“Like some evolutionary shift for battling the bad guy?”
“That’s my theory. He comes from a strong line. His father took the arm of our suspect Kairos, but it wasn’t enough to reboot him. I think this warrior might have the ability to help.”
Anne clapped her hands together. “Well, then, there we go. Problem solved. Glad I could help.”
She stood and Michael cocked an eyebrow.
“What?”
“There are complications.”
Anne flopped back down again. “Why are there always complications?”
“He doesn’t know what powers he has or how to use them.”
“So tell him.”
“We don’t know either. Though I think a big part of his enhanced strength is to protect the other. The female. She might be our answer.”
“How so?”
“We’re not sure yet.”
Anne bit her lip, staring at Michael. “You know, for such powerful beings, you people—” She paused. “I mean, you Angeli, really don’t seem to know much of anything.”
“I’m starting to realize that myself.” Michael reached out and took Anne’s hand in his, his blue eyes staring deep into her own. The dimple on his left cheek deepened.
That’s not good.
“What are you up to?”
Michael smiled. “They’re going to need training.”
The door of the apartment opened and Anne’s assistant, Jeffrey, entered, grocery bags hanging from both hands.
“They didn’t have the kind of jelly you wanted so—” Jeffrey scowled at Michael. “What’s he doing here? And why do you both look so serious?”
“Guess,” said Anne.
Jeffrey’s jaw fell slack. “I thought we were done with all of that.” He put the groceries down on the kitchen island with a pouty flounce.
“On the upside, I think we’re going to Los Angeles,” Anne called to him.
Jeffrey perked. “Ooh, can we go to Spago?”
“Is that still a thing?”
Michael sniffed. “They just had a remodel.”
“How do you know that? Never mind. Just get us packed, Jeffrey.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
Anne slid her hand out from under Michael’s. “So, what’s this special Kairos name?”
“Brochan.”
“Brochan, who?”
Michael looked up to the right as if searching for the answer. “No last name. Not at the moment.”
“How am I supposed to find a guy with one name?”
“Oh. He works at Parasol Pictures. His father, Sean Shaft works there as well.”
“Sean Shaft? What is he? A porn star?”
Michael ignored her. “Sean’s adopted daughter, Catriona Phoenix, the special one, works with them as well.”
“Catriona Phoenix? Where are they getting these names? Aren’t there any named Bob Jones? Todd Smith?”
“I could get you a list of all the Kairos’ names if you’d like to compile a directory.”
“No, thank you. Long story short, I have to go to Parasol Pictures in L.A.”
“Yes. But watch out for an actress there named Fiona Duffy.”
“She’s the bad guy?”
“No, his name is Rune.”
“Again with the stupid names.”
“Catriona and Fiona are Rune’s daughters. We don’t know where Fiona falls yet. Early reports don’t place her on our side.”
“Gotcha. Could be she’s special, too? In a bad way?”
“Could be.”
Anne turned to Jeffrey and twirled her finger in the air. “You’re not packing yet?”
“I’m putting away the food.”
Anne moved into the kitchen. “I’ll do that. You fold better than I do.”
Jeffrey slumped toward the bedrooms with a dramatic sigh. “Here we go again.”
Chapter Seventeen
Broch tore strips of cloth from the fallen ninjas’ costumes and used them to dress the stab wound and gag and tie the unconscious man to Catriona’s already hobbled victim.
Broch dragged Catriona’s victim to his stab victim and loosened his ties enough that he could guide the man’s hand to his friend’s side. He pressed the ninja’s palm into the blood.
“Keep pressure oan that wound.”
Broken Knee’s eyes widened and he said what sounded like you’ve got to be kidding me as well as he could with a gag in his mouth.
Broch squat down and patted Knee on his cheek. “Ye’d rather he die?”
Knee rolled his eyes and pressed.
Catriona and Broch moved to the far left door to find it opened to a room as the acolyte had promised, empty but for a desk and a chair. The surface of the desk was empty, apart from a silver-framed, larger version of the photo Mason had shown Catriona of his father at the U.S. Open.
Catriona lifted the photo to study it more closely. “Does this seem odd to you?”
Broch cocked an eyebrow. “Aye. Is thare anythin’ ’ere that isnae odd?”
“True. But this...” Catriona tapped the frame.
“Mebbe he’s been keeking Dungeon Decorating on the HGTV.” Broch laughed at his own joke. He’d been smitten with house shows as of late. They served as a primer for modern conveniences for him and as far as Catriona could tell, now he wanted all of them.
“Look at you with the modern references.”
He beamed. “Ah’m a fast learner.”
“Mm. Right. Because we all say keek instead of watch nowadays. Can we get back to saving the missing actress?”
“Aye. Sorry. Whit is it with the picture?”
“This photo struck me when Mason first showed it to us. Some sort of blood-sport I’d buy, but golf seems civilized for a guy who spends his spare time snipping off people’s pinkies.”
Broch huffed. “There’s nothin’ civilized aboot golf. Ah played wance. It made me wantae wrap mah club aroond someone’s neck.”
Catriona closed her eyes and tried to remember watching the U.S. Open with Sean. She found herself sitting on Sean’s sofa in his office at Parasol. Golf played on the small television. Sean sat, tilted back in his office chair, feet on his desk, watching.
There must be something here.
Behind Sean hung a calendar. Staring at it, she could feel it was June sixteenth, a Friday. Golf generally ran from Thursday to Sunday, so that meant the tournament had run from
