Cipher

“Bath,” he corrected. “And keep that arm dry.”

She hadn’t brought a change of clothes, and the bathtub looked so questionable she opted to do the best she could with a towel and some warm water. The grimy mirror reflected an unpleasant picture—pale skin, tangled hair, bruised-looking eyes. She did her best to avoid her own reflection as she washed, then dragged her fingers through her shaggy hair and gathered the mess up on top of her head.

Trying to rinse her shirt in the sink proved pointless, and the effort just made her left arm burn. She abandoned the garment in the garbage can and pulled on the closest thing to a shirt that she had—a black hoodie with the word meh emblazoned across the front in all its apathetic glory.

Meh pretty much covered it. She eased the sweatshirt on over her bra and zipped it up as she returned to the main room. “I really need to buy some clothes.”

He rose and passed her on his way to the small bathroom. “We’ll take care of that as soon as we figure out—” His words cut off in a curse.

Kat jumped and regretted it. “What?”

He backed out of the bathroom and turned, his eyes shadowed. “You left your stuff all over.”

“My T-shirt? Why would it…” Shit. Sera was addicted to one of the thousands of procedural crime shows that cluttered the airwaves every Wednesday, which made Kat a captive audience. “You mean I need to clean up the evidence?”

Andrew averted his gaze. “More like it’s a damn hard thing to look at.”

“Oh.” He’d been acting so restrained that she’d forgotten the main reason alpha shifters drove her insane— the stifling, oppressive protectiveness. Even Sera, the most submissive shifter Kat had ever met, got downright testy when she thought her human roommate was in danger. The fact that Andrew hadn’t dragged her into the bathroom to bathe her himself probably evidenced the kind of self-control people gave medals for.

Against her better judgment she reached out and touched Andrew’s shoulder. His skin was hot under her fingertips, and she traced the swooping whorl of one of the phoenix’s stylized feathers before she could stop herself. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Kat.” He tensed, and his voice dropped to a rasp.

“Sorry.” She leaned into him, pressing her forehead to his shoulder as she snuck her good arm around him in an awkward hug. “Thank you. For not flipping out and getting neurotic bossy alpha on me. But if there’s something I can do that’ll make it easier, you can ask.”

He smoothed her hair. “Help me figure out what comes next.”

No commands. No plan, already outlined and fixed into place. She swallowed hard and held him tighter. “My technopathic friend lives in Birmingham. If we need to keep off the grid, he’s the guy to see. I think it’s farther than going back home, but he could probably figure out where this key belongs.”

“The harder we are to track without magic, the better. Hell, the harder we are to track with it.”

“I can email Ben before we leave. He could have IDs and credit cards for us by the time we got there.”

Which would mean a real hotel, with a bath she wasn’t afraid to climb into and sheets she’d let touch her body. “Ben will know the local magical community too.”

“Good. We might need that.”

Kat didn’t want to ask the next question, but she had to. “My life’s boring right now, but you have things to do. Important things. Do you need to—” Both his eyebrows shot up. “Are you about to say what I think you’re about to say?”

Stepping back gave her space. “Someone should say it.”

“Does someone also want her cousin to find out she got shot before she gets what she came here for?”

Not so reasonable after all, then. Kat could read between the lines. Andrew would let her pursue any leads she felt the need to, as long as he got to watch her back. “That’s a little bit like blackmail.”

“It’s a little bit like self-preservation,” he argued. “I don’t want Derek to murder me.”

Whatever the reason, she didn’t have to do it alone. “So we go to Birmingham?”

“We go to Birmingham.” He backed toward the bathroom. “I’ll clean up in here. You get on the line with what’s-his-name.”

“Ben.” Kat reached out and caught Andrew’s hand, and damnable butterflies fluttered to life in her stomach at the simple touch. “Thanks. Even if you’re only doing it for Derek.”

He looked down at her, his mouth set in a firm line. “I’m doing it for you. I’m just not above blaming Derek.”

She couldn’t look away. “It means a lot. More.”

He pulled away with a quick nod. “Shouldn’t take more than four hours or so to get there. We’ll hit 65 and head north.”

“Got it.” Kat checked her wrist out of instinct before she remembered she’d lent her watch to Sera twenty- four very long hours ago. She circled the bed on the way to her bag and caught a glimpse of the cheap bedside clock. Bright red numbers informed her it was just after six in the morning.

Way too early. If she knew Ben, he’d only fallen into bed a few hours ago. She’d never actually called him before—she’d never needed to, considering how much easier it was to use voice-chat— but his number was stored in her address book along with the numbers to every takeout restaurant within ten miles of her apartment.

She dug her phone out of her bag and plugged it in to charge before calling Ben. After four rings, she was directed to his voicemail.

Sorry, Ben. She left a brief message, then began the systematic process of annoying him awake with a series of text messages. The first was her phone number, followed by a string of abrupt notes typed as fast as she could manage.

Got shot.

Need papers.

Coming to town.

I thought you always answer text messages.

Even if your phone is on vibrate.

Or if you’re asleep.

Or drunk.

Wake up, lazy ass. Or I’ll stop using punctuation.

BTW, I’m stuck in a crappy motel room.

With Andrew.

She was seriously considering a few messages filled with creative obscenities—or offenses against the English language—when “The Ride of the Valkyries” filled the room. Kat jabbed at her phone to answer the call. “Ben?”

“You got shot? What the fuck?” Ben’s voice was groggy with sleep, but familiar enough from long hours of gaming to bring the stark absurdity of her present circumstances into sharp focus. The residual warmth from her quiet moment with Andrew faded, leaving her cold and scared as she outlined the story to Ben.

Just as well. A little fear was probably appropriate for her first foray into fake identities. And if she concentrated on that, she wouldn’t have to dwell on why she needed one, or who might be out to get her.

Or Andrew.

Chapter Five

They hit Montgomery right at rush hour, so Andrew circled the city to avoid traffic. The rest of the drive to Birmingham went smoothly, though it took forever to park.

“That’s it,” he told Kat as he opened her door. “The Watts building.”

The sun was bright overhead, but the air still held a cold bite. Kat shivered and pulled up the hood on her