The Prof Croft Series: Books 0-4 (Prof Croft Box Sets Book 1) by Brad Magnarella (best business books of all time txt) 📕

“Camilla?” Vega called, stepping into the apartment.

The sobbing I’d heard on the phone returned, now emerging from Vega’s bedroom. When Camilla appeared, she was holding a young boy. “He—he back, Ricki,” Camilla managed amid the sobs. “They br-bring him back.”

Vega holstered her weapon and rushed forward. She took her son from Camilla and held him up at arm’s length. Tony blinked around blearily. Vega examined the fresh Band-Aid on the side of his neck, then looked the rest of him over. “Are you all right, honey? Are you hurt anywhere?”

When he didn’t answer, Vega looked back at me.

I opened my wizard’s senses until I could see the boy’s aura.

“He’s himself,” I said after a moment. “He hasn’t been turned into anything.”

Vega sighed and pulled her son to her, burying her nose in his hair. Tony clamped his arms around her neck. “Thank God,” she whispered, rocking him back and forth while Camilla looked on, crying more tears of relief. “You’re safe, honey,” Vega said. “Momma’s got you.”

She disappeared with her son into her bedroom.

“They bring him back,” Camilla said to me, as though still trying to convince herself it had happened. “The men bring him back.”

“The ones in suits?”

Camilla nodded. It appeared we had met Arnaud’s terms, whatever the intentions behind them.

Ten minutes later, Vega emerged from her bedroom and closed the door softly. “He looks fine, but I’m going to take him to a doctor later this morning,” she said. “Make sure he’s all right.”

While Camilla wrung her hands in prayerful thanks, Vega walked me to the door.

I pointed to her stomach. “Be sure to get yourself to a doctor, too.”

“I will,” she said stiffly.

“Look, I’m really sorry about…” I cocked my head toward the bedroom.

Though Vega nodded, her eyes remained unmoved. “I appreciate all of your help, Croft, but I meant what I said earlier. This is where our partnership ends.” She shook her head when I tried to talk. “I know you didn’t mean for anything to happen, but it did. I can’t work with someone who would put my child at risk like that and not tell me, regardless of the circumstances.”

I pressed my lips together. What could I say? She was absolutely right.

She extended her hand, but not to shake. “I need my pager back.”

I pulled the iron-encased device from my pocket but hesitated before relinquishing it. “You have every right to feel the way you do,” I said. “I screwed up. Badly. All I can say is that it will never happen again.”

“The pager,” she repeated.

I wanted to add that I would help her wherever and whenever she needed me. All she had to do was ask. But I knew my words would change nothing. I set the pager in her palm.

“I’ll call you a cab,” she said.

I remembered how vulnerable Vega had looked after I’d patched up her bullet wound, how I’d kissed her cheek. It was the first time I had considered her a friend, someone I cared about. “Ricki, I…”

“I’d prefer it if you waited outside.”

40

I returned to my West Village apartment just before seven a.m. Instead of opening my door, I paused to lean against it, my blood-stained jacket over my cane arm, a heavy shroud over my heart. In the last twelve hours we had prevented a gang war, stopped a homicidal creature, saved a young woman, and seen the safe return of Vega’s son. For all intents and purposes we had won.

And yet I felt like a colossal failure.

I had lost Caroline to the fae. I had lost Vega to her own good judgment. And I had played into Arnaud’s hands somehow—I was sure of it. I was also sure that nothing good would come of the last.

I sighed and inserted the key into the top bolt and twisted. Already unlocked. My heart sped up. Ditto the other two bolts. I thought back. My last visit to the apartment had been a frantic race to collect some items before Moretti’s men arrived. Had I forgotten to lock the door? No, more likely Moretti’s men had picked the locks when they’d come looking for me.

But my wizard’s intuition was telling me different.

I dropped my jacket and drew my cane apart, my chest hot and aching around the bullet wound. I rechecked the wards before opening the door.

The apartment was dark, the drapes drawn across the tall windows. I knew I hadn’t done that. I scanned the sitting area, looking for Tabitha’s glowing green eyes. Instead, I found a silhouette of the back of a head in my reading chair.

“You’ve had quite the night,” the intruder said.

I turned on the flood lights. A white mane of hair glowed into view at the same moment I inhaled an odor of leather and musk.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “How did you get in?”

“You invited me,” Arnaud replied calmly.

“Invited you? What in the hell are you talking about?”

I rounded the chair, staff and sword held out, until the vampire Arnaud waxed into full view. He wore a black cape over his stylish suit, one knee crossed over the other. On the right armrest, he held a glass of Scotch. Arnaud grinned as he gave the drink a light swirl.

“Yes, yesterday,” he said. “I asked if you would prefer to meet at your place the next time, and you assented.”

I tightened and then relaxed my grip on my weapons. The vampire had baited me into issuing an invitation, one that would temper my wards. And in the confusion of the opiate mist, I had obliged him, dammit.

“Well, I uninvite you now,” I said. “Get out.”

He chuckled. “The power of invitations doesn’t work that way. You can only prevent me from returning.”

I looked around for Tabitha.

Arnaud followed my gaze. “Your companion didn’t much care for me. We had some words, I’m afraid. My, what a tongue she has.” He waved a hand at my distressed look. “The feline is quite all right. Rather than tolerate my company,