Freedom (The Sorcerers' Scourge Book 4) Page 6

  I slipped out of the gazebo, hopefully unseen, and headed up to my room. There I fired up the computer and began researching along the lines that Christina and I had talked about earlier.

  I hadn’t gotten far when someone knocked at the door. I ignored it, but the knocking continued. So, I checked the peephole.

  Christina was standing there holding a laptop in her arms.

  I opened the door and motioned her in. “Oh, I didn’t mean earlier that you needed to help me with my problem.”

  “I know,” she said, “but I want to. You have such a sad story, and all my teachers say I’m a whiz at research. They’re right.”

  We were kindred spirits in the sense that we both had healthy egos. “Then I’m delighted to have your company.”

  We researched Dana and her owner Suarez for a couple of hours, and we found forty-two possible matches in the Sacramento metropolitan area. The last name was relatively popular, and we needed to narrow the list down more.

  Then Christina had the great idea of using Google Earth to check out properties from the sky, and we excluded each Suarez who didn’t have a fancy home.

  By dinnertime, we’d cut the list to twelve, and I was exhausted. “We should stop here, Christina. You’ve been a fantastic help.”

  She glowed. “We’ve gotta get Dana back, and Cara and your mom. Then we can all live here happily ever after.”

  I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but this place seemed relatively safe. “That might work out great, but we have to find them first. I’ll have to kick some serious sorcerer butt to win their freedom.”

  We headed down to the dining hall for dinner, and along the way, Christina kept up a steady chatter about how great her dad was at fighting and how he could help me get strong enough to take my family back from the dark side.

  She had a point. Since I’d gained my freedom, I’d been assuming that finding them would be the hardest part. But her comment reminded me I might not be strong enough yet to get the job done. So, I needed to stay on Ian’s good side in case I could use his help down the road.

  Chapter 6

  Wednesday, January 13th

  AFTER BREAKFAST, GRACIE showed me three cars the clan wanted to sell. I picked the oldest and cheapest, a 10-year-old Accord coupe with 150,000 miles on it. She charged me half of what Edmunds said was the wholesale price, but I still paid $1,500.

  “Who’s your insurance company?” she asked.

  Oops. “I don’t have one. I guess that’s a problem, huh?”

  She fought a snort, pretending she’d sneezed. “You might be surprised to hear this, but California requires all motorists have insurance. Needless to say, it’s expensive. How is your driving record?”

  I didn’t have time to screw around with insurance companies. Dana was much more important. “My driving record is great—only one ticket. And my only accident was the other guy’s fault.”

  She rubbed her chin for a moment. “What we could do…maybe we could set up a rent-to-own agreement. You’d pay a hundred bucks a day to use the car until you’ve paid off the full amount. We’d keep title to the car, and you could use our insurance. But if you get in any accidents, you’ll have to pay the five-hundred-dollar deductible.”

  “That sounds great.” These people truly were incredibly nice—which only worsened the guilt I felt in not helping them with their security.

  For the rest of the morning, I studied California’s driving laws. It was amazing what I’d forgotten, and I didn’t want Philippe to realize how ignorant I was.

  After lunch, I drove the car through the neighborhood surrounding the Seabreeze Inn, but after a couple of close calls, I headed back. This driving thing was going to be a helluva lot harder than I’d thought.

  He met me at the front entrance wearing a crash helmet and body armor.

  “Not funny,” I said.

  He wasn’t grinning. “After several serious accidents, the Council insisted I begin wearing protection. For you, it’s optional, but I do have additional gear for you back in my office.”

  I shook my head and gripped the steering wheel harder. So much for a romantic afternoon drive. “Where to first?”

  Following his directions, we left the compound and headed toward a quiet residential area. His instructions were all clear and precise, and he didn’t get upset after I ended up on the sidewalk, almost taking out a stop sign. The guy obviously had been through worse.

