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APHRODITE'SPASSION-JULIEKENNER

Chapter Twenty-two

“Not at all. The man’s nuts about you, and look at how he behaves.”
“Yes, but—”
“And you’re crazy about him.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it again. “That obvious, huh?”
“Pretty apparent.”
She scowled.
“Don’t fight it. Just go with it.” He stifled a cringe. That really did sound like Oprah. Who knew method acting would come so easily to him? Scary!
“But Hale was such a jerk.”
“Yeah, but you know why he was.”
“I do?”
“Of course you do. Don’t all women?” So far so good. But what was he doing, sabotaging his own plan to salvage his cousin’s love life?
She licked her lips, one hand clutching the door handle as Mordi took a curve at sixty miles an hour. “Fear of commitment, you mean? That’s what all the women’s magazines are always blaming.”
Mordi had no personal knowledge—he’d never fallen under the spell of any woman, Protector or mortal—but it sounded good. “Exactly.”
“So what should I do?”
“Just be patient.”
“Patient?” she repeated, her eyes wide. “Don’t do anything? Not exactly the proactive type, are you?”
Actually, he wasn’t. But he was becoming more so. And any day now he was going to proactive himself right out of the whole situation with his father. “Just trust me,” he said. “You need to be patient, and you need to tell him how you feel. And you need to be willing to fight for it.” He paused. “Remember the first bit. With Hale, you’ll need all the patience you can get.”
She turned in her seat, twisting around to face him, her expression soft. For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then she glanced down at her clasped hands. “Thank you.”
Mordi nodded and focused on the road. He might have done his good deed for the year, but he’d also counseled his way out of any chance of getting a date with Tracy. Clearly, his seduction skills needed work. Although his matchmaking skills seemed to be functioning at full capacity. Not exactly the types of job skills that were going to make Dad proud.
Well, maybe he’d still wind up with the belt. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Right now, though, he wasn’t going to do anything more than deliver Tracy Tannin back to her house— and to Hale.
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Damn, he hated being such a softie.

Doing nothing felt worse than doing something stupid, and as Hale paced around the entrance hall of Tracy’s house, he knew that any minute now he was going to go do something stupid. He couldn’t wait any longer. He couldn’t. He knew Mordi had Tracy. He knew Mordi was Hieronymous’s flunkie. Ergo, Hieronymous had Tracy. Which meant that Hale ought to just fly to Manhattan, bust into Uncle H’s high-tech haven, and rescue her.
“Give it up, man. There’s no way to rescue someone when you don’t know where they are.” Taylor’s words filtered through the red-hot haze of his thoughts.
Slowly, Hale turned to face his brother-in-law. “Is it that obvious what I want to do? Or have you been talking with your wife?”
“A little of both.”
Since the entrance hall was the only room near the front of the house that had been cleaned, Hale had carried a sofa in and the girls had covered it with a sheet to hide the rips in the upholstery. Aphrodite’s girdle was draped over the back of the sofa—Hale didn’t want it out of his sight—and it glittered and gleamed in the afternoon light streaming in through the window.
Hoop had already made himself at home on the couch, and now Taylor dropped down onto it, managing to wake Elmer, who shot him a dirty look, turned three times, and settled back in. Hale ignored all three of them and kept on pacing.
“Besides,” Taylor added. “It’s obvious you’re hot for this girl. Of course you’re nervous—”
“I’m not hot for her.”
“Bull—” Behind them, Hoop coughed into his palm— an age-old trick—but his sentiments were clear enough.
Oh yeah, Hale, Elmer chittered. You ‘re hot for Tracy. It’s pretty funny, actually. The supercool superhero bowled over by a twenty-something chick who talks with the animals. He managed a little ferret snicker. It’s perfect.
Taylor aimed his thumb in Elmer’s direction. “What’s with the rat?”
Humans. Harrumph.
“The usual. Ignore him.”
“So,” Hoop said congenially. “If you were hot for this girl, what would you do?”
Hale ran his fingers through his hair, still not quite believing he could be even half seriously thinking about this. Or admitting his feelings to these clowns. But he was. “What would you do?”
“Me?” Hoop made a face. “Hell, I don’t know. I’m not the poor slob to be asking. I’m no superhero, and I’ve never been desperate for a woman in my life. Deena pursued me; I just finally gave in.”
Taylor and Hale exchanged a glance. Anyone with eyes could see that Hoop was crazy about his girl.
