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“It’s my job,” she said drily. “And I’m good at what I do. So you’re not even going to give me the slightest hint as to how this fire is connected to what happened to you?”
“Not yet. But we will have that cake.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
I smiled and hung up. Now what? It was still too early to go find Angus—Janelle said he wouldn’t be at the boat until this evening, and she wasn’t often wrong.
So, what next?
I knew what I wanted to do. It might be stupid, but I wanted to see Damon again. I had a feeling he could answer more than a few of my questions—not that he actually would.
I bit my bottom lip for a moment, then thought: What the hell? I had nothing to lose by at least trying.
I grabbed a sweater, raided the cash my brother kept in his so-called secret spot, then headed out. I caught a cab, but the traffic was its usual chaotic self, so I got out near the Fairmont and walked the rest of the way. The Ritz looked as impressive as ever, its grand façade almost seeming to belong to another century, one more suited to horse-drawn vehicles and ladies in fine silks.
I crossed the road and headed into the foyer. After a moment of admiring the lush surroundings, I headed over to the reception desk. A pleasant-looking woman gave me a friendly smile and said, “May I help you?”
“I’m looking for Damon Rey. He’s a guest here.”
“I can give him a call and let him know you wish to see him, if you like.”
“That would be great.” Even if it wasn’t. He was just as likely to send me away as see me.
“Who shall I say is calling?”
I hesitated. “Just tell him Mercy Reynolds is downstairs waiting for him.”
She nodded and made the call. She didn’t say anything, which meant he wasn’t answering, a fact she confirmed minutes later. “I’m sorry, but he doesn’t appear to be in. Would you like to leave him a message?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
She handed me a notepad. I scrawled down my name and my brother’s phone number, then pushed it back.
“Will that be all?” she asked.
“Yes. Thank you.”
I walked away. So much for that great idea. Maybe I should just head down to Angus’s place, and hang around on the off chance he would get there earlier than Janelle predicted.
I exited the hotel, smiling at the doorman as he wished me a good day, and headed toward California Street. But I’d barely taken a dozen steps when my heart just about leaped into my throat and I froze. In the shadows of the trees lining the curb was one of the men Damon had knocked out last night—the guard with the silky voice.
God, I was stupid. Stupid.
If I could trace Damon to the Ritz, it stood to reason his kidnappers could, too. Hell, for all I knew, this could have been where they’d captured him in the first place.
I needed to get out of here—and fast.
But even as the thought crossed my mind, he looked up. I didn’t have to see his expression to know his anger and his sense of triumph. The feel of it rode across the breeze.
He pushed away from the tree.
I turned and ran down the street and right onto Pine Street, scattering pedestrians as I went. I swung right again, keeping to the shadows of the trees and hoping against hope that I was faster.
A quick glance over my shoulder proved that I wasn’t.
Fear slipped through me. I thought about stopping, abou
t asking for help, but I just couldn’t risk anyone else’s safety. Besides, I could protect myself if I really needed to, and other people—especially if they were human—would just get in the way. Even with the tight control I had over my flames, things could very easily get out of hand in a street filled with cars and people. I didn’t want anyone getting hurt. I couldn’t live with that guilt.
