Wickedly Dangerous (Baba Yaga, #1)(87)
She touched her lips softly to his and said, “One thing I do know—we’re going to work together to bring Maya down, once and for all.”
Hope leaped into Liam’s face as if the sun had come out, although the sky above was still as gray as ever. “Does that mean you believe me? And not Melissa, with her horrible lies?”
Baba tightened her grip into something that was almost a hug before letting go. “Yes. Yes, I do.” She wasn’t even sure when she’d decided to believe, she just knew she did. “The old Baba used to tell me that the heart is as important to magic as power—and my heart says you’re innocent.” A tiny smile twitched up one corner of her mouth. “What it’s saying beyond that, frankly, is still a mystery.”
Liam gave her a brief hug back, releasing her almost before she’d realized his arms were around her. She missed them as soon as they were gone.
“I’ll settle for that, for now,” Liam said. He knelt down to pat the top of the tombstone one last time, a solitary drop of moisture sliding unnoticed down his sun-browned cheek.
“Don’t you worry, baby girl,” he said. “Daddy is going to take care of everything. But I’ll be back. And I’ll cry for you then.”
*
MAYA LET HERSELF into Peter Callahan’s palatial rented house and let the door click shut behind her. She’d been there before, of course, so the luxurious furnishings in shades of white and taupe didn’t surprise her, nor the smooth marble floors resounding coldly under the click, click, click of her stiletto heels. What kind of person rents an all-white house when they have a four-year-old child? Not that there was any sign of the usual youthful disarray; everything was pristine and in its proper place.
A sneer distorted her unnaturally lovely face. She’d despised the ambitious businessman since the day she’d met him, applying for a job he’d had no chance of denying her. In truth, she’d been looking forward to this moment for every hour of every miserable day of the six months she’d spent putting up with his smug superiority, greedy ambition, and the twice-a-week unimaginative coupling on the top of the walnut desk in his office. What was coming next would be infinitely more pleasurable.
At least for her. She suspected he wouldn’t share her sentiments at all.
Drawn by the sound of her laughter echoing through the house, Peter appeared at the top of the stairs. An alarmed look wiped away the self-satisfaction that usually sat so comfortably on his aristocratic face.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, glancing down at the fancy diamond-studded wristwatch he always wore. “My wife and son will be home any minute now.”
“Good,” Maya said, teeth gleaming, “I was hoping to see them before I left town.”
Peter stomped down the stairs, meeting her in the foyer that opened up into the showy living room and open-plan granite-countered kitchen. “You can’t leave town,” he said, indignation spilling out like smoke. “I promised you’d stay here and testify against the sheriff.”
Maya laughed at him, rolling her eyes at this display of naiveté from someone who prided himself on being such a canny businessman. “Don’t be absurd,” she said calmly. “You know perfectly well I was behind the whole thing. Why else do you think the children who went missing just happened to belong to families who were on your special list?” Her fingers made air quotes around the word special. “Don’t tell me you thought that was a coincidence. Even you couldn’t be that stupid.”
Indignation and fear warred on Callahan’s visage. “I did start to wonder, after a bit,” he said. “That’s why I was so relieved when it turned out to be Sheriff McClellan after all. And I am anything but stupid. How dare you speak to me that way? I can fire you, young lady.” The longer he talked, the more his usual confidence came flooding back, as if the familiar pattern of his words could build a palisade to protect him from the unpleasant realities the peasants had to deal with.
Maya was going to enjoy ripping it away once and for all.
“You can’t fire me, you moron,” she said, tapping one Louboutin-clad shoe. “I’m already leaving. And don’t try blaming me for everything that’s happened; you caused it all, creating a magical doorway to my world with your destruction of the earth and the water.” She gave a bloodcurdling smile that turned his face ashen. “But before I leave, I’ve come for one last payment for the desecration of the element I hold sacred—I’ll be taking your son.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
PETER CALLAHAN’S JAW dropped open. “What? Have you lost your mind?” He shook one finger at her, apparently not noticing that it was trembling slightly.
“If you’ve done this horrible thing, that’s not my fault!” he protested. “And I am certainly not going to allow you to take my son. I’ve been building all this for him!” Callahan waved his hand through the air, as if his empire would somehow appear into view as concrete evidence of how hard he’d worked.
Maya sneered, crimson lips curling in disdain. “Oh, please. You’ve been building it for yourself. I’ll bet you haven’t spent more than twenty minutes with the boy on any day since I’ve been here.” She put her hands on her hips, facing down her erstwhile boss.