Burned (A Magic Bullet Novel Book 1) (6 page)

"
G
ood day
, gentlemen," I said. I slung my yoga mat over my shoulder in case I decided to use it as a baseball bat. It was softer than a Louisville Slugger, but it would do in a pinch.

"Miss Winters, if you'd be so kind as to come with us." The taller one spoke first. He was a dark-haired man in his early thirties. His neatly pressed suit was pale gray and his tie was pink. No way was this guy going to attack me in an alley.

"With whom am I having the pleasure?" I asked, still keeping up the pretense of politeness.

"Apologies, I'm Niko Scarvino and this is my associate, Mickey Medici."

Mickey dipped his slick, pony-tailed head. I made it a habit never to trust a man with a ponytail.

"Allow us to escort you to our undisclosed location," Niko said.

I laughed. "Oh sure. I always go along willingly when a group of men want to cart me off to an undisclosed location."

Mickey stepped forward and I saw the flash of anger in his eyes. I immediately pegged him as the loose canon of the group. "Listen lady. Just do as we say and you won't get hurt."

I smiled. "I doubt very much I'd be the one getting hurt." They could take away my powers, but they'd never take away my bravado.

He pulled his suit jacket aside and showed me his weapon. "Our associates behind you are equally equipped."

I groaned. Although I wasn't wholly opposed to bringing daggers to a gunfight, I wished I'd snagged another gun from the armory before yoga class like I wanted to. Way to look into your crystal ball, Farah.

"Can you at least tell me who you work for?" It had to be someone local. My enemies wouldn't have had enough time to sniff me out yet.

Niko placed a hand over his heart. "Miss Winters, you have my word that no harm will come to you. Our car is right at the end of the alley."

"It's the black Challenger," said one of the goons behind me. He sounded impressed with himself.

"Don't the cops drive Challengers?" I asked. These guys were
not
law enforcement.

"It's ironic, right?" Mickey said and showed me a gold tooth. An actual gold tooth. I didn't think people had those anymore.

I shrugged. Four guns versus two daggers. The odds were not in my favor. "I'll come, but only if I ride next to him." I nodded toward Niko.

"Done," Niko said. He offered me his elbow and I looped my arm through his, handing my yoga mat to Mickey.

"Take good care of that. It's new," I told him.

"I like the color," Niko said.

"Thank you. I like your tie." Turned out I could give compliments.

We crammed into the car. Niko drove and I sat in the passenger seat beside him. Mickey and the two goons were crushed together in the back. It was quite an image.

"Can we get lunch after we drop off the package?" one of the goons asked.

I craned my neck to glare at him. "Would you mind not referring to me as the package? I'm right here."

They ignored me.

"I'm going in with Niko," Mickey said. "There's that hoagie place a block over. Get me an American hoagie with oil and vinegar. Everything on it."

"What's in an American hoagie?" the other goon asked. "I always order the tuna."

Mickey shrugged. "I dunno. Cheese and ham, I guess."

Niko glanced at him in his rearview mirror. "You guess?"

"American cheese. Maybe turkey. What's the big deal?"

"I generally get the Italian classic," Niko said. Of course he did. "I can tell you every item in that hoagie. How can you eat something if you don't know what's in it?"

"It tastes good. That's all I gotta know."

"Your ignorance is overwhelming," Niko said. "You could be eating hairballs and toe jam or some shit like that, but it tastes good so it's okay. Don't you ever ask what's in it?"

I cast a sidelong glance at my captor. This was not the tough guy talk I expected.

Mickey looked at the goon beside him. "He buys organic now so everything I eat is a problem." He pinned his gaze on Niko in the rearview mirror. "I don't care, Niko. It tastes good. You start questioning everything, there ain't no mystery left in the universe to enjoy."

Niko shook his head and grinned at me. For a goon, he wasn't so bad. Then someone shoved a pillowcase over my head, plunging me into darkness. Oddly, I felt a sense of betrayal. And more than a little pissed off.

O
ne of the
goons pulled the pillowcase off my head and I gasped for air. Once I had a chance to focus, I saw a pasty man of slight build seated at a farmhouse-style dining table. The room was large with a table and chairs on one side and leather sofas around a coffee table on the other. A flat screen television covered most of the opposite wall. It appeared to be the heart of the space, like a Great Room minus the high ceiling. Several hallways shot off in different directions.

