“RAKE Danescu took Finn,” I told them.
“How?” Elana asked.
Ian smiled; it was the first real one I’d seen from him. “Portal. But when I tackled the little bastard on that stage, I tagged him in the left ass cheek with a tracking chip.”
That right there went above and beyond the call of duty. Ian Byrne deserved a medal.
“Best hope that chip of yours is multi-dimensional,” Elana said.
“Prince Finnegan wasn’t all Danescu got,” Ian continued, “he also got the identity and a look inside the mind of SPI’s newest seer.”
“He didn’t look inside my mind,” I protested.
“Did he touch you?”
Did he ever.
Elana chuckled. “From the look on your face, I’ll take that as a yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“Familiar with the word ‘enthralled’?” she asked.
“I’m not enthralled.”
“How hard did you try to escape?”
I thought about that.
Elana nodded knowingly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Meaning that if Rake crosses your path again—”
“I’m screwed.”
“And if you’re lucky, it’ll be literal.”
“Elana,” Ian said in a warning tone.
She snorted. “Any woman and half the men I know would do Rake.”
Ian scowled. “It’s my job to have kept that from happening.”
“You had your hands full—and apparently so did Rake.”
There was no denying that. My favorite lady parts got all tingly again. I mentally smacked myself. Rake Danescu was gone and the residuals were enough to . . . what if he were here, his hands running over my . . . I smacked myself for real.
Elana nodded once. “Like I said, enthralled.”
“Okay, he was kind of hot. Doesn’t mean I’m enthralled; I just need one really good date is all.”
“New girl in town,” Elana mused. “New Southern girl. Play up that Scarlett O’Hara of yours, and I can fix you up.” She thought for a moment. “You don’t mind Yankees, do you?”
“As long as they don’t drink blood or eat brains.”
THE goblin had Finn. We had a tracking device on Finn. Rake Danescu had flying monkeys at his command. But we had an advantage that didn’t have a thing to do with minions or superior spy technology.
We had a naked Russian at the wheel—a really pissed, naked Russian.
In werewolf form, he’d have enough fur to cover the necessaries, but he wouldn’t fit in the truck, let alone be able to get his hands with their five-inch claws around the steering wheel. So shapeshifting back to a naked Russian it was.
I was trying not to look. Fortunately Yasha the naked human was nearly as hairy as Yasha the werewolf. Hugh Jackman had nothing on this guy.
Those leprechauns had stolen Yasha Kazakov’s tricked-out Suburban. It was his baby, his mobile office—hell, it was his partner. And his partner had been kidnapped and taken for a joyride by creatures that in their real form didn’t have legs long enough to reach the gas pedal.
A couple of hours ago, I would have felt sorry for the little guys, being chased by an enraged werewolf who’d already gone wolf once tonight and had beaten one of Rake Danescu’s bouncers like dirty laundry on a rock. But now? If—no, when—he caught up to those leprechauns, he was liable to squash them into green Play-Doh. And after all they’d put us through, I’d gladly hand Yasha the hammer.
The tracking chip Ian had planted on Finn was on the move, so we didn’t have time to wait for a replacement vehicle or prisoner transport from the SPI motor pool. Ian liberated a bakery delivery truck that was parked near the end of the block.
That was the best thing that’d happened to me all night. Until I smelled those cookies, I had no idea how hungry I was. A porn crawl through New York City sure worked up an appetite.
The truck was still half loaded with cookies and pastries in all their glorious forms and flavors. Technically it was stealing, but by rescuing Finn from Danescu’s clutches, we’d save the city from the effects of the goblin mage’s three wishes. When you thought of it that way, we were fueling up to prevent the spread of evil. That was noble, right?
Clover weed might not have been pot, but it obviously had the same side effects, at least for the leprechauns. The two stoned leprechauns had a bad case of the munchies, and anything that would keep them quiet was good.
Though after I told Ian how the little bastard had gleefully sold us out, Finn had better hope Rake Danescu used the Hand Wave of Destruction that he’d shown me on him. As a senior agent and chief agency ass kicker, Ian had first dibs when we caught up to him. If there was anything left, I’d gladly take seconds. Finn offered to put me to sleep so Danescu could have his way with me. That pissed me off; though I didn’t want to admit even to myself part of that was because I’d sleep through whatever the goblin did to me.
“I’ve so got to get a boyfriend,” I muttered.
“What?”