Night Shift (Kate Daniels #6.5)(84)

A couple of hours ago, I would have felt sorry for the little guys, being chased by an enraged werewolf who’d already gone wolf once tonight and had beaten one of Rake Danescu’s bouncers like dirty laundry on a rock. But now? If—no, when—he caught up to those leprechauns, he was liable to squash them into green Play-Doh. And after all they’d put us through, I’d gladly hand Yasha the hammer.

The tracking chip Ian had planted on Finn was on the move, so we didn’t have time to wait for a replacement vehicle or prisoner transport from the SPI motor pool. Ian liberated a bakery delivery truck that was parked near the end of the block.

That was the best thing that’d happened to me all night. Until I smelled those cookies, I had no idea how hungry I was. A porn crawl through New York City sure worked up an appetite.

The truck was still half loaded with cookies and pastries in all their glorious forms and flavors. Technically it was stealing, but by rescuing Finn from Danescu’s clutches, we’d save the city from the effects of the goblin mage’s three wishes. When you thought of it that way, we were fueling up to prevent the spread of evil. That was noble, right?

Clover weed might not have been pot, but it obviously had the same side effects, at least for the leprechauns. The two stoned leprechauns had a bad case of the munchies, and anything that would keep them quiet was good.

Though after I told Ian how the little bastard had gleefully sold us out, Finn had better hope Rake Danescu used the Hand Wave of Destruction that he’d shown me on him. As a senior agent and chief agency ass kicker, Ian had first dibs when we caught up to him. If there was anything left, I’d gladly take seconds. Finn offered to put me to sleep so Danescu could have his way with me. That pissed me off; though I didn’t want to admit even to myself part of that was because I’d sleep through whatever the goblin did to me.

“I’ve so got to get a boyfriend,” I muttered.

“What?”

I winced at yet another pothole Yasha found. “Nothing.”

I was kneeling between the driver and passenger seats. The truck’s shocks were a thing of the past and were almost as worn out as I was.

Not that I wanted to watch the Russian werewolf’s kamikaze driving; in fact, I’d be happier not knowing how close we’d come to death any number of times. However, I usually called shotgun for a reason.

I was the poster child for car sickness. But with Ian literally riding shotgun, I made do the best I could and tried to convince my stomach and its contents of Coke and cookies not to leap into my throat every time Yasha found yet another pothole. I wasn’t even gonna allow myself to think about the state of my bladder. I’d been in a perfectly good ladies’ room, but thanks to the two leprechauns cuffed to one of the racks in the back of the delivery truck, I hadn’t had a chance to use it.

We were actually getting a signal from the tracking device, meaning that wherever Rake Danescu had taken Finn through the Rotten Egg Portal of Doom, at least they were still in our dimension. While we were following the flashing dot on Ian’s phone—yep, SPI had an app for tracking chips embedded in a leprechaun’s butt cheek—there was no time like the present to get some answers from my partner.

I was coming down from the effects of the clover weed, so while I wasn’t quite as forthright in my behavior and opinions, I felt like I was more than due some straight answers.

“When were you going to tell me I’m walking around wearing a bull’s-eye?”

With that, I had my partner’s full and undivided attention. I would have crossed my arms for visual effect, but they were occupied, death-gripping the cookie racks to keep me from ricocheting off the sides of the van, so I just went with a glare.

“Who tol—?” Realization hit. “Danescu. I should have known.”

“I should have known, too. You know, the boss knows, the hot bad guy—”

“Hot?”

“Hey, I thought we’d already established that. Besides, I’ll be honest if you will. I wasn’t told that taking a job as a seer at SPI came with an expiration date. Danescu told me I’d been lied to, and asked if I’d like to know why. I’d like that very much—without a side order of bullshit.”

Ian scowled.

“Sir,” I quickly added.

He ran the hand not holding the shotgun over his face, and for a moment, I got a look at Ian Byrne, just a tired guy with too much on his plate.

“There have been accidents—” he began.

“What kind of accidents involve exsang—”

“What at first were thought to be accidents.”

“You know differently now.”

“Without a doubt.”

“And I was hired to be the fourth sacrificial lamb because SPI needs a seer.”

“There were no sacrificial lambs. Yes, SPI needs a seer, now more than ever. My mission is to ensure that you’re alive to work for us for many years to come. Contrary to what Rake Danescu may have told you, and what you may now believe, Vivienne Sagadraco values each and every one of her employees. She takes the loss of any agent hard, and personally.”

At that, I felt bad about implying otherwise, but not bad enough to take back anything I’d said. They’d known what had happened to my predecessors. I’d been clueless, and they’d kept me that way. I’d signed on thinking I was getting a cool job with great insurance—not a ticking time bomb to a death sentence.