  For two hours, I drove around, and he stayed positive and pleasant the entire time. My angelic mother would have strangled me several times by now, but not this guy. He was so nice I was tempted to punch him to see if that would get him mad.

  And the sweeter he was, the hornier I got. I hadn’t had sex, not of my own free will, with a guy in over a year. After failing to think up a way to broach the subject tactfully, I asked, “So, got a girlfriend?”

  He laughed. “Not at the moment. Would you care to apply for the position?”

  “No, but I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings when I drag you into the backseat and have my way with you. I’m not into long-term relationships, but a woman has needs, if you know what I mean.”

  “Turn left here and take the on ramp to the freeway heading south. I know exactly what you mean, but I regret to say, I have a policy against mixing business and pleasure. When I’ve finished giving you your lessons, perhaps we could renew this conversation.”

  I merged onto the freeway like he’d asked. Damn those cars flew by me fast in the left lane, even though I was doing the speed limit. “It sounds great in theory, but I’m only going to be around for another day or two. Just thought I’d ask. No harm in asking, is there?”

  “No, Moira. I’m very flattered, seriously, but learning to drive is a serious business. I cannot, in good conscience, encourage other thoughts that might distract you from the task at hand.”

  “You bet.” Just that quickly, all the lust that had been building inside me melted away. Maybe I could take another run at him when I finished recovering Dana. He hadn’t actually turned me down, just postponed things.

  Luckily, neither of us needed a helmet or body armor that afternoon. At the end of two hours, Philippe directed me to a quiet French bistro in an old part of Monterey. The food was terrific, and so was his company. Each time he smiled at me, I had to remind myself that there wouldn’t be any rocking and rolling later.

  But there was no harm in getting to know the guy. It turned out, he’d grown up in a small town in Provence, France. His magical parents immigrated to the United States just before he turned eighteen, and the three of them had started a small bakery in Santa Barbara and turned it into a local success.

  He’d spent most of his time chatting up their customers, and for every question I asked, he asked one about me. No wonder he was so popular. Who didn’t like to talk about themselves?

  The time flew by, and too soon, our waiter began making noises about others waiting for our table. He did give me a hug when we returned to the inn, but that may have just been his relief at surviving the afternoon. The scent of his cologne stayed with me long after he vanished.

  When I got back to my room, I tried to forget Philippe. Instead, I searched online for my father. He might still own my mom, and I had to start searching for her somewhere.

  I’d grown up in Bakersfield, at the bottom of California’s long Central Valley. Alan Boyle had owned several gladiator slaves, a harem of six including Mom, and four house slaves at a ranch just west of the city. I checked the current ownership of that property, and Boyle had sold it a year ago to a Japanese man. I couldn’t find any other address for an Alan Boyle in the Bakersfield area. There were hundreds of men with that name elsewhere in California, far too many to research individually. I had to find a way to cull that list further.

  The phone inside the room rang. Ian was on the line.

  “Sorry to bother you,” he said after a brief hello, “but could we meet sometime to
morrow?”

  “Sure, I replied. “Why?”

  “A little bird tells me you’re hot to run off to Sacramento. I want to be sure you know what a spectacular compensation package you will be passing up.”

  I’d hoped to avoid turning down a job here, particularly after he’d been so kind to me, but a higher duty called. “Of course, I’ll meet with you. Pick a time.”

  “How about six p.m. tomorrow, in my office?”

  “Sure, where is it?”

  “Right next to Gracie’s.”

  I had to hear him out. I owed him at least that much, but I owed my family so much more.

  -o-o-o-

  Thursday, January 14th

  PHILIPPE WAS KIND enough to give me another driving lesson in return for a second free dinner. This time, I didn’t jump any curbs, and his praise sounded a little more genuine. We had a delightful dinner at a small Italian restaurant at the wharf. He wasn’t the least bit romantic to me, but his openly friendly attitude still made me horny as hell. Of all the people in the clan here, I was going to miss Christina the most, but he was fighting with Ian for second place.

