Trace of Magic by Diana Pharaoh Francis

faded slowly. He deliberately set his gun on the center console, leaving one hand on it. The threat was clear.
    “One more thing. I want to know what you aren’t telling me. Right now.” But he looked at me, not at Taylor.
    I didn’t blink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I didn’t either. I mean, I was hiding everything I could from him. How was I supposed to know what exactly had set off his radar?
    “The haunters.”
    “Haunters?” I echoed, pretending I had no idea what he was talking about and scrambling to figure out what to say next. I’d hoped he wouldn’t figure it out so soon.
    He sighed and his jaw knotted. “The crime-scene unit has a tracer. I know there were two haunters. The question is, why didn’t you tell me?” He pointed at me. “If I’m going to help you, you can’t lie to me.”
    “Who says you’re going to help me?” I tossed back, then reminded myself I should just shut the fuck up before he put a bomb in my shoes. Don’t get me wrong. I mostly believed that he hadn’t killed the guys that were after us, and if he had, they’d have got what they probably deserved. But to Price they were as disposable as Kleenex. I knew I was, too.
    “I did help you,” he snapped.
    “You’re a Tyet man. Now that you know there are haunters involved, your incentive for finding Josh disappears,” I accused, sudden anger getting the better of me. Taylor clutched my arm warningly. I ignored her. “Since someone in the Tyet is clearly behind his kidnapping, there are decent odds you’ll jump in to help cover it up, or do whatever dirty work your boss—Gregg Touray—needs you to do. You know Josh cares about Taylor; I’m guessing that whoever took him will want her for leverage to make him cooperate. You know the drill: cut her, make her hurt, make him behave. Maybe your boss has Josh and will want to use her himself, or maybe he’ll sell her to the kidnappers. Either way, we’ll be lucky if anybody finds our bodies.”
    Taylor gasped, and I put my arm around her, my stomach clenching. I hadn’t meant to put it so baldly, but here we were in the backseat of an enforcer’s car with nowhere to go and a gun aimed in our general direction. Mincing words seemed pointless. My chin jutted. “Am I wrong?”
    His face worked. “There is at least one other possibility,” he said. “Has it occurred to you that I might just help you?”
    “No,” I said bluntly. “Why would you?”
    “I’m a cop. It’s my job.” His teeth clipped each word off sharply.
    “Now you’re asking us to believe in fairy tales.” I leaned forward. “I know you’re a decent cop. I’ve paid attention. But the fact of the matter is that you work for the Tyet, so you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t trust you.”
    He met my gaze for a long moment. His eyes were turbulent and hot. I resisted the urge to look away.
    Finally he spoke. “I might surprise you,” he said, before he twisted around and slammed the car into gear. The wheels spun and the rear fishtailed as he jumped on the gas. I had no idea if he was going to take us to Taylor’s or if he was going to turn us over to the bad guys. I silently jeered at myself. If I really didn’t trust him as much as I said, I’d have broken the tab and run when he sent us out to his car. The truth was, I did trust him, as stupid as it was. At least I wanted to. I hoped I wasn’t going to regret that.

Chapter 6
    THE CAR SLID around a corner and nearly skidded into a street light. Price straightened out just in time and jammed the accelerator to the floor. I held onto Taylor, who had a death grip on the arm of the door and my thigh. Neither of us spoke, except when Price asked for directions.
    Taylor’s place was one of the picturesque postcard sorts of places that tend to end up on the covers of magazines. It was three stories tall with a broad porch running all the way around it. Built back in the late eighteen hundreds, it had lovely gables and