She bit her lip, shaking her head again. “He’ll kill me.”
Growing tired of William’s nice-cop act, I decided it was time for bad-cop to initiate truth extraction sequence. I wove my fingers through the hair on the top of her head, gripping rigid fingers into her scalp. “I really hate John, but I don’t mind one bit taking care of you for him.” My fingers drilled deeper into her skin, acknowledgement painting her expression. “You know who I am?”
Her head bobbed once.
“You know what I’m capable of?”
Two bobs.
“Then we’ll ask once more. I know I’ve shown an exceptional level of restraint as of late, but something about knowing you and whoever’s with you were sent to kill the man I love kind of makes restraint a moot point.” I raised my brows at her, half of me wanting her to keep her lips sealed. “How long do we have?”
This time her answer came like a river exploding through a dam. “They gave me a half hour.”
I looked at my wrist out of reflex, not needing the absent watch to know how much time had already gone by since we’d caught the Inheritor Snitch. We had twenty-six minutes left.
“Good girl,” I said, eager to have my skin off of her. I looked at the man across from me. The thought of having him back in my life, only to be taken from me all in the same night, was not an acceptable option. “We’ve got to go. Now, William.”
He stayed rooted where he was, unmoving. “We have to take her with us. She knows you’re here and when she tells whoever’s back there waiting for me, their two dozen will become two hundred before we cross the Mexican border. I won’t put you in that kind of danger. She comes with us.” He looked at me and despite wanting to, I knew arguing with him would get me nowhere.
“Fine,” I said, ready to hoist her up. “I’ll throw her over my shoulder. But we’re getting you out of here now.”
William grabbed my forearm, halting me. “I can’t leave them behind,” he nodded behind him to the medical tent where a Spanish lullaby was soothing a cooing newborn.
“Darn it, William Hayward,” I said, exasperated. He was making the world’s mission of killing us easy.
His fingers stroked my cheek with one hand while he fished a cell phone out of his back pocket with the other. Pressing a couple keys, the speaker on the other end picked up midway through the first ring. William interrupted whatever greeting was being given. “I need you here, brother.”
Something was said, likely in sarcasm, on the other side of the line. William chuckled, turning his back to us and striding forward for some privacy. The last thing I heard him mention was our location and who knows what followed, coordinates, directions, or astrology, but when he turned around, joining his female admirers again, he asked, “You have any Morphers in this neck of the woods?”
Patrick’s voice burst through the speaker. “I have Morphers in every neck of the woods.”
“Good. I need one here. Oh, and Patrick, they’ve got twenty minutes.”
Patrick humphed. “Good thing he’s fast.”
The line went dead and, before he could pocket it, Patrick was there, blocking my view of William . . . already irritating before he’d opened his mouth.
“Nice directions, brother,” Patrick said, slapping the side of William’s arm. “Any better and I would landed on your shoulders.”
I cleared my throat, making no disguise of the irritation in it. “You know how your brother said we didn’t have much time?” I didn’t wait for Patrick’s smirk to turn to me. “That includes none for your antics.”
“Oh how I missed that voice, like teeth gnawing tyrofoam.” He flicked his ear, tilting his head back at me.
“Watch it, Patrick,” William warned, more fond than fierce. I often thought that his weak spot, next to me, was Patrick.
“You guys good?” he asked, looking at William, but sounding like he was asking me.
“Yes,” William and I answered simultaneously.
“So soon?” Patrick shook his head through his laughter. “I’ve got three words for you,” he gripped his brother’s shoulders, leaning forward like he was about to share something critical. “Hard to get. It’s okay to play it every century or two. Especially when the woman who turned you into chop suey comes begging at your door,”—he looked back at me, a twinkle in his eyes—“and with that sad puppy dog face she’s been wearing the better part of two months, I’d say she’d be willing to give you anything you wanted.” Patrick’s eyebrows crested as he elbowed William. “Here are three more words for you, brother—”
“I appreciate all the manly, brotherly advice coming from someone as experienced as you are in the woman department,”—William and I shared a look—“but there really is no time for this right now. Later, okay? I’ll take any advice you can give me that would help me get whatever I want from her.” We shared another look, but this one both had us blushing.
Patrick looked back at me. “You can thank me later,” he said, winking, before he finally noticed the Inheritor spy I was keeping down with my hand wrung around her neck.
“Hellllloooow,” Patrick said, more of a whistle than an annunciation. “And who have we here?”
“She hasn’t told us her name, but she’s one of John’s and whoever’s waiting for her was sent to kill William.” Something feral gripped around the last few words, making me sound fierce.
“I’m Sierra,” she offered, staring up at Patrick.
“Sierra,” he rolled the name around in his mouth, tasting it. “Now there’s a range of mountains I wouldn’t mind summiting.”
