White Hot (Hidden Legacy #2)(23)

And then billionaire Prime makes all sorts of heated promises and dramatic declarations that make the girl think that maybe he might actually view her as more than a pleasant diversion, except he disappears for two months and doesn’t follow through.

“Will it be difficult for you to work with him?” Cornelius asked.

His wife was dead, Rogan had offered him the deal of a lifetime, and Cornelius was thinking of my comfort. In his place, I didn’t know if I would be capable of that much compassion.

“It’s very kind of you to take my feelings into consideration.”

“We’re a team. I’m asking you to put yourself at risk for my sake. I want to know your opinion.”

“I’m a professional and so is he. We’re able to put things aside. Whatever discomfort I may or may not feel is irrelevant.”

“Do you think I should agree to this?”

“Rogan is a cold-blooded bastard, but he’s right. We’ll need muscle, money, and firepower. He has them; we don’t. And, despite all of his high-handed arrogance, he keeps his word.”

“How do you know?”

“He spared Adam Pierce. I needed him alive and Rogan refrained from killing him even though he would’ve loved to twist Adam’s head off.”

A hawk shrieked. Talon swooped past us and a dead mouse fell on the table. The big bird turned and landed on Cornelius’ shoulder. The animal mage raised his hand and stroked the bird’s feathers gently, his face thoughtful.

The hawk was trying to feed him. Even Talon realized Cornelius was grieving.

“Think of Rogan as a dragon,” I told him. “A powerful, ancient, selfish dragon who’ll devour you in a blink but who also has an odd sense of honor. If you make a deal with him, make sure to spell out all of the important things now and get him to agree to them.”

Cornelius picked up the dead mouse and held it up to Talon. “Thank you. Not hungry. You eat it.”

Talon regarded the mouse with his round amber eyes, grabbed it out of Cornelius’ hand, and flew off to the tree line. Cornelius walked over to the window and tapped on the glass. Rogan stepped out and joined us at the table.

Cornelius took his seat. “We’ve considered your proposal and I have some conditions. Only one, actually.”

“I’m eager to hear it,” Rogan said.

“I understand that there are forces bigger than all of this,” Cornelius said. “I’m not interested in that. I want the person who killed my wife. There may come a moment when that person may become extremely valuable to you because of the information he or she carries. You’ll want to keep them alive as an information source or a hostage. You must understand that I don’t care.”

Cornelius’ voice dropped into a quiet, fierce growl. The pain was so raw on his face he didn’t look quite human.

“No matter how important that person is to you, you’ll give them to me. My price is the life of Nari’s murderer. I, and I alone, will take it.”

A thoughtful expression claimed Rogan’s face. His eyes turned calculating.

Cornelius waited.

Rogan offered his hand. “Agreed.”

Cornelius took his hand. They shook on it.

“Shall we formalize the arrangement?” Rogan asked.

“Yes,” Cornelius said.

Rogan dialed a number on his phone. “Bring me a blank House contract, please.”

“You’re actually going to write out a contract where you specify that you surrender the right to kill Nari’s murderer to Cornelius?”

Both of them looked at me. “Yes,” they said at the same time.

I just stared at them.

“He’s a member of a House,” Rogan said. “Why would I treat him with anything less than courtesy?”

We weren’t even from the same planet.

A woman appeared with a blank contract. They worked on it, Cornelius’ face haggard and angry at the same time. He and Matilda deserved to know what happened to Nari, and Matilda deserved to have her father return home to her. I had given my word and I was committed already, but if I hadn’t been, this would do it. If I walked away, Cornelius would run straight into whatever deep water Rogan was wading through, and keeping up with Mad Rogan was bad for one’s life expectancy.

“I need a security team on my house,” I said.

Rogan picked up his phone, texted a short word, and looked at me. “Done.”

“Were they already waiting somewhere conveniently close?”

“Yes.”

I pulled out my own phone and dialed the house.

“Yus!” my youngest sister chirped into the phone. Arabella was fifteen, but going through this weird phase where she acted like she was eight.

“Is Mom home?”

“Yus!”

“Find her and tell her that Rogan’s security team is watching our house. Please ask her not to shoot them.”

“Okay! Nevada?”

“What?” If she asked me about Rogan, I swear I would . . .

“Will you pick up some sushi for dinner?”

“Yes.”

“No nasty mayo sauce?”

“No mayo.”

“Will you tell Mad Rogan that he should ma . . . ?”

I hung up and turned to Cornelius. “How would you feel about moving into our house for the duration of the investigation?”