White Hot (Hidden Legacy #2)(55)

He pressed his lips together.

“I can compel you to respond,” I said. “I really don’t want to. Please just answer my questions.”

Sweat broke out on his forehead and ran down, leaving a clean track in the soot. I pushed with my magic. Strong will. He looked tough, like he had been through more than one interrogation before and it had just made him harder. He wasn’t posturing and he wasn’t making any promises. He just stayed silent. This one would need a careful interrogation. Antonio had needed a punch; this man required a scalpel.

Rivera glanced at Rogan. Rogan shook his head.

“Chalk?” I asked.

Rogan reached into his pocket and pulled some out.

“Why didn’t you draw any circles when the truck was coming?” I asked.

“Because they would’ve veered off course,” Rogan said. “They had a plan. I wanted them to stick to it.”

Because nobody would expect one man to stop a tanker truck. A Prime in a circle was another matter. I crouched and drew an amplification circle on the ground: small ring around my feet, larger one around that, and three sets of runes in between. Rogan watched with a pained expression. Primes practiced circlework since birth. My circles made his brain hurt.

I straightened and held the chalk out to him. “Thank you.”

I pulled the magic to myself and shot it into the circle. It reverberated back into me as if I had bounced on a magic trampoline. I kept bouncing. One, two, three, each jump stronger than the last. Four. Should be enough.

My magic snapped out and clamped the man in its grip. My voice gained inhuman strength. “Tell me your name.”

Rivera’s eyes went wide. All around us Rogan’s people took a few steps back.

The man froze, gripped tight by my magic.

“Rendani Mulaudzi.”

“What is your profession, Mr. Mulaudzi?”

“Mercenary.”

His breath was coming in shallow puffs. I’d been practicing on my family. My sisters were only too willing to cooperate. It was a game. They tried to keep from telling me the truth and I learned how to do it carefully. This man’s will was strong, but Arabella’s was stronger. Sometimes she passed out rather than break, and before she did, her heart rate sped up and she started to hyperventilate. I’d have to watch him.

“What is the name of the company that hired you for this raid?”

“Scorpion Protection Services.”

“How long have you worked for Scorpion?”

“Six years.”

“What were you before?”

“Recces.”

“South African Special Forces,” Rogan said.

No wonder he was strong-willed. He wasn’t that young either, which meant he must’ve done at least a few years in the military and then survived six years as a mercenary.

“Where is Scorpion headquartered?”

“In Johannesburg.”

South Africa. He was a long way from home.

“How big is Scorpion?”

“It has four tactical teams, sixteen to twenty members each.”

“How many teams are involved in this mission?”

“One.”

“Were you hired specifically for this mission?”

“Yes.”

“Who hired you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who would know?”

“My team leader.”

“What is his name?”

“Christopher van Sittert.”

“Do you see him among the dead?”

“Yes.”

Of course. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? “Point to him, Mr. Mulaudzi.”

He pointed to one of the corpses.

“What was the objective of this mission?”

“To eliminate the following targets: Nevada Baylor, Cornelius Harrison, Penelope Baylor, Frida Afram, and Bernard Baylor within twenty-four hours of arrival.”

I’d never been number one on anyone’s hit list before. “What about the minors present in the house?”

“Their lives were left to our discretion. We weren’t paid to kill them.”

“Were you planning on killing the children?”

“I don’t know.”

The question had been too general. “Did you personally plan to kill the children?”

“Nevada,” Rogan said softly.

I raised my hand, warning him off. This was important to me.

“Not unless they presented a threat.”

“Do you bear any personal animosity to the targets you listed?”

“No.”

I glanced at Rogan. “Before we go any further, he is a mercenary; he was hired to do a job and he failed. He is now unarmed and a prisoner.”

Rogan’s eyes were dark. “You don’t want me to kill him.”

“No. I would like you to send him back to Scorpion wrapped up like a Christmas present. If their whole team disappears, they will have to send someone to investigate. I don’t want them coming back. This way, they don’t have to wonder. He’ll tell them that they came here armed and ready to kill, and we let only one of them live. They’re mercenaries. I want them to understand that it isn’t cost effective to continue this fight.”

“Be careful,” Rogan said. “You’re thinking like a Prime.”