Page 42 of Challenge Me

“That sounds like poor scheduling on their part.” I rolled my eyes, examining a second vial.

“Lai.”

I ground my teeth, then flashed Al my warmest, most mocking smile. “I won’t miss class. But I hope you’re free tonight, because I’m collecting on a favor you owe.”

Al’s expression tightened with immediate suspicion. “Which one?”

“Exactly.” I tucked the two vials into the breast pocket of my pajamas and got up out of the bed. The cushions resisted, clinging to my legs trying to drag me back into the nest, and my injured ankle threatened to betray me and dump me back in, but I escaped them and moved back to the coffee table, where several folders had vanished beneath a pile of loose papers, unopened letters, and one jeweled dagger that looked a little bit like a peacock, the tail replaced with a patterned blade.

“Are you saying you need help?” Al asked.

I stopped searching and looked back. Al remained seated among the cushions, one knee bent, his arm resting over it. There was no smile on his face now. One brow had lifted slightly, but beneath the familiar skepticism was a small flicker of concern. It was no more than a tightening beside his eyes, a micro-expression most people would never have noticed, but I had once made a career out of noticing things other people wished to conceal.

“I might need help.”

Of course, I could do it alone, but having backup would make the job easier. I needed someone to create a distraction. Not too long- a few minutes for a private chat, and tragically helpful Al was the perfect candidate for the job. I was the God of Chaos, and he worshiped at my altar daily.

I studied him for another moment, weighing the consequences of involving him in what could very easily become bloody business. Then again, Al had never had qualms about dragging me into his messes; I had broken him out of jail, hidden evidence, threatened judges, bribed officials, and once crossed several dimensions to retrieve him after his own poor decisions trapped him in an arranged marriage to a faerie queen. It would be healthy for our relationship if he occasionally returned the favor.

“Want to go clubbing?” I asked.

Al’s smile appeared slowly, stretching across his lips as he nodded. There was no need for further explanation; he knew me too well. He knew I was not suggesting drinks and dancing. “Is it personal, or a contract?” He asked.

“Both.”

“Both?”

“Ghost’s last owner didn’t come back for him because he died in a burglary gone wrong. A gang wanted Ghost. It went bad. So we are going to find those responsible, and I’m going to let Ghost have his revenge.”

Al’s brows both shot upwards. No doubt he had expected a little recreational assassination, not a revenge mission involving a sentient 1970 Dodge Challenger and the group of men responsible for murdering his former owner. Still, he didn’t object. “Are they gonna be at the club?”

I shook my head. “No. But someone who knows who they are will be. Gangs like that can only operate with the blessing of law enforcement, so I’ll start by breaking the fingers of the hands they grease until I know exactly who is responsible.”

Al planted both hands against the mattress and attempted to stand. The bed fought back. Several cushions collapsed around his hips, briefly trapping him, while a length of silk tangled itself around one ankle. I smiled. My old web still knew its purpose.

“We should start right now, then. I’ll get Sparrow to take over your classes.” He grinned, clumsily getting himself free of my bed, the cushions desperate to keep him a prisoner. “Fox and I will be ready when you are.”

Chapter Fifteen

Al

Candy picked up her phone on the fourth ring, answering with a sleepy ‘hello?’. No doubt she was still snoozing off her late shift at the club, buried somewhere beneath the blankets with one leg thrown across Sparrow and absolutely no patience for whichever member of the family had decided to disturb her.

“Hey, babe.” I tried to sound apologetic for waking her, but my mind had gotten stuck on the image of the warm curve of her thigh. “I’m gonna be home late tonight. Lai needs me to help him with a job.”

There was a long silence on the other end; I could practically hear her waking up enough to understand the sentence, and trying to find a polite way to talk me out of it.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” She finally asked, her voice taking on a higher lilt, the same pitch she used only on dogs and toddlers when she begged either to go to the bathroom in the appropriate place and not on the rug.

“Absolutely not.” I leaned back in my desk chair, balancing it on two legs while I stared at the paperwork I had already decided I wasn’t finishing. “It’s gonna go terribly. Someone’s probably gonna get stabbed. But I’m not letting him do it alone.”

“Can’t he take HIS husband?”

“Are you kidding?” I sighed, as though I was as frustrated about it as she was. “Finch isn’t going to let Lai get into harm’s way; he won’t let him go at all. Lai is taking me because he needs someone who won’t stop him.”

Candy released another heavy sigh, this one deeper and far more resigned, the sigh of a woman who had married into our family with the full knowledge of the sheer stupidity we were capable of.

“Bring breakfast tomorrow,” she ordered. “Pancakes for me and a sausage McMuffin for Sparrow.”