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He took my elbow, and when the crowd got thicker as we approached the side door, he moved his hand to the small of my back. We stepped out into the cold. I shivered before he maneuvered me to stand beside one of the industrial-sized warming lamps.

Thoughtful. Considerate. Tricky.

The bass still thumped through the closed shutters of Lafitte’s, but we were the only people in the courtyard. November wasn’t the best time for outdoors, even as far south as New Orleans.

“All right,” I said. “I’m ready. Shock and awe away.”

“You aren’t taking me seriously.”

“That’s kind of the way I roll, chief.”

“Stop it. This is important.”

His urgency startled me. I flinched when he put his hands on my shoulders. They were big and warm, and covered a lot of bare surface area.

“I’m sorry.” He started to move his hands, but I grabbed his wrists.

“Uh-uh,” I said. “It’s too cold.”

I liked the warmth and the feel of his skin against mine. He slipped his jacket off his shoulders and wrapped it around me.

That’s when I noticed he wasn’t packing heat.

That’s when I got nervous.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“I’m part of your security detail.”

“Security details carry weapons.”

He hedged. “I wasn’t sure of the carrying laws in Louisiana. Not in a bar.”

“Laws don’t matter when you work for Paul Girard. You do what he says.”

“I’m new at the security thing, and if you don’t let me take you home, I’ll never get a chance to be old at it.” His eyes told me he was worried about way more than losing his job.

“I’ll let you take me home.” His look of relief disappeared when I held up my hand. “When you tell me who you are.”

I watched him mentally backpedal, then scramble around for a good answer. It didn’t take too long.

“You were right.” He exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping. “Your dad told me about your transmutation ability.”

“Smooth. Totally nonobvious subject change.” Maybe I’d been wrong about the smart thing. “Don’t even try to play like that’s all you know.”

“You aren’t the only person in the world with time-related abilities.”

He shouldn’t have seen what we saw inside Lafitte’s. And he shouldn’t know about people with time abilities.

“Do you have your own brand of magical powers?” I fisted my hands on my hips. “Is that why he told you about me?”

“Yes. No.” He ran his hands over his short hair, and then repeated it, like he forgot what it felt like.

“Do you work for Chronos?”

“No, not Chronos.”

He could see ripples. He knew about time-related abilities. Nothing shocked him, even my quick change from one face to another. Then I remembered something Dad said.

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