Ilona Andrews: Wildfire

“How did he seem to you?”

“He seemed concerned for me.”

Interesting. “For you? Not for Brian?”

“For me and the kids.”

“And Brian has never done anything like this before?”

She didn’t answer.

“Rynda?”

“He disappears sometimes when he’s stressed,” she said quietly. “He used to. But not for the last three years and never this long. You have to understand, Brian isn’t a coward, he just needs stability. He likes when things are calm.”

That explained why his brother didn’t immediately sound the alarm and bring all hands on deck. “Can you tell me more about it? The last time he disappeared?”

“It was after Kyle’s one-year birthday party. Edward asked him if Kyle manifested, and Brian told him no. Then Joshua, Brian’s father—he died a year later—said that Brian and I better get on with making another one, because Jessica is an empath like me, and a dud can’t lead the family.”

He called his grandson a dud. Ugh.

“Thank you,” Rynda said.

“For what?”

“For your disgust. Brian’s anxiety spiked. I felt an intense need to escape coming from him, so I told them that it was late and the children were tired. The family left. Brian didn’t come back to bed. He got into his car and drove off. He came home the next evening. That was the longest he had ever disappeared during our marriage.”

“Did he say where he went?”

“He said he just drove. He eventually found some small hotel and spent the night there. He came home because he realized that he had no place to go and he missed me and the kids. He would never leave me, and the last time I saw him, he was calm.”

Truth.

I rubbed my forehead. “Did you share this with the police?”

“Yes.”

And they dismissed her as being a hysterical woman whose husband bolted when the pressure became too much.

“Do you have access to Brian’s bank accounts?”

“Yes.” She blinked.

“Can you check if there has been any activity? Has he used his cards in the last few days?”

She grabbed her purse, rummaged through it frantically. “Why didn’t I think of . . .” She pulled the phone out and stabbed at it.

A moment passed. Another.

Her face fell. “No. Nothing.”

“Rynda, did you kill your husband?”

She stared at me.

“I need an answer.”

“No.”

“Do you know what happened to him?”

“No!”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No!”

True on all counts.

“There are several possibilities,” I said. “First, something bad could have happened to Brian as a result of House politics or his job. Second, something traumatic could’ve occurred during the workday on Thursday that caused him to go into hiding. I can look for your husband. Alternatively, I can recommend Montgomery International Investigations.”

When Dad got sick, we’d mortgaged the business to MII, and their owner, Augustine Montgomery, and our family had a complicated history, but that didn’t change the fact that MII was her best bet.

“They are a premier agency, and they are very well equipped to handle things like this. You can afford them. You should be aware that Baylor’s a small firm with a fraction of MII’s resources.”

Rynda sat very still.

Someone pounded down the hallway on small feet.

“Mom!” A small boy ran into the kitchen carrying a piece of paper. He had dark hair and Rynda’s silver eyes. She opened her arms, and he thrust a piece of paper at her. “I drew a tank! They have a tank in their garage!”

Catalina walked into the room, dark-haired, slender, a small smile on her face. “Kyle wanted to show you.”

“That’s a scary tank,” Rynda said.

“Come on.” My sister held out her hand. “I’ll show you more cool stuff.”

Kyle put the paper in front of his mother. “It’s a present for you. I’ll draw one for Dad!” He took off at a run. Catalina sighed and chased him.

Rynda watched him go with an odd look on her face.

“I’ve talked to MII.” She swallowed, and I saw a shadow of her mother’s ruthless logic in her eyes. “Montgomery turned me down.”

Augustine Montgomery declined to get involved. Interesting. I really was her last resort.

“Very well,” I said. “I will look for Brian.”

She shifted in her seat and blurted out. “I want a contract.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t want this to be an act of charity. I want to pay you.”

“That’s fine.”

“I want things defined and professional.”

“As do I.”

“And our relationship is that of a client and service provider.”

“Agreed,” I said.

A door swung open. A thunderstorm appeared behind me and was moving through our house, churning with power and magic. Rogan.

He reached my kitchen and loomed in the doorway, tall, broad-shouldered, his blue eyes dark and his magic wrapped around him like a vicious pet snapping its savage teeth. If I didn’t know him, I would’ve backed away and pulled my gun out.

“Connor!” Rynda jumped up from behind the table, cleared the distance between them, and hugged him.

And jealousy stabbed me right in the heart. He was mine.

Rogan gently put his arms around her, his blue eyes fixed on me. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Rynda choked on a sob. “Brian is missing.”

He was still looking at me. I nodded. Yes. I’m okay.

Rynda pulled away from him. “I didn’t know where to go. I . . .”

“I’m going to take care of it,” I told Rogan.

“Nevada is the best you can get,” he said, his voice perfectly calm.

I checked my laptop: 5:47 p.m. “Rynda, I have some paperwork for you to sign. There are some preliminary things I can do today, but tomorrow I’ll go and knock on BioCore’s doors. It would make things easier for me if you called ahead and advised the family that I’ll be coming by.”

“I’ll come with you,” she said.

“It would be best if I went by myself,” I told her. “People may say things to me that they might not mention in your presence. If I’ll require access to Sherwood family spaces or other restricted areas, I’ll definitely ask you to come with me.”

“What do I do now?” She was looking at Rogan, not at me.

“Sign the paperwork and go home. Brian might call or show up,” Rogan said. “You’re not alone, Rynda. Nevada will help you. I will help you.”

“I hate you for killing my mother,” she told him, her voice strained.

“I know,” he said. “It couldn’t be helped.”

“Everything is falling apart, Connor. How can it all just crumble like that?”

“It’s House life,” he said.

Rynda’s shoulders stooped. She turned to me. “Where do I sign?”

I walked her through the paperwork, fees, and stipulations. She signed and went to collect her children.

Rogan waited until she was out of sight and stepped close to me.

“She’ll need an escort home,” I said. “And someone to watch the house.” There was no telling where this investigation would lead, and extra security was never a bad idea.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, and kissed me. It was a sudden, hard kiss, fierce and hot. It burned like fire.

We broke apart, and I saw the dragon in his eyes. Rogan was preparing to go to war.

“Your grandmother is in the city,” he said, and pressed a USB drive into my hand. “You must decide tonight.”

He turned and walked away, the memory of his kiss still scorching me.

I took a deep breath and plugged the USB into my laptop.

The family sat at the dining table. I took the head spot this time. A stack of papers sat on my right, covered with a folder. I’d printed out the contents of the USB drive.