trying to say? Josiah frowned and yanked himself back on course. Lately the need to do that happened all too often. “Maria’s visions have consistently led us to Atlanta, Anson. He’s here. He’s got to be.”
Anson finished his scotch. “Maria’s made mistakes before, and he’s too good at covering his tracks. If something doesn’t shake loose soon, maybe we should think about doing something to shake it.”
“Maybe,” Josiah said. “All I know is, I believe I’ve acquired an expiration date.”
“What does that mean?” Anson studied him closely. “You’re not just our coven leader. You’re also our bankroller.”
“I don’t know what it means.” He gave Anson a reassuring smile when the other man hesitated. “When I have it figured out, I’ll let you and the others know. Don’t worry, I’m not going to pull the rug out from anybody. The mission still matters.”
When the older man left, Josiah thought about eating his takeout, but he’d lost his appetite, so he went to take a hot shower. Later, when he finally dumped cold food onto his plate, his phone lit up.
The highlight of his days was texting with Molly. Smiling to himself, he checked the screen.
I found my teacher. And it’s too soon to tell for sure, but I might have found the baby’s and my new home.
Jealousy seared him. He punched her number, listened to it ring. And ring.
She finally answered. “I don’t know how I feel about this. Texting and keeping you up to date about the baby is fine, but where’s the line?”
Don’t hold a line against me! he almost roared. His body clenched. Gently, go gently now. “Don’t hold a line against me, milaya.”
“Josiah,” she whispered.
Just as she had whispered too many days before, pressing her lips against his skin. His body caught on fire. Closing his eyes, he whispered in reply, “I respect your boundaries. I am asking you to change them.”
He listened to her breathing. Don’t hang up.
She didn’t hang up.
“Tell me about your teacher,” he coaxed.
“She’s very old and nearing the end of her life. She’s a good person. We’re going to help each other out a lot, I think. And my bedroom tonight is in a turret in a grand old Victorian house.”
He dared to relax a little. “Describe it to me.”
“There are four tall windows, and either the house sits at an angle, or the shoreline curves, because I can see the ocean from all of them. There’s a double bed with a walnut frame. It’s made with a homemade quilt with faded colors, and I’ve got a comfortable armchair. I’m sitting in it right now, looking at the water. I’ll be able to listen to the surf when I go to sleep.”
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky. Muffling his phone for a moment, he flung his plate viciously across the room. It shattered against the wall. “You sound happy.”
“Well, that’s complicated,” she said dryly. “But I’m happy to be here, and I feel safe.”
“That’s very good to hear. You should have always felt safe—always been safe.”
Truth was, she was better off without him. He had always known that. He was a morose son of a bitch. He didn’t know how to be anything other than cold, brooding, and driven.
Hesitantly, she asked, “How are things going for you?”
“Well, that’s complicated too,” he told her, matching her dryness.
“I imagine it is.” She fell silent.
“It’s not that I don’t want or need to tell you things, milaya, but I’m not sure how much I should say over the phone,” he said gently.
“I… see.” Suddenly she asked, “Are you safe?”
A startled warmth spread through him. “Tonight I am very safe.”
“Right. You are for tonight. Maybe we shouldn’t talk anymore.”
Her sudden intensity jolted him. “Don’t hang up.”
“Why? What are we trying to do here—sort of carry on a relationship but not really, while you get to be in danger and embrace a vendetta, or sometimes not, and I can’t know about any of it? I already told you once. I can’t be the mistress to your wife.”
I’m not waiting.
His scotch glass broke. Looking down, he found he was clenching the pieces hard enough to drive one of them into his palm. Blood dripped onto the granite counter. He said, “Meet me next weekend.”
She coughed out an incredulous laugh. He heard the stress threading through it. “You’re kidding. Right?”
With rigid self-control, he kept his voice even, deliberate. “I have things I need to say to you, and I believe they should be said in person. I will be