Proof of Life (The Potentate of Atlanta #4) - Hailey Edwards Page 0,21

meant putting my mother underfoot for several days. “Can you coordinate that with them for me?”

“What will you be doing?”

“What do you think?”

As much as I wanted to rush to Boaz and Addie, they were both alive. Safe. We had time.

These people…

They had been guests in my city, and their time had run out.

On my clock.

At dawn, when I laid my head on my pillow, I would never fall asleep if I witnessed this then spent the night out at museums and nice restaurants like their deaths didn’t matter, like the attack on my city, my people, to get to me, didn’t matter.

“Put two in the field,” I told him. “I’ll check the burn sites, see if I can catch our firebug reminiscing, but I want eyes on me. I want to know if I’m being followed in a way I can’t track.”

“Milo and I will do the honors,” he volunteered. “Sorry your reunion has gone bust.”

“This is more important.”

And a busy schedule also meant a valid reason for avoiding my mother.

Hello, silver lining.

“That glint I texted you about? Can you check surveillance in the area? See if you can isolate its origin?”

There was no guarantee it was connected to the explosion, but I wanted an answer.

“Already on it.”

“I need to check in with Abbott too.” I expected no miracles, but I could always hope. “Maybe he’s made progress on a field test for rooting out who’s been infected by any Martian Roaches we’ve missed or anyone whose skin is being worn by the coven.”

The last two days made it more time critical than ever to ferret out any coven members in our midst. We had to act, but lips moved faster than we could mobilize. We had to plug the leaks before there was any hope of washing our hands clean of them.

“I can handle that,” Midas volunteered. “I need to update Mom anyway.”

“I called her earlier,” I confessed. “I figured with it being pack related, she would want to know first.”

“Thanks.” A bright smile creased his face. “I appreciate that.”

“Why are you goofy grinning at me?”

Bishop, who was still on the line, said, “He likes that you’re getting close with his mom.”

Annoyed with him being nosy, I ended the call without another word.

“I do like that you called her. It’s a big improvement over the flu.”

A flush threatened to burn my cheeks, but my face was already scalded. “Will I never live that down?”

“Gwyllgi have long memories, so no.” He chuckled. “You won’t.”

“Crap,” I muttered, half serious. “That means the same trick won’t work twice.”

“You’ll think of something else, I’m sure.”

“I can’t decide if I appreciate your vote of confidence or if I’m insulted by it.”

“Gray has this under control.” He nudged me toward the sidewalk. “We should leave him to it.”

A shiver of unease swept through me. “Where are you going?”

“With you.” The way he looked at me called my sanity into question. “Where else?”

Five

The predator under Midas’s skin didn’t care that Hadley had survived a bomb. Make that two bombs. Or that she could survive another. He made his calls and sent his texts while keeping her in arm’s reach. She humored him, though it must have annoyed her for him to hover. He couldn’t help it with his instincts in his ears, roaring he must protect her at any cost, when she was more than capable of watching her own back.

The smoke from the bar fire had sunk into their clothes and hair, dulling his keen nose, but he still noticed the moment a fresh scent joined them on the street.

The shadow Hadley cast turned its head and paused while she kept walking, then it drifted back to her.

A Low Society necromancer must not pose much of a temptation if Ambrose dismissed him so quickly.

That, or he knew Boaz Pritchard was off-limits.

The punishing stride Hadley had maintained all night didn’t falter. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I came to check on you,” Boaz called, slightly out of breath from his jog. “What do you think?”

“You should be—”

“—where it’s safe?” His winded laughter strained him. “I’m no potentate, but my job isn’t a cakewalk.”

A flash of insight into where she had learned the habit of talking over him blinded Midas.

“You need to go back to the Faraday.” She didn’t so much as turn her head. “This isn’t your fight.”

“I’m here.” Boaz caught up with them. “And I’m good at taking hits.”

That was the exact wrong thing to say to Hadley, and she stopped short, spun on