“So your brother is an actor in L.A.?” Micha said. “You and I haven’t really talked much, have we?”
“It’s not been a very good time for socializing. And yes, he is. He does more grunt work at studios than acting right now, but he’s working on it.” Was working on it? She pushed the terrible thought away.
“Has he been in any movies?”
“He’s done some extra work. A few commercials. Had a small part in a TV pilot, but it never got picked up.”
“You know, it’s okay that you ran.”
She squinted against the wind. Micha’s hair fluttered over his forehead, his own eyes squinted as well.
“Tell my brother that.”
“Out here, on the run, you still have a chance to save him. In there, if you’d let them catch you? You’d both be screwed.”
Her hands trembled from the cold. Or emotion. Or both.
“Right now both our lives are messed up,” Micha said. “But we have to figure out the right thing to do before more people get hurt. Before anyone else goes down because of this.”
Putting the needs of others first. She being selfish as she was, she didn't know if she could ever tolerate someone like that.
“You’re a good man, Micha.”
“You don’t know that. You don’t know me.”
The air whistled around the balcony and pushed under her shirt like a solid icy mass.
“Why don’t we go back inside?” Micha motioned to the door. “It’s cold out here.”
She stood up and turned away from the railing. “All right.”
Back inside, Cindy had a fresh glass of whiskey. Sam leaned on the back of the sofa he’d been sitting on, cell phone to his ear, hip jutted out. June walked around him and discreetly checked him out, or so she thought.
“I saw that,” Sam murmured.
She shrugged and flopped down in her spot next to Micha on the other sofa.
Sam lowered the phone and pressed it against his shoulder. “June, who was the lead researcher on your study?”
She struggled to recall. “John…McKormic? I think. Short guy, balding. Obnoxious.”
“Do you know him?” Sam asked Micha.
“I know who he is,” Micha said. “I’ve talked to him at fundraisers. He’s a brilliant man, created more efficient research techniques, made them more streamlined and specific.”
“So jacking my blood was his idea.” June scowled.
Sam placed the phone back to his ear. “John McKormic? Do you know him?” A pause as he listened. “Yes. Send someone to have a chat with him, someone who can get some information. Send a witch if you have to.”
Cindy jerked her head around.
“Find out if the other Coffin twin is alive,” Sam said. “Call me back at this number.”
Sam took the phone from his ear and clicked off. “So you know this guy, Micha? This researcher?”
“We’re not best friends or anything, but he knows me. I’m sure he knew my…wife, too, if she worked at the Institute.”
“Well then, we need to make sure he doesn’t see you, since he’ll recognize you. You’re staying here at the hotel until further notice, with June.”
“We’re staying here?” June asked.
“You want my help, you get my protection. Package deal.”
“So benevolent,” June said. “We could just go in and shoot up the place, too. Cindy would love to help with that, I’m sure.”
She shot June a glare.
“Completely realistic,” Sam replied. “You’ll keep your ass here until otherwise told not to.”
June saluted him. “Aye aye, Captain.”
“Good, you passed your second test. We’re getting somewhere.”
“What was the second test?” June asked.
“Doing what I tell you to, without question. Cute and smart. Cindy, I’m having Robbie come pick you up.”
“I am not cute,” June said.
Chapter 4
A huge flat screen TV hung on the wall between the two sofas; June sprawled on one, Micha the other. They were watching a news program. She couldn’t pay attention though. Everything about her current situation bothered her—lying down, watching TV, cozy and safe while somewhere, in the depths of the foreign city surrounding her, her brother languished as a prisoner. If he still lived at all.
Sam’s bodyguard, Muse, had returned about an hour before, and she and Sam left together, Sam declaring he had “important business” to take care of. He gave them strict instructions not to leave the room in his absence. June had no intention of wandering around the hotel showing off a lack of common sense or taking a stroll down Michigan Avenue with a big target on her back.
“Does Sam live in this hotel or something?” June asked.
Micha wasn’t watching TV, either. He was stretched out, shoes off, arm propped on the back of the sofa. “I don’t know.” He sounded distracted and distant. “I don’t know a lot about Sam. Just that he’s gregarious. I mostly try to avoid him. I’ve only actually met him once before today.”
“Why doesn’t he like you?”
“Because I’m a normal. He doesn’t think I should be sticking my nose in paranormal affairs.”
“But you help paranormal people, right? All that activism stuff?”
“Not to his specifications.”
She gazed at the ceiling, at the dull afternoon light stretched across the swirled plaster. “So what’s Sam’s specialty? Besides belligerence? And clearly being insane. What’s his super-duper special paranormal power?”
“Not really sure about that, either. People say he doesn’t have any abilities. He’s just crazy and thinks he does. I know he’s got something, though, or his followers wouldn’t flock to him. He told a reporter one time his ability depends on subterfuge. It works better if no one knows about it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, he’s clearly not a mind reader, or he wouldn’t need that little girl. You think they’re screwing?”
“It’s hard to tell.”
They were quiet