“Uh-huh,” Taylor said.
Hoop just shrugged, grinned, and settled a pillow more firmly behind his neck. At the moment, Hale envied him.
He was one man who knew exactly what he wanted—his business and his girl. And they were both safe.
Hale wasn’t even ready to admit he wanted Tracy. At least, not out loud. Not long-term. But he did want her safe.
“The first thing you should do,” Taylor said, “is admit you love this girl. Zoë‘ll hound you until you admit it.”
“It’s not my sister I’m worried about.” Hale said, trying to shift the conversation away from his feelings and back to reality. “It’s Tracy. Where she is and who she’s with.” He leaned over and started rummaging through his Council pack.
What are you doing? Elmer asked.
“Getting my Propulsion Cloak.” He looked at the ferret, Taylor, and Hoop in turn. “I’m going to New York.”
In an instant, Hoop was off the couch and on his feet. “Don’t do it, buddy. Zoë‘s got Zephron and the MLO satellite on this thing. Do you really think any of us would be so calm if we thought there was anything we could be doing?”
“Hoop’s right,” Taylor added. “They’ve got Hieronymous’s place staked out, and they’re using every spy satellite in the atmosphere to try and find your gal. There’s nothing you can do. They’ll let you know when there is.”
“Except if I fly to New York, I’d feel like I’m actually doing something.” Hale slammed his fist against the wall, accidentally punching a hole in the Sheetrock.
“Good thing this place already needs some repairs,” Hoop said in a deadpan.
“Sorry,” Hale said, to no one in particular.
“You destroying the place?” Zoë, Deena, and Lane traipsed in, all three of them covered in dust and a fine layer of sweat. “Lot of thanks that is for us putting your girlfriend’s place back together.”
Hale scowled at his sister.
“Henchmen,” Zoë said, her voice derisive. “They’ll destroy anything, even when it’s not necessary. At least they only locked Tracy’s dog in the closet.” Hale noticed that Mistress Betina had scampered in, looking distrustful.
“This wasn’t Mordi?” Taylor asked.
“No. For one, he was probably watching Tracy all night. For another, I may have a bad thing to say about Mordi every once in a while, but he’s not this stupid—and he doesn’t stink.”
Hale sniffed the air, noticing as he did so that Taylor, Hoop, Deena, and Lane were all doing it, too. “Stink?”
“Trust me,” Zoë said, tapping her super-sensitive nose. “There were Henchmen in this house.” Her nose wrinkled. “It positively reeks in here.”
Hale resumed his pacing—at least he was moving—before finally stopping in front of the door. Henchmen. More of them. Destroying Tracy’s house. Tracy with Mordi. “Forget it. I’ve had enough. I’m going to find her.”
“Hale ...” Lane stepped up and closed her hand over his.
“No, I’m going.” He couldn’t stand the sympathy in her eyes. He had to do something. If Tracy wasn’t with Hieronymous, Hale could be back in L.A. within the hour. But sitting around here, waiting for other Protectors to find Tracy... He couldn’t do it anymore.
“You may not have to,” Zoë cried. She’d rushed to the window, and they all turned to look at her. She spun back, her face triumphant, but a little confused. “She’s here.”
His sister’s words cut straight to Hale’s heart. “Here?”
“Yup. Coming up the drive now.”
Hale peered out the window and, sure enough, he saw a Porsche cruising up toward the house. “And Tracy’s in there?”
“With Mordi,” she agreed. “Yup.”
Bless his sister and her eyesight.
And damn Mordi for taking Tracy in the first place.
He went to the door, his hand poised over the doorknob as he waited for just the right moment.
Footsteps.
Closer, then closer.
When he could tell they were right outside the door, he yanked it open, ignoring Tracy’s startled expression as he launched himself at Mordichai. He crashed into his cousin and over and over they rolled, until Mordi finally managed to slip out of Hale’s grasp and back away. Mordi gasped as he tried to catch his breath.
“What in Hades are you doing?” Mordi yelled, standing up to brush the leaves and twigs from his linen suit.
“What am I doing?” Hale spat. “What are you doing with Tracy?”
“Bringing her back to you. What does it look like I’m doing?”
It was a perfectly reasonable response, but Hale wasn’t having any of it. His fist was still itching to make contact with Mordi’s face, and he lunged forward, intent on that goal.
