"I do check with Lucas periodically," he said. "His father is supposed to provide me with updates, but I don't trust Benicio to be prompt or truthful if it's not in the Cabal's best interests."
"Did you think I'd disagree?"
"I didn't think you needed the constant reminders that Jasper is still out there."
The light changed and he drove another half-block before adding, "And I don't want you to think I'm obsessing about him."
"Are you?"
"I think about him as little as possible, but I'll rest easier when the writ of execution is carried out."
"Agreed. Make a left at the next street." When he did, she went on. "What's the other thing you're keeping from me?"
Again his gaze shunted her way, trying to figure out which infraction was now the topic of discussion.
Hope sighed. "Are there really so many? Honesty, Karl. It's a good thing."
A twist of a smile. "Perhaps. But in my case, complete and full disclosure of everything I've done in the past would not be a good thing. If you're referring to recent events I haven't disclosed, though, there's only one, and it isn't a secret, just a subject I wasn't ready to bring up."
"Until you take care of him?"
He shot her a reproachful look. "Do you think I wouldn't warn you of a potential threat?"
"Another werewolf in L.A. isn't a threat to me – "
"Yes, it is." His tone was firm, almost sharp. "I know you think otherwise, but I'd appreciate it if you humored me on this." Another turn and he concentrated on it more than necessary, struggling to find a lighter tone. "What gave me away? A stray thought last night when I came back?"
"I don't need my powers to read you, Karl. I'll admit, I didn't notice anything wrong last night. I was too busy going along with the drugstore excuse for Robyn – which, by the way, was clever. Sorry I didn't get it right away."
"She didn't notice."
"So you smelled another werewolf last night, then went out this morning scouting. That's when I caught on, from your expression when you came back. Is he near?"
Karl shook his head. "If he was, I'd have moved us. I caught his scent last night, but it was in the air and I couldn't find it on the ground to track. I didn't have any better luck this morning. I suspect I miscalculated the wind and he was farther away than I thought."
"Do you want to go after him now?"
"No. We have work to do. I'll look for him tonight."
ADELE
Never trust a boy to do a woman's job, Adele thought as she marched toward Robyn Peltier's apartment door.
Colm was sweet and useful, but he could be as thick as a board. Not stupid, just inexperienced. When his plan to steal a personal item failed, he was stumped. His only backup plan was to try again tonight. She couldn't wait that long.
When she told him what she planned to do, he'd freaked out. It was crazy, dangerous. Colm didn't understand that to get what you wanted in life, you had to make bold moves.
It wasn't his fault. They'd been raised to hide, not make waves. They were one of the most powerful supernatural races and what did they use those powers for? Pandering to the cult of celebrity. It was humiliating.
She still smarted from last night's meeting with the phuri. Portia Kane had been Adele's first assignment, and she'd done a damned good job, earning her keep and contributing extra to the kumpania coffers. Remarkable for what should have been a training exercise. Even Neala had been grudgingly impressed.
So how did they reward her? By giving her a true celebrity as her next target?
"You've done such a fine job with Portia, Adele, that we'd like you to continue that with Jasmine Wills."
Jasmine Wills? She could have spit in Neala's face. Was she going to spend her life chasing spoiled, empty-headed twits?
If it hadn't been for that photo, she'd be free of the group by now. It didn't matter. She still planned to be free, hopefully before she had to produce results on this new assignment. The others might have better jobs, but they had no hope of freedom. They were too indoctrinated in the kumpania's culture of fear to ever leave the kumpania – they'd certainly never have the nerve or the brains to think of actually going to a Cabal and getting a job on their own terms.
For most in the kumpania, that indoctrination began almost from birth. As toddlers, kumpania clairvoyants underwent "the lessons," which instilled a terror of the Cabals so deeply embedded that they'd need only to glimpse a face on the street to start sweating. Instinct would take over and they'd flee or fight, doing whatever it took to escape. By the time Adele got the lessons, though, she'd been six – four years older than kumpania children. They'd given her a healthy fear and respect for the Cabals, but not the gut-level terror the others felt.
"Perhaps we should not be doing this," the super said, huffing as he hurried to keep up with her.
She fixed him with a wide-eyed look and affected a honeyed accent. "Oh, I don't want to get you in any trouble. If you'd like those officers to escort me, I completely understand. But they said it was okay. I don't think they wanted to be disturbed while they ate their lunch…"
"I guess if they said it was all right…"
"Or you can call Portia's momma. She's awfully upset right now, but I'm sure it wouldn't be too much of an imposition…"
His eyes rounded, hands lifting. "No, no. That poor woman. She has been through so much."
"She'll be so grateful to you for helping us out like this."
The portly little man blushed as he unlocked the apartment door. He paused before swinging it open. "Miz Peltier's things should not be disturbed. She is a very nice lady."
Adele touched his shoulder. "I know exactly what it looks like. Poor Portia wore it the last time I saw her, at the breakfast after our cousin's wedding." Adele sighed. "She looked so pretty. That's how I'll always remember her. Miss Peltier was real sweet to dry-clean it for her, but Portia's momma is worried that with all this nasty business, she might not get it back."
The super ushered Adele inside. She'd hoped he'd wait at the door, but the nasty little man kept right on her heels, twittering away about her family's tragedy while making damned sure she didn't mess up his precious tenant's apartment.
She opened the closet.
"Are you sure you know -?" he began.
"Course I do. It's right here."
She grabbed a silk blouse that Portia Kane wouldn't be caught dead in, but looked expensive enough to pass muster with the super. As he bustled her out, Adele looked wistfully at the clothes hamper. Dirty clothing always worked better. But he wasn't going to give her any opportunity to snatch something. She could only hope Robyn was, like her, too frugal to send her blouses to the cleaners after every wearing.
Adele had been in her bedroom, clutching Robyn's silk shirt and staring at her photo for an hour, and all she knew was that Robyn was in a motel room.
Fucking lot of good that did. She didn't need the gift of clairvoyance to tell her that's where Robyn would be.
She watched the shimmering vision, trying to find a clue to which motel. Robyn sat at a computer, posture perfect, blond hair pulled back in a sleek, gleaming ponytail. Even on the run, her clothing screamed young urban professional. It made Adele want to shred the silk blouse with her nails.
It didn't help that she was trying to concentrate while listening to Lily and Hugh having sex in the next bedroom. Adele had grown up planning to marry Hugh. He was five years older than her and she'd been adopted by the kumpania for breeding, so naturally they'd pair her off with the only unmarried male close to her age. The fact that he was big and broad-shouldered and, in the right light, reminded her of a young Hugh Jackman only added fire to her fantasies. As for Lily, she was no competition. A silly ditz who had yet to successfully complete an assignment. Apparently, the kumpania disagreed.