Straightening, she brought the bullet casing to her nose and took a whiff. “Been doing a little target practice?”
As she held the empty round up, he wanted to curse. Especially as she smiled coldly. “This is freshly discharged—no more than twenty minutes, maybe thirty since it was shot out of a gun.”
Tucking the borrowed weapon into the small of his back, he came down as fast as he could, and when they were actually face-to-face, he’d never felt so powerless in his life. He’d tried to scare her away; that clearly hadn’t worked. Maybe honesty would do the trick.
He traced her face with his eyes, that stubborn, beautiful face. “Please,” he said quietly. “I’m begging you. Let this whole thing go.”
“You keep talking about danger—but all I’m seeing is a man without a memory on a wild-goose chase. Look, just talk to me—”
“Jim Heron’s dead. And I don’t know who owns that Harley, or who was shooting—”
“So who are you talking to up there? And if you say no one, you’re lying. There’s no way you took that bike here. No way—and its engine is still ticking. I bet if I went over and put my hand on the block, it would be warm.”
“You really need to let this all go—”
“I’m not putting any of this in the paper—we’ve already established that. Everything’s off the record—”
“So why do you care?”
“I’m more than my job.”
He threw up his hands. “Why the hell am I arguing with you. You won’t even wear a goddamn seat belt in the car. Why would I expect you to—”
At that moment, the door opened and Jim Heron came out into the sunlight.
Mels looked up at the guy and shook her head. “Well, as I live and breathe…you know, you look a helluva lot like a construction worker who was shot and killed about two weeks ago. Matter of fact, I worked on the article in the CCJ about you.”
Matthias squeezed his eyes together. “Son of a bitch…”
The first piece of good news, Jim thought, was that the woman threw a shadow. No chance she was a Devina-ogram.
The second was Matthias’s little all-mine performance. That cruel bastard had never called dibs on anyone other than in a target situation—hadn’t acted protective toward a living soul. But something in this fire-eyed reporter with the attitude had gotten through to him—and that did not suck.
The female in question glanced at Matthias. Glared at him was more like it. “Not going to introduce us?”
“I’ll do it myself,” Jim announced as he started down the stairs.
“How refreshing to think manners aren’t dead,” she muttered. “Then again, with the way you boys go, dead’s not really a binary term, is it.”
Matthias was not happy behind those Ray-Bans of his, but he was going to have to get over that. Along with a few other things.
“I’m Jim.” He stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Her expression was all about the oh-please, but she extended her palm. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on here—”
The instant contact was made, he put her into a trance: She just stared up at him, relaxed, ready to be informed, her short-term memory wiped clean.
Cool. He wasn’t sure he could pull it off.
Matthias locked a vicious hold on Jim’s arm. “What the f**k did you do to her?”
“Nothing. Just a little hypnosis.” He glanced at his old boss. “Here’s what’s going to happen. She won’t remember me—neater and cleaner that way. And you’re going to take her to the hotel that I’m reserving a room for you in—”
Matthias was focused only on his reporter. “Mels? Mels—are you okay—”
Jim put his face right up into the guy’s eye. “She’s fine—haven’t you ever heard of Heron the Magnificent?”
Annnnnnnnd out came the gun. Matthias shoved the barrel right into Jim’s neck, and suddenly the other man’s jaw was right where it had always been, tight, hard, all about the get-’er-done.
“What the f**k did you do to her.” Not a question. More like the countdown to a trigger pulling.
“Well,” Jim said reasonably, “if you pop me in the carotid, you’ll never get her out of it, will you.”
Actually, if the guy shot him, nothing was going to happen. But they had enough drama going on here, and he wasn’t sure he could do this mind trick with two people at the same time. More to the point, given Matthias’s tricky mental landscape, Jim didn’t want to run the risk of blowing the bastard’s brain up with the truth about the whole angel-demon thing. Not yet, at any rate.
That gun didn’t waver. “Bring her back. Now.”
“You’re taking her to your hotel room.”
“I’m the one with the gun. I make the plans.”
“Think about it. If you’re with her, then you can make sure I leave her alone, right?”
Matthias’s voice dropped an octave. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
“And neither do you.” Jim leaned into the guy. “You need me. I’m the only one who can tell you what you want to know—trust me on this. I’m more aware than you about exactly how buried your past is, and nobody’s going to break that barrier but me. So get in that f**king beater, have her drive you to the Marriott downtown, and I’ll get there when I’m good and goddamn ready.”
Matthias just stayed where he was, squaring off for the longest time. “I could shoot you right now.”
“So do it.”
Matthias frowned and brought his free hand to his temple like his head hurt. “I…shot you, didn’t I….”
“We’ve got a long history. And if you want to find out about it, you will stick with her—no arguments. I’ve got you by the short hairs, and I’m calling the shots. Nice f**king change of pace, if I do say so myself.”
Jim went back to the stairs and ascended, leaving Matthias stuck between a rock and his reporter. At the top of the landing, he snapped his fingers for show and then disappeared into the studio. From behind the drapes, he watched the woman come back on line and the pair of them talk it out.
“So Matthias is the soul,” Ad said from between bites of his Reuben.
“Looks like it.”
“You sure you want to drag that woman into all this?”