quite the stark terror she’d seen on Farrell’s face, but she suspected it would appear if she were to reach for them.
They fled back to their duties the instant Laura and her daughters moved past Etain, leaving a tight-lipped Rhys with his distinctive red-sun earring standing next to Liam.
“Shall I escort you upstairs?” Liam asked, his voice the chilled dark of icy rain on a deserted road.
“No.” She took a step toward the door and saw the Elves stationed there blanch. “I’m leaving.”
“I don’t advise it. This is a perilous time for you.”
“So I’ve been told. And don’t bother playing the
He blocked her exit and immediately the eyes on her palms flared, becoming a weapon. His gaze flicked downward and back, cold ruthlessness the only thing in them. “You’re allowing magic to get the upper hand.”
“I’m in control.”
His smile was a merciless flash of white. “Openly stripping a human of their memories?”
His gaze dropped to her hands, remaining there for a heartbeat before meeting hers again. “Threatening violence you have no true understanding of? These are the actions of someone in control?”
Her skin dampened. Doubt crowded in.
She dispersed it with the stiffening of her spine and a step forward, into Liam’s personal space. “Unless you intend to keep me prisoner here, move out of my way.”
“The price you pay for this may be your life.”
“Yeah, yeah.” That particular threat was losing impact. Or maybe it couldn’t stand against the conviction her mother had left the memory for her, and more than that, a clue meant to help her survive the change.
She’d never believe the captain was involved in an affair. Never. He was a man of too much principle.
Her mother’s making contact with him on the very day Cathal and Eamon had come into
“Move,” Etain said, a direct order.
“The consequences are yours to suffer.” But he stepped to the side and his yielding signaled the Elves stationed at the door to open it for her.
She escaped, breathing deeply of air that smelled of freedom and possibility. Lifting her face to the sky, the caress of muted sunshine was soothing balm and sharp contrast to the wild hammering of her heart and the flood of riotous emotion that surged into her as she relived the stolen memory.
The desire to see her mother again was a tidal-wave swell she couldn’t hold back. Why? Always why? Why did you leave me? Little girl pain at the core of a woman grown.
This time, there was an answer. Sibilant Dragon’s voice validating what she believed to be true, expanding on it.
The sigil representing servitude appeared, banishing stolen memory. Etain rebelled against the thought of accepting it. And that rebellion brought renewed focus and determination, enough to hold back the trepidation and deeply engrained fear, a kneejerk reaction to her ultimate destination—the police station where twice she’d been held, and twice the barriers separating her reality from that of all the victims she’d touched had fallen away.
Longing swept into her with the temptation to call Cathal. She wanted to hear his voice, wanted him with her, but reason dictated she go alone to see the captain. Or as alone as someone accompanied by a shadow- walking assassin could be, even if he’d apparently elected to watch her from a distance given his absence at her side.
She headed toward Stylin’ Ink, cursing the fuck-me heels and tight skirt by the time she stepped off the first curb. Finally removing the tortuous shoes and walking barefoot until she reached the front door.
Cat calls greeted her as soon as she entered the shop. She laughed, because obviously the expensive clothes meant to make her fit into Eamon’s world didn’t separate her from this one. Derrick left his station, striding rather than flouncing, his movements telling her the man lying facedown on the massage table was a homophobe, probably gay and in extreme denial of it. Derrick was a magnet for them.
Hugging her, Derrick whispered, “I must have a pair of those shoes. Simply must!”
“Eamon’s choice. They’d probably cost a month’s rent.”
“Knock-offs, darling. They’re god’s gift to the working man.”
“More like organized crime’s.”
She ruthlessly suppressed all curiosity about Niall and Denis Dunne’s activities.
“Whatever,” Derrick said, drawing away. “You look exquisite. That man
“I’ll let Eamon know he’s got your seal of approval. In the meantime I’m just going to hobble on back to Bryce’s office and change into something I can actually cover some distance in.”
“You planning on running?” Jamaal called from his workstation. “I figured it was about that time. You’ve been with the same guy, maybe the same two for what? A week now? Got to be some kind of a record for you.”
“I’m reformed,” she said, going around the counter.
“Sex must be mighty fine then.”
She wasn’t quick enough to block the image of DaWanda above him, though she got rid of it by asking, “Where’s Bryce?”
“Back anytime.”
She went into Bryce’s office, opening the cabinet where the last shirt and pair of jeans plus an old pair of tennis shoes were stashed to save her from having to cross the bay. “I am definitely going back to my apartment today,” she muttered, shimmying out of elegant and expensive, except for the necklace, then pulling on worn and comfortable.
Bryce was steps away from the office door when she emerged. “Shit, Etain, couldn’t you have stayed in the fancy clothes for another couple of minutes? I missed the show.”
“Take a look at that necklace and you’ll get an idea of what it was like,” Jamaal said.
Bryce whistled then rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “Nothing says sexual satisfaction like expensive jewelry.”
Jamaal laughed. “No surprise there, not the way we nearly had ourselves a peep show earlier today.”
“Eamon know you don’t give a shit about being decked out in bling?” Bryce said, capturing her in a hug and touching his nose to her neck. He inhaled loudly. “Yeah, smells like money all right. Lots and lots of money.”
“Plebeians,” Derrick muttered.
Bryce laughed. “Never claimed to be a class act.”
He let Etain go. “Where are you going that you decided to ditch both your men?”
“I need to take care of some things on my own. Mind giving me a lift somewhere? It’s not far.”
No point in doubling back for her bike or taking somebody else’s ride. She was guessing Eamon would arrive shortly, or send Cathal to collect her.
“Ohhhh,” Derrick said, “now she’s being secretive. Well, we have our ways of making her talk.”
“Hell,” Jamaal said, “we don’t need to make her talk. Bryce’ll give us the lowdown when he gets back.”
Bryce dangled his cars keys. “Ready? This has to be quick. I’ve got a piercing coming in.”
It was quick. Too quick as far as Etain was concerned. And Bryce was too perceptive, zeroing in on a fear she couldn’t completely swallow and cutting the engine to signal she didn’t have to immediately get out of the car and enter police headquarters.
“Are you in trouble? Shop bullshit aside, if you want to talk, whatever you say stays with me.”
“No trouble.” She managed a smile. “Except maybe with Eamon for bailing on Aesirs. Bad memories of this place, that’s all.”
She opened the door and slid from the car. “Thanks for the lift.”
He waited, making sure she didn’t have second thoughts before starting the car and driving away.
Liam appeared at her side. She didn’t even flinch.
“Lord Eamon will not be pleased.”
“Probably not.”
She wiped damp palms against her jeans, the chill of remembered panic and terror pebbling her skin as her
