looked sick. “A sadistic bastard. It can’t be Brandon. He loves his daughters.”
“So?”
She regarded him in horror and appeal. “No.”
“Then tell me who else it could be.”
They stared at one another. Then she wrenched free. “I’m going to the hospital. I want to see how Albert is and if there’s anything he can tell us about the mage.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Because you think Brandon will attack me?” A scathing question.
Yes . Instead, he answered calmly. “Because I promised your mom.”
Liz rode down in the elevator beside Carson feeling jittery and sick. Her mind spun uselessly, unable to think of another possibility—another person—who could have betrayed her and Daria. Brandon was pack! He couldn’t possibly have sent someone to attack her, possibly to kill her.
But Brandon had been one of the few London-based members of the Beo Pack who hadn’t turned up last night, despite the late hour, to check how she was. His ex-wife had custody of their daughters, so there was nothing to stop him, and information sped faster than wildfire among wolf-weres. Why hadn’t he been there, especially after he’d stated his intention to court her?
If he was responsible, and she still fought against the idea, then he might have stayed away for fear the mage or one of the mundane fighters would recognize him as the man who hired them.
No. She trembled, sick at heart.
Carson put an arm around her shoulders. “I might be wrong. It mightn’t be Brandon.”
“And if it is?” she whispered as the elevator doors opened.
“Then all hell breaks loose.”
The hospital smelled, as all hospitals do, of disinfectant and sickness, of desperation and dying flowers. It also smelled familiar. Liz walked in the public entrance since Carson was with her. The good news was that Albert wasn’t in Intensive Care, but had been relegated to a general men’s ward. They found him in a private room, talking on the phone.
His eyes narrowed at their arrival. “Sorry, Daria. Liz has just arrived with her boyfriend. I’ll have to go. Yes, yes, I’ll give her your love.” He disconnected. “Want a kiss, ducky?”
Carson stiffened fractionally beside her.
Liz ignored him. She bent over Albert and kissed his clean-shaven cheek. “How are you?”
“Doctor talk.” He scowled at her. “If you want to know, read my chart.”
“Thank you.” She smiled and picked it up. “Everything looks good.”
“It’s like I haven’t been shot at all,” he grumbled.
She replaced the chart and shook his left foot through the light blanket covering him. “Don’t be grouchy. We have questions for you.”
“Oh, goody.”
“First, how come you were talking with Daria?”
Carson glanced up at her, surprised, as he finished placing two chairs by Albert’s bedside.
“Women!” Albert didn’t seem surprised, but a dull flush gave color to his pale face. “Always with the personal side. As it happens, Daria phoned me. John gave her my number. We had a nice chat last night before it was so rudely interrupted, and she wanted to make sure I was okay, today.”
“Fine. That’s your business.” Carson didn’t have the patience for more off-the-topic chatter. “About the wards?”
Albert turned to him with evident relief. “It was the same bloody mage who broke the greenhouse ward. Then he only broke the look-away spell and the inner, keep-out ward bounced him. I’m glad to think he’d have had the hell of a headache.”
“He has one today,” Liz said. “He’s getting over concussion from Carson’s punch.”
“I didn’t want him waking up and capable of using magic,” Carson defended himself.
She touched his arm as he sat in the chair beside hers. “You did what you had to. Thank you.”
“I was about as much help as a fart in a thunderstorm,” Albert grumbled.
“You saved Daria,” Carson said seriously. “We’ve all had time to think about it. The mundanes who came through
“So?”
She regarded him in horror and appeal. “No.”
“Then tell me who else it could be.”
They stared at one another. Then she wrenched free. “I’m going to the hospital. I want to see how Albert is and if there’s anything he can tell us about the mage.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Because you think Brandon will attack me?” A scathing question.
Yes . Instead, he answered calmly. “Because I promised your mom.”
Liz rode down in the elevator beside Carson feeling jittery and sick. Her mind spun uselessly, unable to think of another possibility—another person—who could have betrayed her and Daria. Brandon was pack! He couldn’t possibly have sent someone to attack her, possibly to kill her.
But Brandon had been one of the few London-based members of the Beo Pack who hadn’t turned up last night, despite the late hour, to check how she was. His ex-wife had custody of their daughters, so there was nothing to stop him, and information sped faster than wildfire among wolf-weres. Why hadn’t he been there, especially after he’d stated his intention to court her?
If he was responsible, and she still fought against the idea, then he might have stayed away for fear the mage or one of the mundane fighters would recognize him as the man who hired them.
No. She trembled, sick at heart.
Carson put an arm around her shoulders. “I might be wrong. It mightn’t be Brandon.”
“And if it is?” she whispered as the elevator doors opened.
“Then all hell breaks loose.”
The hospital smelled, as all hospitals do, of disinfectant and sickness, of desperation and dying flowers. It also smelled familiar. Liz walked in the public entrance since Carson was with her. The good news was that Albert wasn’t in Intensive Care, but had been relegated to a general men’s ward. They found him in a private room, talking on the phone.
His eyes narrowed at their arrival. “Sorry, Daria. Liz has just arrived with her boyfriend. I’ll have to go. Yes, yes, I’ll give her your love.” He disconnected. “Want a kiss, ducky?”
Carson stiffened fractionally beside her.
Liz ignored him. She bent over Albert and kissed his clean-shaven cheek. “How are you?”
“Doctor talk.” He scowled at her. “If you want to know, read my chart.”
“Thank you.” She smiled and picked it up. “Everything looks good.”
“It’s like I haven’t been shot at all,” he grumbled.
She replaced the chart and shook his left foot through the light blanket covering him. “Don’t be grouchy. We have questions for you.”
“Oh, goody.”
“First, how come you were talking with Daria?”
Carson glanced up at her, surprised, as he finished placing two chairs by Albert’s bedside.
“Women!” Albert didn’t seem surprised, but a dull flush gave color to his pale face. “Always with the personal side. As it happens, Daria phoned me. John gave her my number. We had a nice chat last night before it was so rudely interrupted, and she wanted to make sure I was okay, today.”
“Fine. That’s your business.” Carson didn’t have the patience for more off-the-topic chatter. “About the wards?”
Albert turned to him with evident relief. “It was the same bloody mage who broke the greenhouse ward. Then he only broke the look-away spell and the inner, keep-out ward bounced him. I’m glad to think he’d have had the hell of a headache.”
“He has one today,” Liz said. “He’s getting over concussion from Carson’s punch.”
“I didn’t want him waking up and capable of using magic,” Carson defended himself.
She touched his arm as he sat in the chair beside hers. “You did what you had to. Thank you.”
“I was about as much help as a fart in a thunderstorm,” Albert grumbled.
“You saved Daria,” Carson said seriously. “We’ve all had time to think about it. The mundanes who came through