“Hale, no! Mordi was just driving me home!”
Too late, Tracy’s words penetrated his mind. Two other things stopped him from rushing Mordi, though—Zoë‘s grasp on the back of his jeans, and the fireball Mordi conjured in self-defense.
“Hale!” Tracy’s scream broke though the maelstrom in his head, not to mention the flame that engulfed him. Thankfully, Mordi’d had the presence of mind to make it a warning. The flame had been illusory: hot, but harmless.
“I’m okay,” he grunted, not thinking. “It’s not real fire.”
The second the words were out of his mouth, he twisted around, turning to look into Tracy’s eyes. They were confused. And no wonder; conjured illusory fireballs weren’t exactly normal occurrences in the mortal world. And certainly not in Beverly Hills.
Tracy’s hands went to her hips, and one eyebrow raised. “Okay,” she finally said. “I give up. What in the name of Heaven is going on?”

APHRODITE'SPASSION-JULIEKENNER

Chapter Twenty-two

“It’s all like this,” Zoë said, watching Hale’s face as he took in the disaster area that made up Tracy’s bedroom. It looked like a gang of marauders had whipped through. Clothes everywhere. Furniture slashed. Glass shattered. “Her room and the attic. All the other rooms.”
“The whole house,” Lane agreed. “We just got the entrance and the kitchen put back together. And Taylor and Hoop are cleaning the attic with Deena.”
Hale looked at both of them in turn, and Zoë noticed the way the color faded from his face as he held on tight to the doorjamb. “When?”
“This morning,” Lane said. “We came by to see how Tracy’s date with you had gone. The door was open and ...” She ended with a shrug.
“Hieronymous,” Hale said, and he met Zoë‘s eyes. “Uncle H sent someone to ransack the house.”
Zoë nodded. “At least Tracy was with you.” She paused. “Uh, until you lost her.”
Hale dropped onto the bed and started rubbing his temples.
“You wanna tell me what happened?”
Hale looked decidedly uncomfortable, and Zoë had the feeling that this wasn’t about the mission at all. That look was about Tracy and Hale—and a brand new bunch of feelings her brother just didn’t want to think about.
She turned to Lane. “Maybe you and Davy should see if the guys need any help.”
Lane nodded and took her child away.
As soon as she’d left the room, Hale’s eyes met Zoë‘s. “She left me. She ended up with him—Mordi. We need to find her before she agrees to give him the belt.”
“But you already have the belt.”
Hale nodded. “But she didn’t give it to me. It’s still Tracy’s, and she can agree to hand it over to anyone.”
Zoë propped a hand on her hip, feeling mildly peeved. “That’s it? That’s your worry? That Mordi will sweet talk the belt away?”
“Yes, exactly. What else would it be?”
She sighed. “You might fool Lane, big brother. But not me. Since when have you ever been worried about Mordi? About anyone, for that matter. This is more than just the job. Tell me what’s really going on inside your head.”
On the bed beside Hale, Elmer started chattering, and even though Zoë couldn’t understand a word, she knew the tone of a lecture when she heard one.
“Zo.” Through the harsh tone of his voice, Hale’s concern was coming through loud and clear. “Can’t we do this later? We need to find her.”
“Zephron’s already on it. He’s tracking her by satellite. I contacted him right after we talked on the phone.” She aimed a gentle look in his direction. “You know there’s nothing more we can do.”
“We can scour this town. Fly over it. You can look through every roof. I can peer in every window. Hell, Zoë, we can go door to door.”
Zoë was amazed by her brother’s vehemence. “If she’s with Mordi, she could be in Venezuela by now.”
He blinked. “Venezuela?”
“Wherever.” She waved her hand, frustrated. “The point is, they could be anywhere.”
“We can’t just sit here not knowing.” Hale’s voice was frantic.
“Apollo’s Apples, Hale. Just tell me.” Their eyes met and locked. “Tell me, or I’ll tell you.”
“What? What will you tell me?”
“That you’re in love with her, of course.”
Her words started a whole new round of chattering from Elmer, but the only reaction she got from Hale was more rubbing of his temples. Damn her brother. She’d never met anyone more stubborn.
“You might as well admit it. It’s as obvious as ... well... as the mess in this room.”
But her stubborn, stupid brother didn’t admit it. Instead he just looked her in the eye, managing to look sad and annoyed at the same time.
