Blood and Fire (McClouds & Friends #8)(140)

Bruno struggled to fathom what the guy wanted from him. Some trail of reasoning he was supposed to follow? About those embryos, but he couldn’t . . . oh. Oh, shit. It started again. That drumroll. Another horrible truth he already knew but didn’t want to know.

“You’re talking about the sperm,” Bruno said. “You’re talking about . . . no. No f*cking way. That’s not possible.”

King smiled, delighted, gave his head a pat. “It is.”

“You?” Bruno’s voice cracked. “You’re not . . . not my . . .”

“Your father?” King’s teeth gleamed, unnaturally white, as he finished the phrase for him. “Of course I am, Bruno. Who else?”





30


Zia Rosa didn’t see Kev when she stepped out of the exit gate at Newark. She marched along, staring straight ahead, with the stiff, rocking gait she affected when her edema was flaring up.





He stepped out into her path. “Hey, Zia.”


She stumbled back. “O cazzo! Kev! Whatchyou doin’ here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he said grimly.

She sniffed. “I got business to take care of.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Bruno ain’t in here with you, is he? You gotta warn him that the cop from Portland is—”

“That’s what I need to tell you,” he said, cutting her off. He had to get this over with, quickly. “I have bad news. About Bruno.”

Zia pressed her hand to her heart. “He didn’t find the jewelry box?”

“No. Pina didn’t have it. But there’s more.”

Zia Rosa’s mouth started to shake. “No. Not my boy.”

“They took him,” Kev said, feeling helpless. “I’m so sorry. I tried, but they got him. And I don’t know where he is now.”

Zia Rosa sagged, toppling. He leaped to catch her, but he was positioned wrong. Fortunately, the man behind her lunged, grabbed her under the arms, and broke her fall. No mean feat, with a woman of Zia’s majestic proportions. Between the two of them, they eased her to the ground. Kev looked up to thank the guy for his reflexes.

The other man spoke first. “Who took him?”

Kev’s insides froze. He stared at the guy. No one he’d ever seen before. Tall, younger than Kev, messy dark hair, beard stubble. A tough, intelligent face. Sharp hazel eyes that knew too much about their private business met his over Zia’s squashed helm of bouffant black curls. “Who the hell are you?” he asked.

“I’m Detective Sam Petrie,” the man said. “Portland Police Bureau.”

Oh, shit. His heart sank. “And what are you doing here?”

The man’s gaze was very direct. “Looking for answers. And protecting your aunt, incidentally. She shouldn’t be traveling alone.”

“Oh?” Kev said, through gritted teeth. “Duh. Thanks so much for that blinding insight. How altruistic of you.”

Zia Rosa’s eyes popped open to shoot the guy a hostile glare. “Hah. Protecting me? In a pig’s eye. Opportunista.”

Kev grunted. “I doubt that the city of Portland is springing for your cross-continental air fare so that you can protect my aunt,” he said. “What did you do? Tail her to the airport when she bolted?”

“Yes.” Petrie hoisted Zia Rosa into a sitting position. “This isn’t official. I’m here at my own expense. This case got me going. When I latch on to something like this, I don’t know how to let go. So I followed her.”

“That’s a personality trait that might get you killed,” Kev said.

“I know,” Petrie said calmly. “Until then, I’ll just do what I do.”

They stared, sizing each other up. Petrie spoke again, his voice pitched just for Kev’s ears. “I’m not out for your brother’s blood. He told me he killed those men outside the diner in self-defense, and for what it’s worth, I believe him. I want to know more, before I find any more bodies. If Bruno was straight with me, he has nothing to worry about. From the law, that is,” he amended.

“What do you expect to accomplish here?” Kev demanded.

Petrie shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I just want to know more,” he said simply. “Your brother’s in trouble, right? Maybe I can help. I’m another gun, at least.”

Kev blinked at the guy, nonplussed. “You flew here armed? On such short notice?”

“Know a guy in the Portland Airport Police,” Petrie said blandly. “Used to work with him. He took me around the gates, through the Airport Police office. I think I owe him my firstborn child now, though.”

“That’s your problem. Nobody asked you to,” Kev growled.

“Fair enough,” Petrie said, unruffled. And just waited.

Kev harrumphed. “Great,” he said, sourly. “Zia Rosa wants to help. The cop wants to help. Everybody’s in my face, wanting to help. This much help could kill me.”

Petrie didn’t drop his gaze. Kev looked at the guy and let his perceptions soften, broaden. It was a trick he was picking up from hanging out with Edie, like he could almost ride her brain waves when she was drawing. He’d always trusted his own instincts, but time spent with Edie had sharpened his perceptions still further. He felt around in that other dimension for the shape of the other man. His intentions, his vibe.