THE RISK OF LOVE AND MAGIC (8 page)

Sloppy, nerdy her was becoming entirely too aware of jock pilot him.

He slapped cash on the counter and carried her sacks outside, forcing her to follow. “No beard,” he said. “No Black Bart. If you won’t go all goofy over racks of pink princess outfits, we can Google up a Target and drive inland, pick up the necessities and maybe a pizza for dinner.”

“Goofy?” Letting him stride ahead of her, she stopped in front of a salon. She could whack her own hair with her new scissors as she’d been doing since college, but just once . . . wouldn’t it be nice to have it professionally done?

She hated asking Mad Max for anything more. Maybe tomorrow, when she had her own card. Wickedly, she stepped inside, just to see how long it would take him to discover she wasn’t trailing behind him.

She made an appointment for the next morning. Max was waiting for her outside when she emerged.

“You could have signaled,” he said, waiting patiently for her to precede him down the street this time.

“You wouldn’t have noticed if I’d smacked you on the back of the head with a palm tree.” She wanted to investigate all the fascinating little boutiques they passed. She apparently hesitated too long admiring the work of a tattoo artist—Max caught her arm and moved her onward.

Maybe she should keep dallying so he’d keep holding on to her. Except she needed to focus on Vera, not the improbable.

“The more time we spend in public, the more likely we are to be noticed. I don’t think the general will take your escape lightly. All it takes is one Facebook photo . . .” He let the sentence dangle ominously.

She hurried onward but the reminder only made her angrier. “I’ve
never
had a life,” she protested bitterly. “Once I find Vera and get out of here, I’m going to be a shopkeeper. I’ll make my own hours and go shopping anytime I like. Or go bowling. Or to a fair.”

“You’ve never done any of that?” he asked with frank curiosity, studying her through those clear gray eyes that gave her shivers.

“Jo-jo’s idea of fun was target practice and karate. Want me to chop a board in two?”

“No, thank you. You’re better off knowing how to kick an assailant in the nuts. Muggers normally don’t carry boards.”

“Yeah, my thought exactly. And mostly, the real thieves are hidden behind computers anyway. Or carry guns. I wouldn’t stand a chance against a gun, even if I owned one. So I’m thinking it’s best not to go places where people carry guns.” Nadine wondered if they’d be safe in Costa Rica. She would look up crime statistics.

“Better yet, don’t flash gold in places where people carry guns. And don’t do drugs or rob banks.”

She jabbed a bony elbow into his side. “You’re not amusing.” She’d never talked to a man the way she did with this one, but Magnus Maximus begged for retaliation.

“I’m just trying to figure out if you have any idea that gun control is a serious political issue or if you’re simply making up maxims out of the clear blue sky of your head.” He opened the passenger door of their rental car to help her in.

“Politics are irrelevant since I’ve never been allowed to vote. I caught the occasional on-line news snippet, but finding Malcolms was Jo-jo’s obsession. Keeping up with his business files was pretty much a 24/7 job. And see, I even know slang.”

“From college, six years ago.” He started the engine and pulled out of the B&B’s driveway. “You’re like someone who’s spent her whole life in a museum or a time warp. You’re not quite real.”

She sank into her seat rather than acknowledge the truth of that.

“What was the last film you saw?” he asked.

“Other than the film the newscast promises at eleven?” she asked with just a touch of sarcasm. “What part of 24/7 don’t you understand?”

“Pretty much all of it. No one can work in front of a computer all day and all night, all of their life. You had to get out sometime, at least before they locked you up.”

Nadine crunched her frizzy hair between her fingers but didn’t bother ripping it out as she had for a time as a teenager. “Don’t try to analyze what you don’t understand. I’m a geek. I like computers. I thought I was saving the world while not making a fool of myself having fits in public. End of story.”

“Loco,” he said succinctly.

“You don’t think I haven’t considered that?” she asked angrily. “Why do you think I minored in psychology?”

While La Loca shopped for underwear in Target, Magnus picked up his own necessities. While he walked the aisles, he called Conan to try to persuade him that Dorrie or her family would do a far better job of housing Nadine.

