit,” Hillerman hisses. She hurries down the steps.

I look up from my phone and gasp at the sight of Jay’s car as it pulls up. The entire back end is charred black, and the windows are blown out. When Jay steps onto the curb, he matches the car. One side of his face is red and black. His clothes are torn. Lips bleeding. He winces in pain with every little movement. Russo slams the passenger door. “Car bomb,” he says. “Parked right behind us at the crime scene.”

Hillerman pulls her firearm. “Get him inside. Were you followed?”

“Maroon El Camino. See ’em there?”

One block down, an El Camino—the same maroon El Camino that chased us out of East Side last year—slows to a crawl as it turns a corner. Three huge guys are packed in the front seat, glaring at us. Hanging out the passenger window is that hairy bear of a man—the silverback wolf. Grinning, he makes a gun of his fingers and points it at Jay.

I feel paralyzed. I haven’t moved—haven’t breathed—since Jay pulled up. I want to throw my arms around his neck, but that would hurt him. I want to run after those East Side maniacs, tear their throats out, but my feet are rooted to the spot. The silverback has spotted me. His jeering smile gives way to bared teeth. I feel his growl in my bones, and I’m forced to look down in submission.

Tears of frustration are wrung from my eyes. In my heart, I feel that I’m not afraid of him, but my underworld instinct—the fox biology in my nervous system—completely overrides my senses with a flight instinct. I’m useless.

The El Camino turns the corner, out of sight, but not out of mind. Never again out of mind, not until I catch that silverback bastard and put a silver bullet in his brain. I vow it.

Jay’s arm snakes around my waist. He crushes me to him.

“Careful, you’re hurt, you’re…toasted.” Tenderly, I touch the bright red swells on his neck. I wipe black soot from his face.

“Not to alarm you,” Russo says heartily, “but he should be dead.”

I swipe at him. “Yes, Russo, that does alarm me, you asshat. How can you be smiling right now?”

“Because, this is Brenner we’re talking about. He has what can only be described as a supernatural tolerance for pain. You would not believe the beatings I’ve seen this man take. Ladies and gentlemen, I submit to you that Jay Brenner simply cannot be killed!”

I nearly choke on the glut of gypsy superstition that suddenly lodges in my throat. “Are you insane? Go find some hard wood and knock your fat head against it!”

“All right,” Jay murmurs against my forehead. He squeezes me gently. “All right.”

“We can’t stay in the open,” Hillerman reminds us.

Russo follows her up the marble steps. With awe, he says, “Special Agent Charlotte Hayes. I’m still not over it.”

“Only my friends call me Charlotte.”

“Oh, but I thought you didn’t have any friends,” I quip.

“Exactly.”

Russo claps his hands together with a chuckle. “Keeping your distance, I get it. I not only get it, but I need it. If you don’t keep me at a distance,