I rolled my eyes, wanting to stick my finger in my mouth, but Sierra beat me to a response. “That bloated charm of yours might have worked on plenty of girls before.” Her eyes skimmed down the length of her body. “But do you see any girls here?”
“Oh, I like this one,” Patrick said, his eyes dancing from her to William. “Can I keep her, dad?”
“Go swan dive off a cliff, Patrick Hayward.”
He looked thrown by this, but more excited than anything. “I see my reputation precedes me. What did I tell you, William? My looks and charm are legendary.”
One side of Sierra’s mouth curled up. “John told me Patrick Hayward was the most conceited, raving ego-maniac in the history of Immortality.” The other side of her mouth followed suit, revealing a smile that was all teeth and wit. If she hadn’t been sent to end my meaning for life, I might have actually liked this glamazon chick. “Your reputation really does precede you.”
Patrick’s head looked like it had just experienced whiplash, but he was as quick on his feet as she was. “Saucy.”
“Bite me,” she said, looking like she was ready to go all night if need be and I didn’t doubt she could do it.
“All spice, minus the sweet. Just the way I like it,” Patrick said, stepping towards us.
“You gag that one,” I said to William, nodding at Patrick. “I’ll gag this one. That’s the only way we’re going to get out of here before John’s army of assassins comes looking for us.” I glared at Patrick. “Again.”
“Relax, relax. We can’t go anywhere until my Morpher gets here anyways.” Patrick consulted his watch. “I would have thought you’d be in a better mood since you got your man back.”
Another five minutes had passed and if another five did before the Morpher showed up, I was binding William’s wrists and ankles, tossing him over my shoulders, and sprinting with the wind until I hit Canada.
“Sorry I took so long,” a man said in a strong Latin accent, breezing to a stop in front of Patrick. “Traffic,” he said, shrugging.
“And by traffic you mean . . .” Patrick asked, looking like he already knew the answer.
The man nodded. “John’s men. About thirty of them spaced over a five mile direction that way,” he nodded to the direction he’d just come. “Might I suggest, sir,”—he looked at William like a devote Catholic would the Pope—“going the other way.” He pointed his head in front of him.
“You know what you’re getting yourself into?” William asked, concern lining his face. “You know what these men were sent to do to me. What they’ll do to you if they catch you?”
The man looked William straight on. “It would be an honor to die in your defense, sir.”
Patrick’s eyes rolled to the sky. “I told you, Norberto. Nix the sirs and hero-worship. Ruler of the universe doesn’t like it.”
Norberto bowed his head. “Pardon me, sir . . . I mean . . .”
“Thank you, Norberto,” William interrupted, patting the man’s brown cheek. “You are giving me the opportunity to get her out of here. I will be forever indebted to you.”
Norberto looked up at William, his eyes shiny wet. He thrust his fist to his chest. “It is an honor.”
“Alright, alright,” Patrick said, pulling Norberto to the side. “He may be Zeus of the Immortals, but he’s still my brother . . . and he’s even been known to fart every now and again.” He flashed William a look that was all annoying little brother before turning to Norberto. “Alright, show time, buddy. Do your thing.”
Norberto looked at William, studying him like a sequence of code, his eyes moving like a typewriter. His body started to quiver, like something inside was trying to burst its way to the surface. I felt my mouth drop, but given I was watching a man change, square-inch by square-inch before me, I felt it was a better response than screaming in horror. The transition was smooth, but not instant. It started at his feet, moving up his body like a theatre curtain being lifted to reveal the star attraction hiding behind it.
Norberto was short and slight, but by the end of it, he’d lengthened the full six foot three godliness that was William and stacked layers of muscle in all the right places.
“Oh, my gosh. . .” I was incapable of offering anything more intelligent.
William, or Norberto-William, looked at me, hitching his hands on his hips, and flashed a smile that was scary similar to the one that made my body rush whenever William gave it. He winked.
William tapped Norberto’s chest. “Don’t get any ideas. She’s taken.”
“Lucky girl,” Sierra said, her eyes ping-ponging between the two Williams like mine were. “That’s a dilemma I wouldn’t mind finding myself lip deep in.”
“Why?” Patrick semi-hollered, lifting his hands to the sky. “Why is it every female in existence goes for you when you’ve only had it bad for one of them?” Patrick looked at me with playful exaggeration. “What a waste.”
“You’re not bad to look at either, sweetheart,” Sierra said, looking Patrick over. “But there are these key characteristics women look for in a man: humility, intelligence, passion, that whole I’d-go-to-the-ends-of-the-earth-for-the-woman-I-love thing. It’s a thing called romance. And from everything I’ve heard, you’re the anti-romantic.”