Conan laughed. “We’re planning a
wedding
, big bro. Have you seen women planning a wedding? Her ancient grandmother is toddling around Oz’s place as we speak, rearranging the furniture for good luck or good spirits or gourmet
chee
or whatever. Even Pippa has been reduced to hiding in her studio. Dorrie’s cousins would be eternally grateful if you’d give them tasks that would take them off the map. Want me to send you the Chinese twins and see if they can sniff her out?”

“No, she doesn’t want them involved, says the general hates Dorrie’s family. I still want to send Nadine to Francesca. Those two can play telepath and drive each other nuts. Better yet, send
me
to Francesca. She has a pilot’s license and can fly me to the moon.”

Conan snorted. “I’m not entirely certain Francesca is female, but I’ll talk to her. Her family owes the Librarian almost as much as we do. I doubt that she has a place where you can hide though.”

Magnus twitched his shoulders with discomfort. He was getting too damned
close
to Nadine, to the extent that he almost understood her insanity. He scanned the store in search of her as he talked. “Have you learned anything about the sister?”

“The student registered under the name you gave me hasn’t been in class for a week. I’m working on friends and neighbors,” Conan replied grimly.

Damn
. Magnus didn’t want to tell Nadine that.

“I’m useless without her direction. Keep on it.” Magnus signed off, mentally cursing. How did he tell Nadine that they’d verified Vera had gone off the map? Was she likely to go ballistic again?

And that was only one of his many problems. A kid he didn’t know and who may have wandered off on her own wasn’t as immediate as his current dilemma. Being full red-blooded male, he couldn’t help notice that Nadine was sexily female. She had curves in all the right places. He didn’t need a full rack, just a juicy handful, and she filled the bill.

They were living together. It was natural to think about sex—except she was scarcely more than a naïve teenager with apparent tendencies to imprint on those who looked out for her.

And she was crazy. He had a bad record with crazies. He had to put her somewhere safer than with him.

He stopped in the health care aisle to pick up shaving soap and razor. As an added precaution, he threw in condoms because he was trained to be prepared. And then he checked out before Nadine so she wouldn’t notice.

He’d given her a stack of cash, but he waited by the registers in case she needed more. She’d filled a basket but managed to stay within the exact dollar amount he gave her. She had to be a walking calculator to perform that feat.

He tried his best not to notice what she was buying, although the scissors she’d purchased earlier had worried him. Diane had threatened herself with scissors once. He hadn’t believe the threat. He paid more attention with Nadine. At least Nadine had the sense to keep her hair concealed beneath the hat and her glasses hidden in a pocket so she wasn’t quite as noticeable.

“Want a pizza?” he asked, taking most of her bags and heaving them over his shoulder. He led her out into the suburban shopping strip with its choice of fast foods.

“Please. I’ve lived on sawdust for a year. Can we take it back to the hotel? I’ve thought of a few more places online that I can check. And if those don’t work, I warn you, I’ll start hacking,” she said, following him into the neighboring pizza joint.

“I figured you already had. See what damage you can do from my phone while I order at the counter. Any preferences on pizza?” Magnus gestured at the overhead menu. He’d lived on pizza for years and considered it a basic food group.

She studied the menu and heaved a heartfelt sigh. “Better make mine a salad. I did nothing but get flabby this past year.”

Magnus glanced down at her in incredulity. Her clothes didn’t reveal cleavage, but he could see nice high C-cups. Her jeans revealed soft hips a man with big hands like his could dig into. She was dangerously close to perfect. “Flabby? In what world?”

She glared back. “Flabby. Chunky. Overweight. And I want salad.”

“My God, I finally find a woman who doesn’t look like a spike, and she thinks she’s fat. Never, in ten million years, never will I understand the female mind. You’re all loco.” He stalked up to the counter and ordered one pizza with everything on it, doubled the salad so he could pretend he was eating healthy, too, and added cookies.

By the time Magnus gave his order, Nadine had taken a booth, donned her computer glasses, and was punching the keyboard of his high-tech phone. She glanced up at his approach and eyed him warily. “You really don’t think I’m fat? I’ve never been thin.”

“You’re not meant to be a swizzle stick.” He dropped their Target bags into a booth. “Not any more than I’m meant to be a pencil. I’m big-boned. You’re well-rounded. What matters is if we’re healthy. And quit fishing for compliments. Have you made any progress?”