“Mighty Zeus! You’re so stubborn. You’ve got this whole we’re-superior-to-mortals thing going too far. Taylor’s right. I swear, you might as well join Hieronymous. That’s pretty much his party line.”
Anger flashed in Hale’s eyes, but still he said nothing.
“Well, say something already,” she demanded.
At first he didn’t say anything, then he looked away. When he glanced back again, the intensity in his eyes made her gasp.
“Why do you think Taylor’s not going to leave you?”
Not at all the question she expected, Zoë sank down onto Tracy’s now-unstuffed chaise lounge. “I just know,” she said at last.
“Are you absolutely sure?”
Zoë frowned, trying to read her brother. His whole life he’d made a point of telling her that mortal-Protector relationships didn’t work. Mortals leave, he’d say. And why bother with them, anyway, since Protectors were so much better. Sex with them was fine, but a relationship with a mortal was slumming.
She’d always assumed his short-lived flings with mortal women had been the product of his overdeveloped sense of superiority. But now she wondered. Did he dump women before women dumped him? Was his lifestyle a way of staying in control? Of not making the mistake their father made and falling for a mortal woman who’d left at the first sign of any weirdness? Considering their lifestyles, weirdness was certainly a daily occurrence.
“Zoë? I’m right, aren’t I? You don’t know that Taylor’s not leaving. He might leave tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “But he won’t. I know it in my heart.”
“And you think that’s enough?”
She looked him in the eye. “Yeah, Hale. I do. You have to have faith in something. Isn’t that what love’s all about?”
Hale ran his fingers though his hair. “I don’t know, Zo. I just don’t know.” He looked like he wanted to have faith, Zeus help her, he really did. But Zoë knew that a leap like this ... Leaping off a building was one thing for Hale. Taking a leap that put his heart—and his ego—at risk ... Well, that was something entirely different.
Zoë met her brother’s gaze again, but at last his shoulders slumped. “Oh, Zoë. I can’t.”
She felt a hitch in her throat. “You’re missing out on a lot.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just smarter.”
The corner of Zoë‘s mouth turned up at the return of her brother’s old bravado. “I have faith in you, though.” In one quick step, she was at his side, her lips on his cheek in a soft kiss. “You’ll do the right thing.”
She stepped back, her heart dancing and full of mischief. “It’s about time you grew up, big brother.”

Mordi maneuvered his convertible down the Pacific Coast Highway, still unable to believe his luck. The one thing he’d needed more than anything—time alone with Tracy— had just been dumped in his lap. Or, more specifically, the front seat of his Porsche.
Twisting around, he glanced at her. The wind had whipped her long, fine hair into a frenzy, and she had one hand over her head as she tried to hold it in place. With her sunglasses on, he couldn’t see her eyes, but from the slump of her shoulders, he knew she wasn’t having the best of times.
Considering she’d entered the hotel last night with Hale and left this morning alone, the reason for her bad mood seemed obvious: his cousin and his oh-so-delicate way with women.
Mordi remembered well enough what Tracy had said in the food court. She wanted a man who loved her for herself, no matter who she was. Not exactly an on-point description of Hale. Not by a long shot. He was a one-night kind of guy. Perfect for such a mission as wresting away a belt like Aphrodite’s girdle through kisses and complements, but awful for a long-term commitment.
Thinking of the belt, Mordi glanced at the girl’s waist, then frowned. Nothing. No belt. Not even the slightest hint of gold. He sighed. Wasn’t that just his luck? His first chance to try to sweet-talk the belt away from this girl, and she didn’t even have it! Which raised an interesting question:
Had she left it somewhere? Or had Hale succeeded already?
“Thanks for driving me,” she said. She turned in her seat and flashed him a genuine, albeit watery, smile. “Sorry I’m such poor company.”
“Not at all.” Reaching over, he patted her hand, trying to muster a supportive expression. All the magazines said women wanted a man they could talk to. And Tracy had said it, too. Well, by Zeus, he was going to be that man. “Do you want to talk about it?”
There. That sounded very Alan Alda. If he was lucky, by the end of the drive she’d have warmed up to him and spilled her heart. He’d convince her Hale wasn’t the man for her, and then ask her out on a date. By tomorrow night, he’d manage to get the belt from her, and Mordi would be the hero du jour.
Her shoulders rose and fell in a dejected little shrug. “There’s not a lot to say. I just spent the night with a guy, and I thought it went great—until this morning, when I realized that my idea of great and his idea of great didn’t mesh.”