"You must be O'Leary," I said, each arm still gripped by a member of the goon squad. "I'd shake your hand, but..." I inclined my head toward my captors.

His brow wrinkled at the sight of me. "Who are you?"

"Alyse Winters."

He studied the length of me, from my high ponytail to my lululemon yoga pants to my casual sneakers. "Is this a joke?"

"I don't find kidnapping very funny. Do you?"

He pushed back his chair and walked over to me. He was no taller than my shoulders. "I don't get it. Shouldn't you be wearing skintight black leather and knee-high boots?"

"Who am I supposed to be? Batgirl? Nobody should wear leather in this heat."

He looked over to Niko and Mickey. "Is this how you found her?

"She was coming out of a yoga studio, boss," Mickey said.

"If it's any consolation," I said, "I have a black eye under all this makeup and a small dagger in my sports bra."

He broke into a wide grin. "Hey Pinky, she dresses like you."

Pinky stepped forward and I looked at her for the first time. A petite blonde with bubble gum pink capri leggings and an off-the-shoulder T-shirt that read Basic Bitch. Her blue eyes flickered over me and she blew a large bubble before sucking it back between her teeth.

"She's old," Pinky said dismissively.

I was old? I couldn't help it. I lunged for her.

Fingers tightened around my biceps, digging into my skin.

"Whatever," Pinky said, with an Elvis Presley-style snarl.

"Here's a bright idea. Maybe your friends can release me so we can have a civilized conversation," I suggested. "That's why I'm here. To talk."

O'Leary looked nervous. In fact, he seemed unaware of my cuffs. His expression suggested that he was waiting for me to summon an Uzi and blow them all to bits. I was here because I thought O'Leary was plugged in, but now I was beginning to doubt he was capable of helping me. For the tenth time today, I wondered what was Flynn thinking?

O'Leary debated my appearance for another moment before nodding to the foot soldiers. They released me and took a step to the side. Still within striking distance, I noticed.

"Would you be a doll and hand over your small dagger?" O'Leary asked. "I'm not sure why my men would bring you in here without patting you down first." He shot them a pointed look.

"We tried," one of the goons began, but O'Leary cut him off with a chopping motion.

He turned his gaze back to me. "Any other weapons you care to disclose before we conduct our business?"

I glanced down at my yoga pants and back to O'Leary. "If there were a bulge, I think you'd know." That was a lie, of course. My jade daggers were nestled against my inner calves. My security blanket.

"Pinky," O'Leary said, gesturing her forward. "Confirm our guest's story, please."

My eyes widened. He wanted his teenaged companion to feel me up? My chest tightened. It wouldn't take her long to locate my daggers.

The blonde raised a hand in my direction, palm up, and murmured a word I couldn't quite hear. She lifted her hand until it was in line with the top of my head and then dragged it down to the floor. A hands-free, full-body scan.

"She lied about the dagger in her sports bra," Pinky said, snapping her gum.

Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"They're secured to her calves," Pinky continued. "They're pretty. I like that shade of green."

I stared at her. "Ever consider a job with airport security?"

O'Leary clucked his tongue. "And here I thought we were being straight with each other."

"She's a mage," I said softly. And a good one to boot. Thanks to my fieldwork, I had enough experience with mages to recognize a blossoming talent. Flynn had mentioned the mage rage with the local criminals these days. Apparently, it had spread to O'Leary.

He cast an admiring glance at Pinky. "She's shown real promise," he said. "Impressive for such a young, pretty thing." His fingers swept down her cheek and I saw her cringe. It was brief, but I noticed.

"And what does a businessman like you need with a mage?" I asked.

"I'm the head of casino operations in the Mid-Atlantic Colony."

It had a better ring to it than head of money laundering.

"You don't need a mage for that," I countered. "What's the real reason?"

O'Leary shrugged. "I didn't want to be left out. Rocco's got one, Luciano's got one. Even Hugo got in on the act and he's my friggin' accountant."

"Somebody's got to work magic on those numbers," I said.

"Hand over the daggers, please," O'Leary said.

