Wildfire (Hidden Legacy #3)(6)

Kyle put the paper in front of his mother. “It’s a present for you. I’ll draw one for Dad!” He took off at a run. Catalina sighed and chased him.

Rynda watched him go with an odd look on her face.

“I’ve talked to MII.” She swallowed, and I saw a shadow of her mother’s ruthless logic in her eyes. “Montgomery turned me down.”

Augustine Montgomery declined to get involved. Interesting. I really was her last resort.

“Very well,” I said. “I will look for Brian.”

She shifted in her seat and blurted out. “I want a contract.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t want this to be an act of charity. I want to pay you.”

“That’s fine.”

“I want things defined and professional.”

“As do I.”

“And our relationship is that of a client and service provider.”

“Agreed,” I said.

A door swung open. A thunderstorm appeared behind me and was moving through our house, churning with power and magic. Rogan.

He reached my kitchen and loomed in the doorway, tall, broad-shouldered, his blue eyes dark and his magic wrapped around him like a vicious pet snapping its savage teeth. If I didn’t know him, I would’ve backed away and pulled my gun out.

“Connor!” Rynda jumped up from behind the table, cleared the distance between them, and hugged him.

And jealousy stabbed me right in the heart. He was mine.

Rogan gently put his arms around her, his blue eyes fixed on me. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Rynda choked on a sob. “Brian is missing.”

He was still looking at me. I nodded. Yes. I’m okay.

Rynda pulled away from him. “I didn’t know where to go. I . . .”

“I’m going to take care of it,” I told Rogan.

“Nevada is the best you can get,” he said, his voice perfectly calm.

I checked my laptop: 5:47 p.m. “Rynda, I have some paperwork for you to sign. There are some preliminary things I can do today, but tomorrow I’ll go and knock on BioCore’s doors. It would make things easier for me if you called ahead and advised the family that I’ll be coming by.”

“I’ll come with you,” she said.

“It would be best if I went by myself,” I told her. “People may say things to me that they might not mention in your presence. If I’ll require access to Sherwood family spaces or other restricted areas, I’ll definitely ask you to come with me.”

“What do I do now?” She was looking at Rogan, not at me.

“Sign the paperwork and go home. Brian might call or show up,” Rogan said. “You’re not alone, Rynda. Nevada will help you. I will help you.”

“I hate you for killing my mother,” she told him, her voice strained.

“I know,” he said. “It couldn’t be helped.”

“Everything is falling apart, Connor. How can it all just crumble like that?”

“It’s House life,” he said.

Rynda’s shoulders stooped. She turned to me. “Where do I sign?”

I walked her through the paperwork, fees, and stipulations. She signed and went to collect her children.

Rogan waited until she was out of sight and stepped close to me.

“She’ll need an escort home,” I said. “And someone to watch the house.” There was no telling where this investigation would lead, and extra security was never a bad idea.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, and kissed me. It was a sudden, hard kiss, fierce and hot. It burned like fire.

We broke apart, and I saw the dragon in his eyes. Rogan was preparing to go to war.

“Your grandmother is in the city,” he said, and pressed a USB drive into my hand. “You must decide tonight.”

He turned and walked away, the memory of his kiss still scorching me.

I took a deep breath and plugged the USB into my laptop.





Chapter 2




The family sat at the dining table. I took the head spot this time. A stack of papers sat on my right, covered with a folder. I’d printed out the contents of the USB drive.

My two sisters had taken the chairs next to me, Catalina on my right, Arabella on my left. Catalina, who was a week shy of turning eighteen, was dark-haired, serious, and calm. She liked math, because it made sense to her, and would do just about anything to not be the center of attention. Arabella, still fifteen, was blond, athletic, with bigger boobs and a curvier butt, and calm wasn’t even in her vocabulary. She liked forensics and humanities. “Calling people out” was her preferred method of dealing with issues. The high school debate club, which made the fatal mistake of snubbing her because she was a freshman at the time and their roster was full, lived in mortal terror of her.

Bernard, the oldest of our two cousins, sat next to Catalina. Over six feet tall, with shoulders that had trouble fitting through narrow doorways, Bern was built like he broke people for a living. He had wrestled in high school and still went to judo a few times a week, which he claimed he was doing to balance long hours spent writing computer code. When he was a kid, his hair had been the color of straw and curly. The curls were all gone now. His hair had turned dark blond, and he kept it cut short and messy.