Living with the Dead - By Kelley Armstrong Page 0,121
a clairvoyant.”
“Considering who we’re talking about—killer of cops and celebutantes and innocent bystanders—I’m not convinced a little soul ripping isn’t in order. And, no, that isn’t the demon talking.”
“Adele is . . . broken.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
His gaze flicked away, her flippancy unappreciated.
“You’ve got me, okay?” she said, toning it down a notch. “I surrender. Now take me to the Nasts.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I want to go—”
“Marsten’s fine, Hope. The Cabal wouldn’t touch a Pack werewolf, and unless Grant was wrong, that’s what Marsten is, and the Cabal knows it. If they wanted him dead, they’d have shot him. They just tranquilized him, neutralizing the biggest threat first.”
“Fine, so take me—”
“I can’t do that when I’d be in as much trouble as you. And they don’t want me going back. Don’t you get it? This is a set-up. Do you think letting us escape the front door was an oversight?”
“No, it’s proof that you’re working for them. They let you go so you could get me out and pretend to have rescued me.”
He rocked back on his heels. “What are my vibes telling you? Anything negative there, besides frustration? Anything to suggest I’m lying?”
“As a mercenary—hired gun, hired spy, hired con artist, whatever—you’re a professional liar.” She met his gaze. “Right?”
He tugged his cap brim, as if adjusting it, a subconscious attempt to pull back under its shadows. A man who preferred the security of anonymity.
“A professional liar can outwit an Expisco,” Hope said.
“Not if you were properly trained.”
How much did he know about Expiscos? This was the second time his words suggested she wasn’t the first one he’d met. The demon jumped to attention, straining forward with questions. Hope hauled it in and muzzled it.
“What possible reason would I have to fake-rescue you?” Rhys said. “To lead me to Adele? You have no idea where she is.”
“Okay, then. I’m useless. So let me go.”
“You aren’t useless to me. I brought one operative on this mission, and your boyfriend killed him. I need help, and I have a feeling you’re going to be a lot more useful on this mission than Grant.”
“What mission?”
“You haven’t asked why the Cabal let me escape that hotel room. What does Irving want?”
This wasn’t the time for a pop quiz. But as Hope squirmed, she could tell she wasn’t getting out of these strap cuffs until he let her. “You know where Adele is. Irving has figured out you’re not handing her over. He thinks if he swoops down on us and you escape, you’ll run off to warn her. Lead him to her. That’s why he had one of his men suggest they know where she is.”
“Suggest?” Rhys laughed. “That was one of the most obvious tricks I’ve seen. There’s a reason Irving hasn’t shot through the Cabal ranks.”
He took a penknife from his pocket and flicked it open.
“Your hands,” he said.
“I’d like to keep them.”
“And you aren’t going to if you keep yanking at that strap, digging it in deeper.” He flipped Hope around and sliced off the cuffs. “Now we need to get that cleaned up. I have a first-aid kit in my car. Then we’re going to the kumpania.” Seeing her expression, he shook his head. “You don’t even know what that is, do you? Remember what I said about being in over your head? The kumpania is where we’ll find Adele.”
“But that’s exactly—”
“—what Irving wants me to do? Yes.”
“I’m not helping the girl who—”
“I’m not warning Adele. I’m warning Neala.” Again, he saw her confusion. “Colm’s mother.”
“Your wife.”
He shook his head, gazed down as he returned the knife to his pocket. “Not for a very long time. But she saved my life once. I owe her.”
“So you’re going to warn her about the Cabal.”
“And, more immediately, about Adele. Which she already suspected. I just didn’t listen. She tried—”
He broke off, shaking his head and prodding her along the fence line.
Hope dug in. “Whatever problem you have, it’s your problem. Mine is Karl and Robyn. I don’t even know where Robyn is—”
“Picked up by the Cabal, I’m sure. You want them back from the Cabal SWAT team, and I want to get to the kumpania without that SWAT team on my tail. The two goals, I think you’ll agree, are not mutually exclusive.” He took her elbow. “Come on.”
FINN
* * *
THAT SPRINT ALONG THE MOTEL had burned off Finn’s anger, and when he saw Robyn clutching the gun, the first thing he noticed was not the black hole of