I shook my head. "Not going to happen. If I keep losing borrowed weapons, my friend will stop supplying them."

Pinky cocked her head, still studying me. Her perky nose bunched up like a bunny's. "Her aura is wrong. I see lightning in a bottle."

More like a djinni in a bottle, but okay.

"What do you mean, Pinky?" O'Leary's curiosity was piqued.

"Dunno," she said, returning to her casual teen vibe. "I don't get it. She reeks of power, but she looks human. Why hasn't she gone invisible or summoned a machete?"

"Maybe because I don't want to," I said, lifting my chin a fraction. As strong as this mage might be, she was too inexperienced to recognize a cuffed djinni. Bless her cotton socks.

"Or because she can't." O'Leary rubbed his hands together. "I've heard of this, but I haven't had the pleasure of seeing it in person." He caught sight of my copper cuffs. "It's those things, right? They keep you trapped as a human?"

Well, the mystery was fun while it lasted.

"I prefer to think of it as djinni-challenged." I had to do a better job of biting my tongue if I expected to get out of here in one piece. Even though Niko had promised me safe passage, he was no longer the thug in charge and O'Leary clearly had nothing to tell me about my burn notice.

O'Leary looked me over again, assessing me. "I like your moxie, Miss Winters. You know what moxie is?"

"Me and every Jewish person over forty."

He smiled and I noticed the yellowish tint of his teeth. "Why were you looking for me?"

"I need information."

"And you thought I could help?" He pretended to look flattered. "What kind of information?"

"It doesn't matter." He wasn't able to help and the less people who knew my business, the better.

O'Leary stepped closer and lowered his voice. "It matters to me. Tell me, Miss Winters."

I was going to throttle Flynn the next time I saw him. For so many reasons.

"The Shadow Elite issued a burn notice and sent me packing. I want to know who cuffed me and why. A friend of mine thought you might have sources with that kind of information."

O'Leary gave me an appraising look. "You were an Elite agent?"

I nodded. "I trained at the Academy. PAN wanted me to stay, but I chose to go." And I was still in the Marida court's royal doghouse for joining the Shadow Elite. The Marida were proud rulers. They felt that it was beneath a Marid to work in shadow intelligence. Those jobs were better left to sneaky Shaitans.

"And now your employer has fired you and cut off your powers." He tapped his chin with his index finger, thinking. "I'll see what I can find out for you. It might take time, though. Some sources are difficult to track down. Meanwhile, I expect you might be in need of employment."

"Possibly." Definitely. "What are you thinking?" Desperate times called for desperate measures.

"I've been looking for something. Maybe you can help me find it."

"I'm listening." If I was lucky, maybe it would be a runaway dog.

"A family heirloom went missing a few weeks ago. I want it back and I want the asshole who took it."

Not a runaway dog then.

"What kind of heirloom?" I doubted it was as simple as a diamond broach.

"A scian that was passed down from my ancestors."

I refused to admit I didn't know what a scian was. Marida pride. "What does it look like?"

He tilted his head upward, conjuring up its memory. "It's a beautiful single-edged dagger. Made from cold iron and copper. Exquisite piece."

"I didn't realize the Irish were big on copper and iron heirlooms."

"The ones who fought djinn were."

So the dagger was basically designed to kill any and all djinn it came into contact with, and he wanted me to recover it for him. Lovely. He must have sensed my desperation. Otherwise, he never would have asked me to find such a dangerous weapon. Under different circumstances, I'd be retrieving a weapon like that in order to destroy it. Now I was nothing more than a dog, playing fetch for my new master. It sickened me.

"I assume that you'll be able to handle the weapon, should you find it," O'Leary said. His eyes shifted to my cuffs.

Back in Philly for two minutes and I was jumping in bed with the mob. The Marida court would go apoplectic if they got wind of this arrangement. In a perverse way, I took pleasure in the thought. I wasn't proud of it.

"The cuffs don't make me completely immune, but the effect will be muted." Unless someone stabbed me with it. Then I'd be permanently muted. I wouldn't let that happen, though.

"So do you accept?" he asked and extended his hand in anticipation.

What choice did I have? I was broke, unemployed and shackled and heavily indebted to my best friend.