I told him, “I’ll answer what I can, as long as you promise to accept when I can’t tell you more. As long as you keep Harry safe.”
“Of course!”
“Don’t tell people about the talking rat. Seriously.”
His lips twisted. “They wouldn’t believe me.”
I caught his gaze. “The wrong people would.”
“Ah.” That gave him pause. “Okay, I understand. But how do you know I’m not one of the wrong people?””
Putting my hand on his chest over his heart was a liberty, but he didn’t shake me off. Warmth seeped from his skin to mine through the thin cotton. “I worked for you for a week. You’re a great boss, fair but not soft, kind but not weak. You showed me who you are, day after day.”
“A guy too unsure to drop the suit and tie after a week?” He said it like a joke, but his eyes held a shadow of doubt.
“Hah. Unsure?” I let my hand trail lower. “I seem to remember being on my knees to someone who wasverysure.”
That chased some of the shadows and he smiled. “I do remember that.”
“Vividly.” I plucked at the waistband of his jeans. “Now you’re out of the suit, and no less attractive. Do you think you can be just as bossy in a Henley?”
Robin gripped my wrist, trapping my hand against his hip. “Is that a challenge?”
“Well,” I said. “It occurred to me that the rest of the staff will be arriving in half an hour. We can talk while they’re out here working, but I prefer dropping to my knees without any risk of an audience.”
The pleased sparkle in Robin’s eyes was reassurance I’d urgently needed.I haven’t lost him.He glanced around, and I wondered if he liked the idea of being sucked off right here in the midst of his retail domain. But when I made a move to kneel, he tugged on my arm. “Not here, tempting as it may be. Let’s head to my workshop.”
We walked side-by-side through the half-lit store. The six inches of air between his shoulder and my arm felt overheated. I was regretting wearing my tightest jeans for him.
“So is this a one off?” he asked as we passed the lighting fixture section. “How long will you stay?”
“I promised you two weeks’ notice, and I’ll keep that promise. I work for myself, so I have flexibility.”
“Doing what?”
“I’m a PI. I find people, check out things, do background investigations, stuff like that.”
“With magic?”
I’d made the decision not to keep him in ignorance, back this morning when I’d shaved twice and pulled on these jeans, instead of heading to my own office. “Sometimes. But I’m good with computers. Most of the background stuff is online.”
We paused outside the workshop door. He set his hand on the knob but didn’t turn it. I wondered if he was thinking about the cabinet and Kimber’sDeath Rites.
I said, “I promise, the cabinet’s gone and the book as well, burned to a crisp. A couple of our people sifted through the ashes once the fire was out and there was nothing left. You’re safe.”
“Thank you.” He swung the door open. “I’m still not quite sure what happened.”
“Apparently Magnus Fairborn found a copy of an evil book.” Robin didn’t need to know the title. “He stored it in the cabinet with powerful protection spells. But he put a backdoor shortcut into the lock spell. Three drops of blood from the same person, placed on one of the doors. It’s a known technique. If he was incapacitated, he could give someone else the book that way. You triggered the backdoor accidentally.”Or the book induced you to trigger it.I’d mention that option later, when his exposure wasn’t so raw.
“Oh! When I cut my knuckle, then knocked on the cabinet with the bleeding spot, and then sliced my damned finger.” He eyed the scab on his fingertip. “Did the book make me do that so it could escape? I’m not usually clumsy.”
He wasn’t slow, my Robin. At least he also didn’t sound too creeped out. “Maybe. We’ll never know. Anyway, from then on, the door opened for you. Unfortunately, the cabinet also lost its camouflage spell when you opened it. That’s why Barnes and his demon’s scrying spell could finally locate the book.”
“Scrying?”
“A magical way of finding things, a spell that shows you where something or someone is hiding.” Usually, the sorcerer needed a physical connection to scry with, a scrap of the original or something that had touched it. I wondered what link to theDeath Ritesthe demon had used. Hopefully, whatever it had been was burned now. “I gather they’d been looking hard since Fairborn died, but the cabinet’s spell hid the book until you triggered the lock.”
“Were you looking for the book too? Is that why you took the job here?”
