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"Yes, it was the Cabal. Which means, I had nothing to do with it."
"Because you couldn't possibly be working for the Nasts." She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes. "You set us up. Friday night, when we went by to check out Irving Nast's place, you were there. You followed us, then you set Grant Gilchrist on our trail. You were trying to find Adele for Irving and didn't want us getting to her first."
Hope expected him to say he'd been at Irving's place for the same reason they'd been - scoping it out. An equally plausible excuse. But after a moment, he scooped up his ball cap, pulled it on and said, "Yes, that's how I found you were involved and, yes, I was hired by Irving Nast to find Adele. But I'm not a Cabal employee. I'm an independent contractor."
"A mercenary."
"Not the word I'd choose."
"You don't like it? Well, I don't like being tied up. So how about you let me go and I'll promise never to call you that again."
"Yes, Irving Nast hired me. He thought that was clever - getting one clairvoyant to find another. I was making sure he didn't get her. A Cabal rips the soul from a clairvoyant."
"Considering who we're talking about - killer of cops and celebutantes and innocent bystanders - I'm not convinced a little soul ripping isn't in order. And, no, that isn't the demon talking."
"Adele is... broken."
"That's one way of putting it."
His gaze flicked away, her flippancy unappreciated.
"You've got me, okay?" she said, toning it down a notch. "I surrender. Now take me to the Nasts."
"You don't believe me."
"I want to go - "
"Marsten's fine, Hope. The Cabal wouldn't touch a Pack werewolf, and unless Grant was wrong, that's what Marsten is, and the Cabal knows it. If they wanted him dead, they'd have shot him. They just tranquilized him, neutralizing the biggest threat first."
"Fine, so take me - "
"I can't do that when I'd be in as much trouble as you. And they don't want me going back. Don't you get it? This is a set-up. Do you think letting us escape the front door was an oversight?"
"No, it's proof that you're working for them. They let you go so you could get me out and pretend to have rescued me."
He rocked back on his heels. "What are my vibes telling you? Anything negative there, besides frustration? Anything to suggest I'm lying?"
"As a mercenary - hired gun, hired spy, hired con artist, whatever - you're a professional liar." She met his gaze. "Right?"
He tugged his cap brim, as if adjusting it, a subconscious attempt to pull back under its shadows. A man who preferred the security of anonymity.
"A professional liar can outwit an Expisco," Hope said.
"Not if you were properly trained."
How much did he know about Expiscos? This was the second time his words suggested she wasn't the first one he'd met. The demon jumped to attention, straining forward with questions. Hope hauled it in and muzzled it.
"What possible reason would I have to fake-rescue you?" Rhys said. "To lead me to Adele? You have no idea where she is."
"Okay, then. I'm useless. So let me go."
"You aren't useless to me. I brought one operative on this mission, and your boyfriend killed him. I need help, and I have a feeling you're going to be a lot more useful on this mission than Grant."
"What mission?"
"You haven't asked why the Cabal let me escape that hotel room. What does Irving want?"
