Page 38 of Heir of Ashes
“Don’t,” I cut him off harshly.
His mouth flattened, and his eyes flashed with stubborn determination. I took a step back, ready to walk away if he pressed the topic. I recognized the childish behavior, but there was nothing he could say that I wanted to hear.
“Let sleeping dogs lie,” my mother used to say whenever I became persistent about my father and what had happened to him. Inhaling, Logan turned back to the desk, reaching for his laptop without a word. He logged in with a password that he typed almost in a blur, then pulled something from his coat pocket and placed it beside the laptop—an ancient cellphone that looked like it belonged in a museum, complete with a keypad and small screen. I hadn’t seen one like that in ages.
From his other pocket, he pulled out something else—small metal shears—and turned to face me.
He took my left wrist and examined the blocking bracelet with a frown. “How come it doesn’t work on you?” he asked, cutting off the bracelet with an ease that belied the strength he had just used. A sharp zapping energy coursed through me and made my entire body clench. Even my teeth ached. I wondered how bad it had been for him.
“Why did they use it on you?” he tried again.
I resisted the urge to say “duh” and stated the obvious. “To prevent me from tapping into my other nature.”
“They had you for nine years and never figured out it didn’t work on you?”
I shrugged. “I never gave them any reason to believe otherwise.”
He gave me a look tinged with respect. “So, when you finally had the chance to leave, you could unleash everything you had.”
“It never came to that.”
I had hoped he wouldn’t connect the dots, but now that particular cat was out of the bag, I shouldn’t assume the PSS wouldn’t hear about it. He was a mercenary above all else, a no-trust zone. And it didn’t matter how high he thought his code of honor was. I didn’t—and couldn’t—trust him. Mercenaries made their living by selling their skills and knowledge to the highest bidder.
“I haven’t seen one like that in forever,” I commented, nodding at the antiquated phone, trying to diffuse some of the awkwardness.
He followed my gaze. “The old ones don’t have built-in GPS. Makes them harder to track.”
Oh? That was something to keep in mind. I motioned to his laptop. “What’s the plan?”
Reluctantly, he took the seat in front of the laptop and clicked on a folder titled Roxanne and showed me three addresses. “We’ll visit each house today and see if you recognize anything,” he said, rising just as a knock sounded. “That’s the coffee,” he announced as he headed to open the door. He took the coffee, tipped the delivery man, and brought it over. He poured us both a cup and settled back into the chair.
I accepted the cup he filled and eyed the addresses displayed on the screen, along with the screenshot of maps clearly saved from Google. “Like what?” I sipped the scalding brew.
“Anything. A car, the flower arrangements, anything that looks familiar. Maybe we’ll be lucky, and you’ll spot your mother or a friend coming or going. The PSS will be watching her, but if they figured out you don’t know where she is, they’ll probably monitor all three Elizabeths.”
I paused. “And then?” I asked quietly.
“For tonight, that’s it. If we find out which of the three is your mother, then tomorrow you can approach her—after I scout the place and make sure the Society isn’t waiting to ambush you.”
“And if you find the PSS is watching her?”
“I’ll handle them. I’ll scan the surroundings and when I find them, I’ll keep them occupied and lead them away.” His eyes gleamed with a hint of anticipation. I was sure Logan wouldn’t make it easy for them this time.
I nodded. “If it’s not any of the three?”
“We’ll find her.” His confidence was meant to reassure, but it sounded to me like a brush-off.
We finished our coffee in silence. Logan reached to refill my cup just as I was reaching for the carafe. Our hands brushed, and static zapped between us. I pulled away. He took a deep breath, filled my cup, and said, “About today, I’d like to explain myself.”
“Nothing to explain,” I interrupted. “Forget about it.” I moved to the sofa to put some much-needed distance between us.
“Damn it, Roxanne. Let me speak.”
I controlled my rapidly rising anger, not only because I didn’t want to fight but also because I was tired. He had a rightto feel however he wanted about me without having to apologize. We had a bargain, and he wasn’t obligated to like me. I bent to place my cup on the coffee table and told him exactly that. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m used to disgust aimed at me. You’re not obligated to make excuses to make me feel better. We have a bargain, not a relationship.” I straightened and was about to turn to face him when he took hold of my arm and spun me around. I hadn’t heard him move. Had I been so lost in my own thoughts, or was he that silent a predator?
I flinched at the anger I saw in his eyes. If I had been prepared or even had a little warning, I could have masked my reaction. Still, I controlled my expression with my next breath.
His eyes darkened into a stormy gray. “You’re such a hypocrite. You think I was disgusted because you’re something else? The only one disgusted with you is yourself. You’re so blind with self-loathing that you think anyone who knows you’re not human automatically dislikes you.” His voice held so much scorn and derision that I reacted without thinking.