  That was particularly strange because, until those two had popped into my life a couple of days ago, I couldn’t remember a single man who’d been kind to me. Maybe these two would take advantage of me, too, in the long run, but if so, they were world-class con men. Which, as I thought about it, seemed much more probable. Don’t be so damned gullible, girl.

  When I drove back to the Seabreeze Inn and parked, he frowned at me.

  My stomach dropped. He was about to turn on me.

  “Moira, I’m going to give you a series of strong recommendations, and your life may depend on upon you listening. Are you prepared to hear what I have to say?”

  I gulped. This wasn’t what I’d expected. He was going to report me to the California Department of Motor Vehicles as a highway menace. They were sure to take my license. How could I get to Sacramento without a car?

  Stalling wouldn’t help. “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “First, you are a good beginning driver. That said, some situations are well beyond your abilities. I’m telling you this to keep you safe, not to hurt your feelings. You understand, yes?”

  The longer he dragged it out, the worse it was going to be. “Sure, fire when ready.”

  I steeled myself for the bad news. He was going to hurt me, just like all the other men in my past.

  “First,” he said, “do not under any circumstances drive in San Francisco. They are beyond insane there.”

  I’d heard that already, so I said, “No problem.”

  “Second, you should avoid driving in rush hour, particularly in congested downtown areas, anywhere in California. There are too many dangers coming from all sides at that time of day.”

  I could understand that point, too. “Okay.”

  “And third, avoid driving at night. The risk of an accident is much greater then. I’m becoming very fond of you, and I would hate to see you hurt.”

  But he obviously wasn’t worried about my fragile emotional state. I nodded and tried to keep the tears from welling in my eyes. I was normally one tough bitch, but he’d somehow gotten under my skin.

  He must’ve noticed because he brushed my cheek with his fingertips. “Now, now, please don’t weep. You are actually one of my better students, ma belle. Driving happens to be the most complicated thing most modern people do, and it takes hundreds of hours of practice. You’ve had only four. The training you received from your mother was too long ago to count.”

  He stopped and waited for me to respond, but words wouldn’t come. This shithead had conned me into thinking he cared for me. The thought of punching his lights out was incredibly tempting. How had I ever imagined him as a nice guy?

  But he could read minds. He chuckled and moved away from me as far as he could in the front passenger seat. “Now you are furious. That is probably better than feeling hurt. I say these hard things because I do like you. So, I’m hopeful you will avoid particularly dangerous situations and come back to me safely.”

  He does care, after all. With a few words, he’d managed to make my anger disappear. His earlier comments had hurt, all right, but only because his good opinion mattered greatly to me. How could I have let him get to me so quickly? I was a warrior, not some weepy princess locked in a tower.

  “I…I don’t know what to say. I want to come back here safely, too.” I stopped there before I embarrassed myself by telling him what I felt for him. I might never see him again.

  We walked inside together, silent, until we reached the elevator. I had to go up, but he didn’t. When the door opened, he kissed me on the cheek and whispered, “Come back to me soon.”

  Then he strode away, leaving me stunned. What the hell was I supposed to make of that? I headed up to my room, locked the door behind me, and tried to focus again on finding Boyle.

  But I couldn’t think. With a few sweet nothings, Philippe had turned me into a lovesick teenager. This was how all those stories about men loving women and leaving them had started. A woman would hear a few sweet nothings and turn them into happily ever after. But not me. I had people counting on me to keep my head on straight.

  I tried for an hour to concentrate on searching for Dana, Cara, and Mom, but Philippe had managed to make a shambles of that. The next time I saw him, I needed to kick him in the nuts.

  -o-o-o-

  Rí benn Ian O’Rourke’s Office, Seabreeze Inn, Monterey, California

  BEFORE MY MEETING with Ian, I washed my face. I didn’t want him to know how soft-hearted I’d become after a little attention from a sweet-talking Frenchman. Above all, I needed to hold onto my skills as a ruthless fighting bitch long enough to save my family. Then I could let myself fall for some con man.

