Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
“And now I want to be there for you.” He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, the touch signifying a lot more for him than words ever could. “I know you’ll hold back with Kieran, and you’ll definitely hold back with Lexi. I’m sure you’ve even held a bit back from Zorn. I know you want to protect everyone. Loyalty is hard won with you, but once you bestow that gift, you will do anything to protect those you care about.” He paused, his gaze delving into hers. “But I also know what it is to be trapped. I don’t want you to hold back from me. Do you understand? I don’t care what danger it puts me in, Daisy. I’ve met the undertaker. I’m not afraid of death.” His grin was slight. “I’m sure Bria could use the extra body to taunt Jerry with. Whatever it is you need—help analyzing the situation, talking about it, venting—I’m available. You aren’t alone in this. I’m with you. Always.”
A weight pressed on Daisy’s middle from the significance of Dylan’s words and the conviction with which he’d said them. Her heart swelled, filling her completely. She almost had to blink back tears, something not normal with her. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d cried. But this meant so much—his worry, his touch, his unwavering desire to help her despite the cost.
Yet she could only nod, thankfully, not sure what to say. Because she couldn’t possibly take him up on that offer. Not when he was so much more valuable to Kieran and Lexi—to their protecting the family—than Daisy would ever be. But it was kind of him to offer.
Rutherford’s open computer sat in the middle of the large dining room table, with the whole crew gathered around. As hoped, Henry and Amber had been able to recover various files from the hard drive that someone had recently tried to delete. They were files relating to Rutherford’s dealings with another entity, a company that had come across a batch of old weaponry with “runes, or some other odd or ancient writings” on them. Obviously it was those sorts of weapons Daisy had wanted to know more about.
But other things had come in the batch. Relics of some kind. Odd stones and rocks with strangely cut, “cloudy or dirty” gems embedded in them. Misshapen goblets with “strange writing” or chipped and pockmarked crystals. It was that which the fae was clearly trying to get his hands on, something their crew hadn’t known about, even with their searches.
It seemed Rutherford had found a buyer for the relics—the two guys Daisy had seen him talking to. The fae had said he needed Rutherford dead so he couldn’t complete a transaction.
Lie.
Rutherford hadn’t signed any deals about the extra loot. The two guys he’d met had wanted more information, and from the notes, they’d seemed plenty interested, but no prices had been agreed to. Rutherford had been killed before anything could be set in stone. If the fae had talked to the other guys, he would’ve known that.
He’d been in that hotel room to get the information from Rutherford. A simple look into his head would’ve sufficed. But he’d killed the guy in a fit of rage instead and momentarily lost control because the man had been advancing on Daisy.
Her stomach dropped out. He was being chivalrous. He had been protecting her.
She had no idea how to feel about that fact, since he’d then essentially thrown her into the fire. She bet that fae didn’t know how to feel about it, either. He’d certainly seemed tense and confused—frustrated—about the whole thing.
Would he have the conviction to kill Daisy when the time came?
“So what you’re saying is,” Kieran said, leaning his elbows on the table, “that computer didn’t say where the goods are actually being stored.”
Henry nodded, his own laptop open in front of him. “Correct. He has one small warehouse where he has stored some weapons for sale—”
“And we have that address?” Zorn asked.
“Correct.” Henry nodded again. “We can ransack that at any time. The goods in question weren’t stored there, however. It seems he got a tip that they might be in high demand among antiques traders, and a certain subset of those traders were prone to thievery. He hid that merchandise.”
“And that isn’t on his computer?” Jack asked, crossing his enormous arms over his chest. “You’d think he’d want to keep a record of it.”
Henry peered at his screen where he’d typed all his notes. “He has the various items listed in his inventory. Each item is usually stored in one of three places—Warehouse, Shed, Garage. For the items in question, the tag is Sarge.” He spelled it out. “They are the only items with that tag.”
“We have some leads, of course,” Amber cut in. “We cross-checked files and went through contacts. One of his friends is a Chester. Oliver Dawson, a former sergeant in the Chester armed forces. He lives in the non-magical zone behind a checkpoint that requires an ID. No magical people allowed. He has a small house but a big barn and a lot of land. Retired now. Another…creature of interest is a cat by the name of Sergeant Whiskers. It is owned by Rutherford’s mother, who lives in Magical Arizona in a townhouse in a fifty-five-and-older community. She has a quaint two-bedroom, not much land, and no other storage areas.”