Bittersweet Magic (The Order #2)

No, he definitely wasn’t bored.

…

Roz dialed the number quickly from memory. Ryan had been trying to contact her for the last twenty-four hours. He could give her a lift home and explain why he had been filling up her cell phone with increasingly urgent messages. It was well after midnight, but she reckoned Ryan wasn’t much of a sleeper.

The red-haired receptionist, Graham, was observing her closely, an amused expression on his face. Roz resisted the urge to tell him to piss-off. That would hardly be nun-like. Instead, she turned away to give herself some semblance of privacy and spoke quietly.

“Can you pick me up? I’m in the city—SA International—you know it?”

“I know it.” Ryan sounded sleepy. Maybe she’d woken him up after all.

“Good, I’ll be waiting outside.” She put the phone down.

“You’re welcome to wait in here until your ride comes.” Graham said.

“No, thank you. I think we could both do with some fresh air.”

He let them out through the big glass double doors and stood watching. It occurred to her that she should perhaps have told Ryan to pick them up somewhere else. Did she want this man to see who she was going with? But she was almost one hundred percent sure they’d bought her story. Otherwise, why would they have let them go? Hopefully, she’d seen the last of The Order of the Shadow Accords, and of Piers Lamont.

The night was warm and the streets deserted. They were in the business district and just about everywhere was closed down for the night. Some of the tension drained from her and she breathed in deeply; she loved the scents of London—car fumes and hot city streets—and the river, which wasn’t far from here. Leaning back against the glass wall, she wondered what she should do first when she got home, a hot, bubbly bath or a big glass of scotch. Maybe a big glass of scotch while in a big, bubbly bath. She’d give herself this evening off, and tomorrow she supposed she was going to have to contact Asmodai and tell him she’d failed. If he didn’t already know. She’d only failed once before, and the consequences hadn’t been pleasant.

“You lied.” Sister Maria spoke from beside her. “We have no mother house in London.”

Roz had almost forgotten the nun was there. She was such a quiet little thing. Though she had seen everybody she knew slaughtered only hours earlier; perhaps an element of quietness was understandable.

Roz cast her a sideways glance. Sister Maria seemed to be coming around a little, a bit of color returning to her cheeks.

“I know,” she replied, “but I didn’t want to stay there. What do we know about them really? Except that they’re somehow connected with the people who broke into the convent last night.”

“I didn’t like them. They felt somehow wrong. I don’t think they were men of God.”

Roz had a brief image of those sinfully wicked blue eyes. “No, I think you might be right.”

“So where are we going?”

Roz pursed her lips. The way she saw it, she had three options. She could leave Maria on the side of the road and drive off with Ryan, she could drop her off somewhere along the way, or she could take her home with her. Her mind baulked at the last option—she never took anyone home; her apartment was her sanctuary. But she couldn’t really leave her here. For one thing, through the glass walls, she could still see Graham watching them both from the reception desk. It would appear odd if she just left Maria. Why the hell hadn’t she arranged for Ryan to pick her up somewhere else?

She knew why, of course. She’d been rattled and not thinking straight. That she’d walked right into the lair of the dreaded Order of the Shadow Accords had totally shaken her. And then to have to confront the first serious case of the hots she’d had for over fifty years had shaken her further. She shifted as a wave of remembered heat washed over her.

“Well?” Maria asked.

“Sorry,” Roz muttered. “I was thinking of something else.” Yeah, six-foot-four inches of stunningly gorgeous man all wrapped up in black leather and totally out of bounds. “I don’t suppose there’s somewhere I can drop you off?”

She felt like a complete heel as fear flashed across Maria’s face. The sister reached out a trembling hand and rested it on Roz’s arm. “Don’t leave me. I don’t know why, but I feel safe with you. Tomorrow, I’ll think about getting word to the Mother Superior, but tonight I just want to forget.”

Oh well. She could share her scotch—there was enough for two—and tomorrow she could arrange transport for Maria to the mother house. It was actually situated in Devon. She’d hire a car and driver, make sure Maria got there safely. And that would be that. Way above and beyond the call of duty as far as she was concerned.

“You can come home with me tonight,” she said.