“Compliments?” She stared at him as if he’d suddenly grown two heads and one of them was green. “I look like a four-eyed orangutan. I don’t expect compliments! All I said was that I needed to lose weight. You’re the one with some personal neurosis about size. And yes and no on the progress.”

“Four-eyed orangutan!
Orangutan?
I’m taking you to the zoo when this is done. Have you ever seen an orangutan? First thing you’ll notice—their hair doesn’t curl. And my weight is muscle. With exercise, yours can be, too. No neurosis there. What did you find?”

Magnus ground his molars at the weight argument. His late fiancée had always ended up turning that one against him. He liked Nadine’s curves, but he wasn’t saying that aloud and giving her any more ideas than she already had. He was having difficulty keeping his eyes from following those rhinestone-studded jean shorts molded to her rounded ass.

He took a deep gulp from his water bottle and kept his mouth firmly shut while she made hash of his phone. He’d never seen anyone type so fast with two thumbs.

“Vera buys teaching supplies from a particular online store,” she said, blessedly dropping the argument. “Her account was used last week, but the shipping address isn’t hers.” She held up the phone to show him.

He grabbed the phone and raised his eyebrows. “Damn, but you’re good at this.” He copied the address, and texted it to Conan, relieved to be back on a sensible path and to not have to tell her that Vera had really disappeared. “We’ll let my brother send one of his men to check out the address. She may have just been making a contribution to some school. Or we could have ourselves a thief,” he added, so she didn’t get her hopes too high.

“What kind of thief buys school supplies? Even I’m not that simple,” she said with scorn, taking back the phone. She was buried deep in the internet when their food arrived.

***

Nadine could barely contain her excitement by the time they carried their meal and purchases back to the B&B. Vera was alive and out there. Her sister was charging to obscure accounts with a different credit card but using the same user name and password she always used.

Nadine wanted to leave right now and find the shipping address, but it was hours north of here, well above L.A., and the Oswins were far better at detective work than she was.

She wished she could say the same about her own objectives.

So far, the general’s new internet guru had changed every server and ID that she’d stored in her hidden cloud storage. She couldn’t touch him. She needed a better plan than a massive FAIL.

So she sat at the small table on the B&B’s balcony and ate salad across from a gorgeous hunk who thought she was an idiot. And loco. And not fat.

Magnus ate salad and pushed half the pizza toward her. Real food instead of loony bin paste was too tempting. She ate a piece of pizza and finished her salad. She resisted the cookie. She didn’t need sugar when she could barely sit still from impatience.

She bounced her leg, played with her hair, and wished for a bike so she could work out some of her frustration. “Do you dance?” she finally asked.

He finished his pizza and regarded her gravely. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

She laughed at his wary non-answer and flung a paper napkin at him. “I never learned. I’ve never been to a concert. I played Pandora on the computer whenever I had a chance, but I have no idea what music is popular. A sign at the beauty shop said there’s a musician at the beach café tonight.”

“And you want to go.” He considered it, checked the sky, and shrugged. “It’s in walking distance. Can’t see how it would hurt anything except maybe our ears.”

“I don’t imagine a café has dancing, but won’t you need to know how to dance for the wedding?” she asked with curiosity. Maybe she needed to spend more time looking up Magnus the Mystery Man.

“I had lessons when I was a kid. I just don’t go looking for opportunities,” he said. “Remember we’re trying to be inconspicuous. Don’t land yourself on YouTube.”

Delighted that he’d agree to give her an opportunity to see a little more of the world, Nadine dashed back into the bedroom to sort through her new acquisitions. She showered and used her new brush and hair goop to straighten her distinctively orange curls. Then she clipped her hair back in a French braid. The night air was cool so she donned jeans with yellow embroidery on the hem and a long-sleeved gold jersey.

She admired the effect in the mirror but decided her waist was too pudgy. She pulled the green hoodie over the top. The sunhat was stupid at night, so she left it off. She didn’t need glasses unless she had to read a menu in dim light, and they’d just eaten. Cocking her head, she tried to decide if she’d look like herself if captured by a camera.