  When I entered Ian’s office suite, his handsome assistant said, “You must be Moira. I’m Lee Andrews, and I coordinate the work the fighters in the Garda perform for the clan.”

  He stood and shook my hand. The guy was about my age, with short auburn hair, and he was as thin as a rail. He obviously didn’t fight. Still, he had the chiseled face of a male model. If Philippe didn’t work out, maybe Lee would be worth chasing. I needed options, but not soon.

  Then I realized he was staring at me as though I was supposed to say something. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  He nodded. “Ian is expecting you. Go right in.”

  The clan’s warlord sat in one of those fancy leather office chairs behind a large mahogany desk. He reminded me of a CEO of a large business, not a fighting witch. Except he was much bigger than me and wearing a black karate uniform frayed at the cuffs and the collar.

  Ian had decorated his office with various photographs, mostly of redwoods or mountain scenery, but the picture behind him showed a farm. The amber waves of grain contrasted beautifully with an old white farmhouse and a deep blue sky. I would’ve asked him about it, but the shorter this meeting was, the better.

  “Make yourself comfortable, Moira,” he said.

  I settled into a soft, overstuffed chair in front of his desk but remained alert. Nothing good could come from this discussion.

  “Relax,” he said with a warm smile. “We can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. You’re a free woman now.”

  I didn’t feel any better. They obviously could make me feel guilty as hell after all their generosity. And I didn’t want to piss him off. Several people had told me this guy had incredible fighting powers. He’d apparently liberated a dozen Rocky Mountain states from sorcery, so he could crush me like a cricket.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” he asked.

  “Nope, thanks anyway.” Can we just get on with this?

  “I hope you won’t mind if I have a glass of white wine. Laura is the connoisseur in the family, and she found this pinot grigio the last time we visited with some friends in the wine country. Are you sure I can’t tempt you
?”

  He was making me crazy, but for no good reason. Like he’d said, he couldn’t make me stay. “Fine, give me the damned glass and tell me what a wonderful deal I’m passing up.”

  He laughed in that easy way of his, like he knew very well he was the toughest son of a bitch in the valley. He poured two glasses and told me the name of the winery, which I promptly forgot.

  After a few minutes of small talk about how ignorant he was of California’s state drink, he asked, “Have you been comfortable here?”

  Finally, we were getting to the point. “Sure, the place is fabulous. Except for the contingent who think I’m a sorceress, everybody’s been very nice to me. Actually, it’s very jarring after living my entire life in a world where everyone treated me like shit. Maybe I’d feel better if you slapped me around.”

  His laughter boomed in the room. “Sorry, but my mama taught me never to hit a lady, unless she hits me first.”

  My frustration with this cat and mouse game was growing, and I was almost tempted to smack him, just to move things along. Instead I swirled my drink. It was actually surprisingly tasty. I’d never gotten the chance to drink good wine.

  “So,” he said, just to make sure we understand each other, here’s the offer we would be pleased to make to you as one of my new disciples. In general, you would be paid at the rate of ten thousand dollars per month to help me clean up my territory in central California. It extends from half Moon Bay in the northwest down to Pismo Beach in the southwest, across the Central Valley and Sierra Nevada mountains to Death Valley in the southeast, and north from there to Yosemite and Mono Lake. It’s a huge area, but mostly empty. The big cities are San Luis Obispo, Fresno, Santa Cruz, and Salinas. They collectively have a population of several million, but that’s small change in this state.”

  “What about Bakersfield?” I asked. That town was full of sorcerers.

  “Nope, thank God,” he said. “That’s somebody else’s problem. Connor Lincoln’s, actually.”

  It sounded like Ian had his work cut out for him. “After my family is safe, I’ll be happy to help, but that isn’t possible now.”