“I’m sorry.” He frowned, trying to figure out what might have happened. If Hale was trying to get the belt, surely he wouldn’t have snubbed the girl. Then again, Mordi had seen the way Hale treated mortals. But the way Hale had been looking at this girl when Mordi had been spying ...
“I probably shouldn’t even be talking to you about it,” she said. “You’re Zoë‘s cousin, right?”
He tried out his most debonair smile. “Something wrong with that? You don’t like my genes?”
She laughed, and he was glad to put her at ease. “No. I mean, yes.” She gave herself a little shake. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with your heritage. It’s just that if you’re Zoë‘s cousin, then you’re Hale’s cousin, too.”
“And he’s the guy you’re talking about?” Mordi made himself look surprised. “Well, that’s your problem.”
Turning in her seat, she looked at him over the rim of her sunglasses. “You think he’s wrong for me?”
Mordi wondered how much hesitation would produce the proper effect. “Not at all.” He paused. Two seconds. Three seconds. That seemed about right. “Except...”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She sat up straighter. “No. It’s okay. Please tell me.” She frowned. “Heck, I may have already heard it.”
“You mean from Deena and Lane at the mall.” He spoke the words without thinking. Immediately, she turned to him, her eyes wide.
“How on earth did you know about that?”
“Excellent question.” He scrambled for something reasonable. Hidden cameras? ESP? Certainly he couldn’t say he’d been her newfound friend Laddie. “I know Lane,” he finally answered. “She and I go way back.” Considering their last encounter, when Mordi had been trying to steal her necklace, he doubted Lane would claim him as a friend. But “way back” was more or less accurate. And it would make sense that Zoë‘s cousin would know Zoë’s sister-in-law.
“Oh.” Tracy didn’t look convinced, but neither did she push the point. “Well, then you know what she thinks about Hale. Is it true?”
He frowned. The girl had jumped straight to the heart of the matter. Which could only mean one thing. She had it bad for his cousin.
Yet as much as Mordi wanted to malign Hale and get in good with Tracy, he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. Frowning, he tapped a finger on the steering wheel. His father wouldn’t hesitate. Hieronymous would take this opportunity and run with it.
But if there was one long, hard, painful lesson that Mordi was learning, it was that he simply didn’t take after the man. He’d spent his whole life trying, but he’d never quite made it. And when push came to shove, all this annoying niceness came out.
Hale might be a womanizer, but unless Mordi had been seeing things, his cousin had been smitten with this mortal. Did he really want to ruin that? Or try to ruin it?
“I guess it’s true,” she said, clearly taking his silence as concession. “He’s a player. A shallow, cold-hearted player.”
Mordi made a decision. “Yes and no. The man’s got a roving eye, I’ll give you that. But unless I’m imagining things, his gaze stopped roving when he met you.”
A surprised smile danced on her mouth before fading. “You’re just saying that to be nice. How could you possibly know?”
That was a very good question. He’d been disguised in the coffee shop, and he’d been a dog at the mall. When was he supposed to have witnessed this great love affair in bloom?
“Actually, Hale told me.” It was an out-and-out lie, but he couldn’t think of anything better.
“Really?” Tracy’s delight spread across her face, and he decided on the spot that he didn’t regret his falsehood.
“Cross my heart.”
“So, why did he act like such a jerk this morning?”
“Because my cousin’s an idiot.” There. That wasn’t a lie. And it should make up for some of the doozies he’d been telling.
Instead of answering, Tracy just cocked her head. “A little harsh, don’t you think?”
“Not at all. The man’s nuts about you, and look at how he behaves.”
“Yes, but—”
“And you’re crazy about him.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it again. “That obvious, huh?”
“Pretty apparent.”
She scowled.
“Don’t fight it. Just go with it.” He stifled a cringe. That really did sound like Oprah. Who knew method acting would come so easily to him? Scary!
“But Hale was such a jerk.”
“Yeah, but you know why he was.”
“I do?”
“Of course you do. Don’t all women?” So far so good. But what was he doing, sabotaging his own plan to salvage his cousin’s love life?
She licked her lips, one hand clutching the door handle as Mordi took a curve at sixty miles an hour. “Fear of commitment, you mean? That’s what all the women’s magazines are always blaming.”
