Impulse

Chapter Sixteen

Sera wasn’t sure she was going to be able to adjust to having a driver, even one that doubled as a bodyguard. “Does anyone ever sit up front with you?”

He met her gaze in the rearview mirror, but only for a moment before shifting his attention back to the road. “Not in recent memory.”

Of course not. Well, if he was going to be driving her around, he’d have to get used to being puzzled. “Thanks for taking me to the airport. It was nice to get to see my dad off.”

“Not a problem. Traffic is fairly light, so we should be back at the house within half an hour.”

“All right.” The man didn’t seem unfriendly, and no one would have picked him to escort her if he had a particular problem with coyotes. He was just stoic. But riding in the back seat while he navigated the roads felt snotty. “Am I annoying you? Asking all the questions, I mean.”

“No.” He glanced up at the mirror again. “It’s different, though. I’m not used to it.”

“Who did you drive around before?” She winced at the awkward phrasing. “Who did you drive for before. Or whom?” Stop talking, Sera. Stop talking. “Probably someone who could actually speak English, huh?”

“Mrs. Coleman, mostly.” He cleared his throat. “My name is Glenn.”

Her cheeks burned, but she still smiled. “Thanks for taking pity on me, Glenn. And—and I’m sorry about Mrs. Coleman. From everything I’ve heard, she was a very kind and generous woman.”

“She didn’t deserve the things that happened to her,” he said simply.

The mere thought of Teresa’s life made her shiver. She’d heard more than one person mutter darkly about Noah Coleman’s modern day Henry VIII drama. After giving birth to an unwanted daughter, Teresa had endured an endless string of miscarriages, each one breaking down her body and draining her spirit.

How horrible, to escape from the husband who’d abused you only to be betrayed by the family who should have been protecting you all along. Sera wanted Glenn to drive her back to the airport so she could chase down her father and hug him again.

Glenn pulled the car to a stop at a red light, and Sera glanced out the window. A Trader Joe’s stared back at her, looking like a hippie utopia tucked away in suburbia. Kat had fallen in love with the place while traveling with Andrew, and Sera’s phone was full of ecstatic text messages and lovingly snapped photos of organic frozen foods.

A culinary adventure might perk up the afternoon. “Do you think we could stop to pick up a few things? We don’t have a Trader Joe’s in New Orleans.”

Glenn looked around the nearly empty intersection and the crowded mini-mall. “I don’t think we should. Last I heard, they hadn’t found Diego Mendoza, and he knows this car.”

Just like that, her driver turned into a bodyguard. She bit back a sarcastic reply about the likelihood that Diego Mendoza was staking out grocery stores and accepted the quiet reminder gracefully. “You’re right.”

Glenn sighed and began to pull forward through the intersection as the light turned green. “If you’ll make a list, I can see that—” A blaring horn drowned out the words, and the world exploded.

Resource allocation. What an innocuous-sounding way to fight over money.

Julio rubbed his temples and squinted at his watch. “Can we—for the time being, I mean-agree not to undertake any huge projects until we see how things are going to shake out without the contributions to the Conclave?”

Levesque growled and leaned forward. “What do you call the mobile homes you purchased for Panama City Beach? If you can decide to spend a hundred grand on a whim, why are the rest of us on a leash?”

Snotty, nosy fucker. “For one thing, I’m reimbursing the council out of my own pocket. Is that your plan?”

“Enough,” Alec growled, slamming his fist down on the table. “Jesus Christ, did you take the bitchiness out just for me, or has this been going on the whole time?”

Reed lit a cigarette and offered the silver case holding the rest of them to Alec. “We save it for you.”

“Gee, thanks. And go fuck yourself.”

Andrew tapped a pen on the table. “At least now we know why the Conclave members were willing to go along with the dissolution. Alec’s a cranky bastard, and they all needed vacations.”

“Lucky us.” Levesque settled back in his seat. “Fine. How long do you think we need to wait before we start planning new projects?”

Julio refilled his water glass. “Might not hurt to lower collections a bit and wait a quarter.

Three months isn’t long, but we’ll have an idea by then.”

“We can’t possibly lower—” Levesque hesitated. Frowned. “Well, no. I suppose we don’t owe our share to the Conclave anymore. That’s the point, isn’t it?”

“Bingo.” Alec’s cell phone vibrated on the table, and he reached for it. “You’re getting it now.

No more overhead, no more ridiculous New York…” He trailed off with a frown and flipped open his phone. “What’s up?”

Julio could hear Carmen’s voice through the other end. “What time was Franklin’s flight supposed to leave?”

Alec checked his watch. “About half an hour ago, I think, but he would have wanted to be there at least an hour early. Sometimes he gets flagged by security.”

His sister’s next words chilled Julio. “Sera’s not back yet. I can’t reach her on her cell, and the drive shouldn’t have taken more than an hour at this time of day.”

Alec’s gaze snapped to Julio’s, and he covered the receiver on his phone. “Call Anna. Make sure that bastard hasn’t moved.”

Josh. Julio fumbled his phone out of his jacket pocket, but it hit the table with a clatter. By the time he picked it up, he had to struggle to breathe. Inhale, exhale. Slow down.

Anna answered with a yawn. “What’s shaking, Mendoza? You finally come up for air?”

“Any movement on Hill?” he asked, vaguely amazed that the words held no more than a tremor.

“No, the guy’s a slug. Hasn’t left his place in two days, and even that was a beer run.” Paper rustled, and Anna’s voice took on a hard edge. “Julio?”

The plastic of the phone case creaked in his grip. “Can you double check?”

“Yeah, sure.” A car door slammed. A few moments later, Anna pounded on a door. “Open up, Hill!”

Julio didn’t wait. “Break it down if you have to.”

Andrew murmured something, but Julio’s attention was focused on the splintering sound as Anna kicked in Josh’s door. She slammed around, obviously checking room by room, and finally swore. “Motherfucker. Mother fucker.”

Julio gripped the edge of the table. “Anna?”

“Tansy, celandine, black mustard seed—” A crash, like a table being overturned, and she snarled. “It’s an obfuscation spell. He must have used it to slip the tracking charm.”

Alec was already standing. “Carmen, you and Veronica get someplace secure with the bodyguards. Keep her calm. Andrew—” He pointed across the table. “Get Patrick on the horn.

We need to know our magical options. Julio, are you with me here?”

With him? How could he be, when it was happening all over again, only a thousand times worse because this time it was Sera? “She has a gun,” he said stupidly. “It’s enchanted.

Concealed.”

Alec murmured something to Carmen, then disconnected the call and leaned over Julio.

“Good, she’s armed. Jackson told me she’s a decent shot. And she’s Franklin Sinclaire’s daughter—you better believe me, Mendoza, that means she’s a tough little bitch. So get on your damn feet.”

Tough. The only thing that gave him hope. Julio rose. “That gun has a fuck ton of magic folded into it. If I have another item enchanted by the same person, can we find someone to trace the signature?”