Wickedly Dangerous (Baba Yaga, #1)(57)
Liam raised an eyebrow, barely visible in the diffuse light from the distant streetlamps and the moon overhead. “I didn’t think you’d care.”
She bit her lip. She didn’t care. Of course she didn’t care. It had nothing to do with her. She was here to do a job, and then she’d be moving on. “Right,” she said.
“Besides,” Liam added with a mischievous grin, “if we’re caught, I’m going to say I spied you sneaking in and followed you. Then I’m going to arrest you, and throw you in jail. I’ll be a hero.”
Baba looked at him, startled. She thought he was kidding . . . but she really wasn’t sure. Hopefully, she wouldn’t find out the hard way.
*
LIAM TRIED TO keep a straight face, but it was difficult. Baba had been throwing him off-balance since the day he’d met her; it was something of a treat to be able to return the favor for once. Sooty lashes fluttered over wide eyes as she tried to figure out whether or not to believe him. If it weren’t for the serious nature of their task, he would almost say he was having fun.
“Instead of worrying about which one of us is going to jail tonight,” he said finally, “maybe we should worry about how on earth we’re going to get past this alarm system. It’s pretty sophisticated.”
Baba snorted through her long nose and waved a slim hand through the air as if drawing a figure eight. “What alarm system?” she asked.
Liam pointed at the windowsill, then dropped his finger in amazement at the sight of melted wires, dripping down the side of the building like tar on a hot summer’s day. He was vaguely aware that his mouth hung open as he turned to Baba.
“Did you do that?” he asked, knowing as he did that there was no other explanation. “I thought you said magic and technology don’t mix.”
She inclined her head in the direction of the wires as she slowly moved the window upward on silent tracks. “I’d say that’s a pretty good example of not mixing.” She gave a tiny laugh, almost as noiseless as the sliding glass. “Trying to make technology work with magic is hard. Trying to make it not work, now that’s another story.”
He tried not to stare at Baba’s perfect butt as she lifted herself up and slithered in over the sill. Her attire was a match for his, with the addition of the black leather jacket she wore, since she’d ridden over on her battered BMW. He couldn’t believe she wasn’t sweating in the summer evening’s heat, but she seemed as icily cool as ever. He, on the other hand, could feel a bead of sweat trickle down his back, sticking his shirt to his skin. Of course, that might be the company as much as the warm weather. Something about this frustrating, mysterious woman just set his blood on fire.
“Are you coming, or are you going to stand out there all night admiring the stars?” Baba hissed from inside the building, startling him out of his reverie.
“Right behind you,” Liam growled, and committed his first-ever felony by following her into the building.
They’d at least found the right room. A dim light from Baba’s hand shone on a massive walnut desk covered with electronics and neat stacks of paper, and then moved across the space to briefly illuminate walls covered with maps and charts, and rows of filing cabinets. Boring beige curtains hung over off-white shades. A lone plastic plant tried in vain to bring some life to the otherwise sterile room. It failed.
“Be careful not to shine your flashlight near the windows,” Liam warned. “We catch thieves that way all the time. Just because we’re at the back of the building doesn’t mean some insomniac neighbor won’t see something suspicious and call the police.”
Baba lifted an elegant eyebrow. “I don’t have a flashlight,” she said, holding up her hand to show him the muted glow coming from the center of her palm. “This shouldn’t be visible by anyone other than the two of us.”
“More magic,” he said, swallowing hard. He was never going to get used to this. “Handy.”
Baba snorted quietly. “Puns during a breakin. You are a constant source of amazement to me, Sheriff McClellan.”
Right back atcha, lady. Squared. Liam eyed the computer on the desk. “Think there is any point in turning this thing on?” he asked, mostly rhetorically. “You don’t have some voodoo that can get you his password, do you?”
She shook her head. “Nope, sorry.” The light lingered on a section of wall with what looked like a huge map of the county. “But come over here and look at this. I’m guessing it’s important, but I’m not sure what the heck it means.”
Liam stood behind her, close enough to feel the heat from her body, like magnetic north’s tug on a compass needle. The map she was looking at was covered with pushpins, maybe as many as two hundred of them, some crowded close together and others spread well apart. The pins were in four different colors: red, blue, yellow, and green.
“Huh,” he said. “That’s interesting.” He pointed to a three-by-five card with notes in a precise hand, delineating the meaning of each color. The card was taped to the wall under the map. “I love organized people. This says that red stands for ‘Yes—lease signed,’ blue stands for ‘Definite no,’ yellow is ‘No—but persuadable,’ and green means ‘No—but vulnerable.’”
“What do those mean?” Baba asked, a wrinkle creasing the skin between her brows. “I understand the lease-signed ones, and the definite no’s, but what about the other two? The yellow and green pins?”