Mordi had no personal knowledge—he’d never fallen under the spell of any woman, Protector or mortal—but it sounded good. “Exactly.”
“So what should I do?”
“Just be patient.”
“Patient?” she repeated, her eyes wide. “Don’t do anything? Not exactly the proactive type, are you?”
Actually, he wasn’t. But he was becoming more so. And any day now he was going to proactive himself right out of the whole situation with his father. “Just trust me,” he said. “You need to be patient, and you need to tell him how you feel. And you need to be willing to fight for it.” He paused. “Remember the first bit. With Hale, you’ll need all the patience you can get.”
She turned in her seat, twisting around to face him, her expression soft. For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then she glanced down at her clasped hands. “Thank you.”
Mordi nodded and focused on the road. He might have done his good deed for the year, but he’d also counseled his way out of any chance of getting a date with Tracy. Clearly, his seduction skills needed work. Although his matchmaking skills seemed to be functioning at full capacity. Not exactly the types of job skills that were going to make Dad proud.
Well, maybe he’d still wind up with the belt. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Right now, though, he wasn’t going to do anything more than deliver Tracy Tannin back to her house— and to Hale.
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Damn, he hated being such a softie.

Doing nothing felt worse than doing something stupid, and as Hale paced around the entrance hall of Tracy’s house, he knew that any minute now he was going to go do something stupid. He couldn’t wait any longer. He couldn’t. He knew Mordi had Tracy. He knew Mordi was Hieronymous’s flunkie. Ergo, Hieronymous had Tracy. Which meant that Hale ought to just fly to Manhattan, bust into Uncle H’s high-tech haven, and rescue her.
“Give it up, man. There’s no way to rescue someone when you don’t know where they are.” Taylor’s words filtered through the red-hot haze of his thoughts.
Slowly, Hale turned to face his brother-in-law. “Is it that obvious what I want to do? Or have you been talking with your wife?”
“A little of both.”
Since the entrance hall was the only room near the front of the house that had been cleaned, Hale had carried a sofa in and the girls had covered it with a sheet to hide the rips in the upholstery. Aphrodite’s girdle was draped over the back of the sofa—Hale didn’t want it out of his sight—and it glittered and gleamed in the afternoon light streaming in through the window.
Hoop had already made himself at home on the couch, and now Taylor dropped down onto it, managing to wake Elmer, who shot him a dirty look, turned three times, and settled back in. Hale ignored all three of them and kept on pacing.
“Besides,” Taylor added. “It’s obvious you’re hot for this girl. Of course you’re nervous—”
“I’m not hot for her.”
“Bull—” Behind them, Hoop coughed into his palm— an age-old trick—but his sentiments were clear enough.
Oh yeah, Hale, Elmer chittered. You ‘re hot for Tracy. It’s pretty funny, actually. The supercool superhero bowled over by a twenty-something chick who talks with the animals. He managed a little ferret snicker. It’s perfect.
Taylor aimed his thumb in Elmer’s direction. “What’s with the rat?”
Humans. Harrumph.
“The usual. Ignore him.”
“So,” Hoop said congenially. “If you were hot for this girl, what would you do?”
Hale ran his fingers through his hair, still not quite believing he could be even half seriously thinking about this. Or admitting his feelings to these clowns. But he was. “What would you do?”
“Me?” Hoop made a face. “Hell, I don’t know. I’m not the poor slob to be asking. I’m no superhero, and I’ve never been desperate for a woman in my life. Deena pursued me; I just finally gave in.”
Taylor and Hale exchanged a glance. Anyone with eyes could see that Hoop was crazy about his girl.
“Uh-huh,” Taylor said.
Hoop just shrugged, grinned, and settled a pillow more firmly behind his neck. At the moment, Hale envied him.
He was one man who knew exactly what he wanted—his business and his girl. And they were both safe.
Hale wasn’t even ready to admit he wanted Tracy. At least, not out loud. Not long-term. But he did want her safe.
“The first thing you should do,” Taylor said, “is admit you love this girl. Zoë‘ll hound you until you admit it.”
“It’s not my sister I’m worried about.” Hale said, trying to shift the conversation away from his feelings and back to reality. “It’s Tracy. Where she is and who she’s with.” He leaned over and started rummaging through his Council pack.
What are you doing? Elmer asked.
“Getting my Propulsion Cloak.” He looked at the ferret, Taylor, and Hoop in turn. “I’m going to New York.”
