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I cursed and yanked my phone out of my pocket. As I checked it, Adam looked over my shoulder before I could hide the screen.
"An online Mafia game?"
I cursed, then took a deep breath and turned to face him. "Yes. I'm an idiot, okay? I obviously haven't been playing since I was in the hospital but . . ."
"But you forgot to turn the blocker back on."
"I'm deleting the game. Right now." I did it as we spoke. "And I'm sorry. That was a boneheaded move. It won't happen again. Please don't tell Paige."
"Have I ever ratted you out? Considering you were in the hospital recuperating from a near-fatal poisoning, I don't blame you for relaxing with a game. And considering all hell broke loose after we left, I don't blame you for forgetting to reactivate the blocker. But disconnecting a security feature when you're in danger--"
"--is stupid."
"Not stupid. Reckless, and you know that. But we don't need to worry about it anymore. In a few hours, we'll be in Miami."
"Miami?"
"Yes, Miami," he said. "We're done here."
"But we need to find Schmidt. We were going to the hospital--"
"Someone else can find him and bring him to Miami. I just rescued you from an assassin, Savannah. If I hadn't been here--"
"But you were here." I turned to him. "I know I need your help, and I'm not taking that for granted. I will go to Miami. I just need--"
"To follow up on more leads, so Paige and Lucas won't find out that your spells are gone."
"I'm not avoiding Miami to avoid them. That's ridiculous."
"No, it's not. You're terrified of telling Paige and Lucas or anyone else. I know why, too, but I'm going to drop that because that's a fight that'll only distract me from this one. You need to be in Miami, Savannah. We both do. As much as I'd rather stay in the field, they need my research assistance. So I'm going."
"And if I don't?"
A flash fire of anger behind his eyes answered me. I'd pushed him too far. He was right. Not about Paige and Lucas--I don't know where that came from--but about the fact that I had almost been killed.
"Can we just stop by the hospital?" I said. "See if Schmidt is there? Then I'll go to Miami with you. I promise."
Dealing with Adam is a lot like dealing with fire itself. I can push and steer him in my direction, but only up to a point. Pass that point, and he'll flare up and lash out. Step back and show respect, and he simmers down.
Problems only arise if I don't heed that warning flash. I've done it a few times. Got burnt. Wised up.
Before we left the hotel, I said, "I guess Roni was right about being on their hit list. I need to call and warn her."
"Okay."
I fished her car
d out of my laptop bag. "That's all I'm doing. Calling and warning. I got the impression she wanted my help--protection I suppose--but she's not getting it."
"Correct. Now, don't just say it. Believe it."
I pulled a face. "Yeah, yeah."
He was right. I'd spent years insisting Paige and Lucas's altruism hadn't rubbed off on me. But I suppose it's like growing up in a cat shelter. You can tell yourself that you never want to see, hear, or smell another cat, but when you stumble over an abandoned kitten, you can't help feeling the urge to help, and feeling guilty if you don't.
That call wasn't easy to make. Roni's panicked cries of "but what am I going to do?" were like a kitten yowling in a tree. I knew she could get herself down again, but it was hard to ignore, all the same. I told her that her aunt Rachel was dead--suicide when she failed to kill me--and that would probably be the end of things. If they came after anyone now, it would be me, for revenge. She wasn't convinced, and eventually I just had to say, "Gotta run. Take care," and hang up.
I called Schmidt again, before we headed out to the hospital. This time, someone answered.
