“Is Mom home?”

“Yus!”

“Find her and tell her that Rogan’s security team is watching our house. Please ask her not to shoot them.”

“Okay! Nevada?”

“What?” If she asked me about Rogan, I swear I would . . .

“Will you pick up some sushi for dinner?”

“Yes.”

“No nasty mayo sauce?”

“No mayo.”

“Will you tell Mad Rogan that he should ma . . . ?”

I hung up and turned to Cornelius. “How would you feel about moving into our house for the duration of the investigation?”

Cornelius blinked.

“This is going to get dangerous and complicated,” I said. “The people behind this aren’t going to have moral scruples over doing terrible things such as kidnapping and torturing a child. Our warehouse has an excellent security system, and it’s protected by Rogan’s people. If they somehow get past Rogan’s soldiers, they’ll have to deal with my mother, who’s a former sniper; my grandmother, who builds tanks; and four teenagers who have no fear of death and who all have been taught to shoot properly. You and Matilda will be safe.”

“But we have animals,” Cornelius said.

“We have a lot of room and an entire guest apartment built into the corner of the warehouse. My sisters would love to watch Matilda.”

“She’s right,” Rogan said. “You’re welcome to stay here as well, if you would prefer.”

Cornelius blinked. Leaving your daughter in the house of a man who leveled cities when he got upset wasn’t the most prudent move.

“Thank you. It would be rude of me to reject Nevada’s invitation.”

“Of course,” Rogan said and winked at me.

And he’d just manipulated Cornelius. This would be one hell of a partnership.

“Do we have a plan?” Cornelius asked.

Both of them looked at me. Right. I was the investigator, so they expected me to investigate.

“Has Bug been able to identify who the lawyers were supposed to meet?”

“No,” Rogan said.

I turned to Cornelius. “And you have no idea whom Nari was meeting or why?”

“No,” Cornelius said.

“Has anyone talked to the family members of the other lawyers?”

“No,” Rogan said.

I got up. “Then I’ll start there.”

“I’ll come with you,” Cornelius said.

“Not this time,” I said gently.

“Why?”

“Because your wife and their spouses knew each other socially. They may have an emotional reaction to your presence, and we need information. I promise that I’ll let you know tonight what I’ve learned. Also, you have a household to move.”

“I’ll arrange for escort.” Rogan pulled out his phone.

“Thank you but I got it,” I said.

“Not yours. His.” Rogan texted on his phone. “I’m coming with you. I’ve agreed to a partnership. I’ll participate in this investigation or the deal is off.”

I’d just assured Cornelius that Rogan and I could work together. There was no reasonable pretext to keep him from coming with me. I had to stay professional about this.

“Very well. However, I have some conditions. You have to promise not to kill people I’m about to question or intimidate them unless I ask you to. Specifically, please don’t strangle anyone with their clothes again.”

Cornelius’ eyes widened.

“Fine. Anything else?” Rogan asked, his voice dry.

“Yes. Please change so you look less like a Prime. I don’t want anyone to recognize you. It’s very hard to get people to open up when they realize the Scourge of Mexico is on their doorstep.”

Chapter 4

Half an hour later, the contracts were signed and witnessed by me and the woman who brought them. The woman led me down to the front door, where my minivan waited. The keys were in the ignition. I got into the driver’s seat.

I could just drive off and leave Rogan hanging. That would be hilarious. Of course, he would probably chase me down with something ridiculous, like his own private flying fortress or some such nonsense.

The front door swung open, and Bug slipped out and trotted to the car. I rolled down the window.

“Hey.” He leaned so his elbows rested in the open window. “Are you going to stick around for a while?”

“Looks as if I don’t have a choice.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

“It’s been sixteen-hour workdays around here for the past two months. There was a lot of fallout from the Pierce crap. The major had to testify before the Assembly, and four people tried to bring lawsuits, but the bulk of the work was surveillance. This thing, whatever the hell it is, is bleeding amorphous. You sort of find evidence of it, and then the dick fucker just slips from your fingers. This Forsberg’s lawyer meeting was the first solid thing we had, then Tuesday happened . . .”

Getting through the stream of Bug’s consciousness was like hacking your way through a jungle.

“We couldn’t get to Forsberg until today. Yesterday was rough. He went to notify all the families in person. Luanne was one of the sixteen.”

Bug looked at me to make sure I understood the gravity of the situation. Except I didn’t.

“I don’t know what that means.”

He made a sour face. “Just . . . stick around. He has a human expression on his face when you’re around.”

“Thanks, Bug. I’m glad to see you too.” Apparently my function was to keep a human expression on Rogan’s face. Good to know. And here I thought I was spearheading an investigation. How silly of me.

The door opened, and Rogan came out. Bug took off. Rogan watched him go and strode to the car. He’d abandoned his about-to-go-on-a-sorcerous-rampage outfit for old khaki cargo pants, beat-up boots, and a green Henley. The shirt molded to his shoulders and chest. His biceps stretched the sleeves. He looked strong, and rugged, and rough around the edges. He needed an ax or something, so he could casually swing it while he walked. I tilted my head and just watched.

He opened the door and got in. And suddenly the car was full of Rogan and his magic. I could barely breathe.

How had I ever agreed to this? I needed my head examined.

“What did he say?” he asked.

“Just Bug being Bug.”

“You’re avoiding the answer.”

“You’re so perceptive.”

Rogan regarded me with his blue eyes, took out a baseball hat, and put it on. Dragon in camouflage, going down to the village to spy on the delicious people living there.

He clicked his teeth, biting through the air.

I had to stop thinking about dragons.

I shifted out of park and concentrated on driving. I liked being in the car with him. God help me, I missed this. I missed him.

“Is that a new perfume?” Rogan asked.

“I’m not wearing any. What does it smell like?”

“Citrus.”

“That’s probably my shampoo.”

Talk about work, look straight ahead, don’t think about reaching over and sliding my hand down his chest to feel the solid wall of his abs . . . Don’t imagine kissing him . . .