Ким Харрисон - Every Witch Way But Dead

"This isn't making me want to help you," I said snidely, but Trent gave me a tired look.

"My father was a good man," he said softly. "He wouldn't refuse to help your father save your life when your father had already devoted his life to help him save our entire race."

Frowning, I put a hand to my stomach. I didn't like what I was feeling. My father didn't sacrifice his life in exchange for mine—which was a good thing. But he wasn't the upright, honest, hardworking I.S. runner I had thought. He had willingly helped Trent's father with his illegal activities long before I got sick.

"I'm not a bad person, Rachel," Trent said. "But I will eliminate anyone who threatens to stop the flow of money coming in. My research to repair the damage the demons did to my people's genome isn't cheap. If we could find an old enough sample, we could fix it completely. But it has degraded to the point where we don't know even the color of the pieces anymore."

My thoughts lighted on Ceri, and I steeled my face. The thought of her and Trent meeting was intolerable. Besides, she was only a thousand years old.

Trent's smooth features went tired with a worry far beyond his years. "If the money stops, the next generation of elves will start to slip again. Only if we find a sample from before the curse was twisted can we fix it completely and my species will have a chance. Your father thought it was a task worth dying for."

My eyes flicked to the tarot card with Ceri's likeness and I kept my mouth shut. Trent would use her like a tissue and throw her away.

Trent leaned back, his gaze going sharp on mine. "Well, Ms. Morgan," he said, managing to appear in control even wearing a robe and pj's. "Have I given you enough?"

For a long moment I looked at him, watching his jaw slowly tighten when he realized I was balancing and not knowing which way I was going to jump. Feeling cocky and self-assured, I raised my eyebrows. "Oh hell, Trent. I was going after Lee anyway. What do you think I was doing in your bathtub for two hours? Washing my hair?"

I had no choice but to tag Lee after he tried to blow me up. If I didn't, every mark I put behind bars was going to come out gunning for me.

Trent's face went annoyed. "You've got it figured out already, don't you?" he asked, irritation thick in his river-gray voice.

"Mostly." I beamed, and Quen sighed, clearly having seen beforehand that I was going to snooker his boss but good. "I just need to call my insurance agent and set it up."

Knowing I had gotten the better of Trent was worth more than he could ever line my pockets with, and I snorted when Quen whispered, "Her insurance agent?"

Still sitting, I pointed a finger at Trent. "I've got two things for you to do. Two things, then you back off and let me work. I'm not doing this as a committee. Understand?"

Eyebrows high, Trent said flatly, "What do you want?"

"First, I want you to go to the FIB and tell them Lee knocked out all those people and locked the doors knowing there was a bomb on the boat."

Trent laughed, his warm voice taking on a biting edge. "What is that going to get you?"

"They'll go looking for him. He'll go underground. A warrant will be filed, and with that, I have a legal right to pick him up."

Trent's eyes widened. Behind him, Quen nodded. "That's why…" Trent murmured.

I couldn't help my smile. "You can run from the law, but standing up your insurance adjustor?" I shook my head. "Not a good idea."

"You're going to get in to kill him posing as an insurance agent?"

I wished I could say I was surprised. God, he was so arrogant. "I don't kill people, Trent. I haul their asses to lockup, and I need a reason for keeping him there. I thought he was your friend."

A hint of uncertainty flickered over Trent. "I thought he was, too."

"Maybe his girlfriend knocked him on the head and forced him into leaving?" I said, not believing it. "Wouldn't you feel bad if you killed him, then found out he had tried to save you?"

Trent gave me a weary look. "Always seeing the best in a person, Ms. Morgan?"

"Yeah. Except with you." I started making a mental list of who I had to tell I was alive: Kisten, Jenks—if he'd listen—Ceri, Keasley…Nick? Oh God, my mom. That one ought to be fun.

Pushing his fingers into his forehead, Trent sighed. "You have no idea how this works."

Affronted, I puffed at him and his smarter-than-thou attitude. "Work with me here, huh? Letting the bad guy live might be good for your soul."

He didn't look convinced; he looked patronizing. "Letting Lee live is a mistake. His family won't like him in jail. They'd rather have him dead than be an embarrassment."

"Well isn't that just too bad. I'm not going to kill him, and I'm not going to let you kill him, either, so sit down, shut up, hold on, and watch how real people solve problems."

Trent shook his head to make his hair float about his redrimmed ears. "What's arresting Lee going to get you? His lawyers will have him out before he can sit on a jail-cell cot."

"Voice of experience?" I mocked, seeing as I almost had him there last fall.

"Yes," he said darkly. "The FIB has my fingerprints on file, thanks to you."

"And the I.S. has a sample of my DNA for identification purposes. Suck it up."

Quen made a soft sound, and I suddenly realized we were arguing like children.

Looking peeved, Trent settled back in his chair and laced his fingers over his middle. Fatigue pulled at him. "Admitting I was on that boat is going to be difficult. We weren't seen leaving. And it would be hard to explain how we survived and everyone else died."

"Be inventive. Maybe the truth?" I said cockily. Pushing Trent's buttons was kinda fun. "Everybody knows he's trying to jerk Cincinnati out from under you and Piscary. Go with it. Just leave me dead in the river."

Trent eyed me carefully. "You're going to tell your FIB captain you're alive, yes?"

"That's one of the reasons you're going to file with the FIB and not the I.S." My gaze went to the stairway as Jonathan's tall form started down it. He seemed irritated, and I wondered what was up. No one said anything as he approached, and I wished I hadn't pushed Trent so far. The man didn't look happy. It would be just like him to kill Lee out from under me. "You want Saladan out of the city?" I said. "I'll do that for you for free. All I want is you to file a complaint and pay for the lawyer to keep him in prison. Can you do that for me?"

His face went empty as thoughts he didn't want to share with me passed through his mind. Nodding slowly, he beckoned Jonathan closer.

Taking that as a yes, I felt my shoulders ease. "Thanks," I muttered as the tall man bent to whisper in Trent's ear and Trent's gaze shot to me. I strained to hear, getting nothing.

"Keep him at the gate," Trent said, glancing at Quen. "I don't want him on the grounds."

"Who?" I said, wondering.

Trent stood and tightened the tie on his robe. "I told Mr. Felps I'd arrange for your return, but he seems to think you're in need of rescuing. He's waiting for you at the gatehouse."

"Kisten?" I stifled a jerk. I'd be glad to see him, but I was afraid of the answers he would have for me. I didn't want him to have planted that bomb, but Ivy had said he did. Damn it, why did I always fall for the bad boys?

While the three men waited, I stood and gathered my things, hesitating before I stuck my hand out. "Thank you for your hospitality…Trent," I said, pausing only briefly as I tried to decide what to call him. "And thanks for not letting me freeze to death," I added.

A soft smile quirked the corners of his lips at the hesitation, and he met my firm grip with his own. "It was the least I could do, seeing as you kept me from drowning," he answered. His brow furrowed, clearly wanting to say more. Breath held, he changed his mind and turned away. "Jonathan, will you accompany Ms. Morgan to the gate-house? I want to talk to Quen."