In an instant, Hoop was off the couch and on his feet. “Don’t do it, buddy. Zoë‘s got Zephron and the MLO satellite on this thing. Do you really think any of us would be so calm if we thought there was anything we could be doing?”
“Hoop’s right,” Taylor added. “They’ve got Hieronymous’s place staked out, and they’re using every spy satellite in the atmosphere to try and find your gal. There’s nothing you can do. They’ll let you know when there is.”
“Except if I fly to New York, I’d feel like I’m actually doing something.” Hale slammed his fist against the wall, accidentally punching a hole in the Sheetrock.
“Good thing this place already needs some repairs,” Hoop said in a deadpan.
“Sorry,” Hale said, to no one in particular.
“You destroying the place?” Zoë, Deena, and Lane traipsed in, all three of them covered in dust and a fine layer of sweat. “Lot of thanks that is for us putting your girlfriend’s place back together.”
Hale scowled at his sister.
“Henchmen,” Zoë said, her voice derisive. “They’ll destroy anything, even when it’s not necessary. At least they only locked Tracy’s dog in the closet.” Hale noticed that Mistress Betina had scampered in, looking distrustful.
“This wasn’t Mordi?” Taylor asked.
“No. For one, he was probably watching Tracy all night. For another, I may have a bad thing to say about Mordi every once in a while, but he’s not this stupid—and he doesn’t stink.”
Hale sniffed the air, noticing as he did so that Taylor, Hoop, Deena, and Lane were all doing it, too. “Stink?”
“Trust me,” Zoë said, tapping her super-sensitive nose. “There were Henchmen in this house.” Her nose wrinkled. “It positively reeks in here.”
Hale resumed his pacing—at least he was moving—before finally stopping in front of the door. Henchmen. More of them. Destroying Tracy’s house. Tracy with Mordi. “Forget it. I’ve had enough. I’m going to find her.”
“Hale ...” Lane stepped up and closed her hand over his.
“No, I’m going.” He couldn’t stand the sympathy in her eyes. He had to do something. If Tracy wasn’t with Hieronymous, Hale could be back in L.A. within the hour. But sitting around here, waiting for other Protectors to find Tracy... He couldn’t do it anymore.
“You may not have to,” Zoë cried. She’d rushed to the window, and they all turned to look at her. She spun back, her face triumphant, but a little confused. “She’s here.”
His sister’s words cut straight to Hale’s heart. “Here?”
“Yup. Coming up the drive now.”
Hale peered out the window and, sure enough, he saw a Porsche cruising up toward the house. “And Tracy’s in there?”
“With Mordi,” she agreed. “Yup.”
Bless his sister and her eyesight.
And damn Mordi for taking Tracy in the first place.
He went to the door, his hand poised over the doorknob as he waited for just the right moment.
Footsteps.
Closer, then closer.
When he could tell they were right outside the door, he yanked it open, ignoring Tracy’s startled expression as he launched himself at Mordichai. He crashed into his cousin and over and over they rolled, until Mordi finally managed to slip out of Hale’s grasp and back away. Mordi gasped as he tried to catch his breath.
“What in Hades are you doing?” Mordi yelled, standing up to brush the leaves and twigs from his linen suit.
“What am I doing?” Hale spat. “What are you doing with Tracy?”
“Bringing her back to you. What does it look like I’m doing?”
It was a perfectly reasonable response, but Hale wasn’t having any of it. His fist was still itching to make contact with Mordi’s face, and he lunged forward, intent on that goal.
“Hale, no! Mordi was just driving me home!”
Too late, Tracy’s words penetrated his mind. Two other things stopped him from rushing Mordi, though—Zoë‘s grasp on the back of his jeans, and the fireball Mordi conjured in self-defense.
“Hale!” Tracy’s scream broke though the maelstrom in his head, not to mention the flame that engulfed him. Thankfully, Mordi’d had the presence of mind to make it a warning. The flame had been illusory: hot, but harmless.
“I’m okay,” he grunted, not thinking. “It’s not real fire.”
The second the words were out of his mouth, he twisted around, turning to look into Tracy’s eyes. They were confused. And no wonder; conjured illusory fireballs weren’t exactly normal occurrences in the mortal world. And certainly not in Beverly Hills.
Tracy’s hands went to her hips, and one eyebrow raised. “Okay,” she finally said. “I give up. What in the name of Heaven is going on?”