He blinked awake immediately at the sound of the door opening, looking much less out-of-it than he had earlier.
“I need to leave,” I blurted, standing frozen two steps from the doorway.
He frowned. “Pressing engagement elsewhere, luv?” he asked in a voice made gravelly by sleep. “The sex wasn’t that bad, was it?”
But I only shook my head impatiently. “I have to get to Chicago,” I insisted, forging ahead. “My dad’s in trouble.”
Rans hefted himself into a sitting position, still frowning—the duvet slipping dangerously. “Tell me you didn’t call him.”
“No. Edward did, through a secure VPN... thing,” I said quickly. “He was going to pretend to be a customer service representative so no one would suspect anything, but...” I cut myself off, swallowing hard.
“But?” Rans prompted.
“Dad’s cell phone is out of service and his landline has been disconnected,” I said in a rush. “He’s lived in that condo for more than eight years! He didn’t have any plans to leave. And he’s an accountant. No way did he forget to pay the bills or something.”
“Damn. That’s... not good,” Rans agreed grimly.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. It was shaking.
“I need to get up there,” I said. “If you could... I dunno... help me get through security again and get onto a plane, I can probably handle things on the other end. I’ve got Guthrie’s ID still, and—”
“No,” Rans said evenly, cutting off my disjointed babble. “You’re not running straight into a Fae trap on my watch.”
“I have to help him.”
“Of course you do, Zorah. He’s your father,” Rans said, bringing the sting of unwanted tears to my eyes. “But you can do it the smart way, or you can charge in like they expect you to and cock up the whole thing. That won’t help anyone, will it?”
I took several deep breaths. “Then what do you suggest? I can’t just leave him in their hands while I dick around in Atlantic City waiting for a better plan to present itself.”
He regarded me thoughtfully for a long moment before he spoke. “I don’t think this has occurred to you yet, but there’s another possibility here.”
My brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Rans sighed. “Look. Someone tipped off Caspian that you were going to take a bus out of St. Louis. From the way you described it, there were only two people who knew about your plans.”
The bottom dropped out of my stomach. “No,” I said immediately, shaking my head.
“You need to at least keep it in mind,” Rans insisted. “Otherwise you’re setting yourself up to be played.”
“No,” I repeated more forcefully, even though the seeds of doubt had been irreparably planted as soon as he’d said the words. “I don’t believe it.”
“You don’t have to believe it. You just have to be aware that it’s a possibility.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Now. If you charge in without a thought in your head for strategy, you’re going to ensure that I took a silver knife to the shoulder for nothing. Let me talk to someone I know in Chicago and see what I can learn. When we have a better idea of the landscape, we’ll go there together.”
I swallowed, trying to moisten my dry throat. “Why?” I asked. “Why are you still going out of your way for me?”
The half-smile he gave me was a bit wistful. “Told you earlier, luv. You’re my loose thread. I pulled you, and now your dad seems to have popped free. I haven’t unraveled the jumper yet, though. Still plenty of stitches left.”
I chewed my lower lip. “All right. Just... don’t take too long.”
He slid out of bed, all graceful lines, and crossed to stand in front of me, unconcerned by his nakedness. I gazed up at clear blue eyes set in a serious face. His hand cupped my cheek, mirroring the gesture I’d extended to him earlier. Again, I felt the sting of tears, and I blinked them back ruthlessly.
“I won’t,” he promised. “Trust me, Zorah.”
My eyes slipped closed, and I nodded in reluctant agreement.
TWENTY
TWO DAYS LATER, I white-knuckled my way through the touchdown at O’Hare airport in Chicago. This time, I’d been less surprised when Rans tangled my fingers with his for both the takeoff and landing. We’d also flown through a thunderstorm en route. Winds buffeting the delicate structure of the aircraft until I thought I’d bite straight through my lower lip, but Rans’ claim of being statistically crash-proof had thankfully held.
“We’ll be meeting my contact here at the airport,” he said as we disembarked. “He’s been looking into things, so once we speak to him, we can decide what to do and go from there.”
We’d only brought a single carryon bag each, so we didn’t have to wait at the baggage claim like we had in Philly.
“Why didn’t you pack the pointy things this time?” I asked. “I mean, why take the trouble to get them to Atlantic City, but not here?”
“Nigellus doesn’t keep weapons,” Rans told me. “My contact here does, should we have need of any.”
Somehow, that seemed ominous, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. It was probably a moot point in my case, regardless—it’s not like I was going to be taking out anyone with a sword. Indeed, I’d been freaked out enough by the silver knife Rans had gifted me, that I’d taken advantage of the delay in Atlantic City to have Edward get the best price for it he could at an area pawn shop.
I had no idea how to use a dagger, but I was pretty sure I could come up with a use for an extra couple of hundred bucks at some point.
Rans’ mysterious contact had told
