Lure of Song and Magic (14 page)

She returned a wobbly smile and accepted his hand. “If he's a terrorist and the world dies tomorrow, it's on your head,” she retorted, proving she wasn't oblivious to his machinations.

Chapter 19

She was so
stupid
.

Pippa gazed out Oz's wall of windows to the sun setting over the distant surf and wondered if it would be simpler to retreat to her studio and never come out again.

She'd unwittingly put her entire
life
in the hands of a stranger four years ago. And here she was, doing the same again, except now she didn't have the excuse of ignorance. How did she know Conan and Oz weren't planning on pirating her songs and producing them? She didn't.

While Oz had been ordering up dinner, she'd excused herself to wash up. And she'd pried. She'd opened the door to the beautiful nursery with toy truck murals and bright red and blue toys stacked neatly on shelves, untouched for a year. She was trusting a man who wouldn't give up on finding his son despite all odds to the contrary. Oz could be as demented as she was.

Standing at the window, she was still dithering over her next step when strong fingers shoved a beautiful handblown glass of raspberry-scented crushed ice at her. She accepted the delicate stem if only to admire the fragile facets reflecting a rainbow prism from the fading sunlight.

“It's nonalcoholic,” Oz reassured her. “I might pollute your mind but not your stomach.”

She wanted to laugh, but she was too frozen. “I could be contaminating Conan's mind right now,” she said without inflection. “Who knows how many minds I've polluted? Do you really think there's a chance the guy at the computer store would have listened to my files? And that's how someone knows about ‘The Silly Seal Song'?”

“I don't want to believe these messages mean anything except some idiot is conning me into a TV production I want to do anyway.”

Oz sipped from an identical glass, but Pippa was fairly certain his drink of choice wasn't a virgin daiquiri. Wearing a long-sleeved black polo he'd donned earlier, he stood with feet apart, looking like a captain in charge of a ship.

He practically commanded an empire. She wanted to believe he had the power to protect everyone around him. Which was patently ridiculous, since he'd lost both son and wife.

Which meant she was on her own, as always. It was a lonely place to be, and she wished it could be different.

“A show I
don't
want to do,” she reminded him. “So who is setting up whom? I think I'd rather believe some kid has your number and is texting inanities to annoy you.”

“Santa Domenica certainly seems to be a wash,” he agreed, standing close enough that she could inhale his musky scent. “But giving me your name wasn't. Even if the Librarian is batting fifty-fifty, I can't ignore any clue. I have tomorrow free. Want to drive out there?”

“To Santa Domenica?” she asked in surprise. “We've already established there's nothing there. Even if your son was, how would we find him? Go door to door?”

“I don't know.” He lifted his big shoulders and took a drink. “I just hate doing nothing while Conan is playing with his box of tricks.”

His phone buzzed again. Hoping it was Conan with the answer to all their questions, Pippa sipped her drink while Oz checked his message. Supper had been lovely and elegant. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed the delicately balanced flavors of fine dining. Her own poor efforts could scarcely compare.

Oz swore viciously and fluently and showed her the phone.

The message on the screen read
Urgent
. Nothing more.

Her heart threatened to climb up her throat, but she was still paralyzed. “What does it
mean
?”

“It means I'm heading to Santa Domenica. It's all I have. That could have been Donal wandering in the road today. I can't take chances if he might be in trouble. You can stay here if you like, or I'll call a driver to take you home.” Oz looked at her with regret.

His chocolate eyes held warmth that melted her icy shield in ways she shouldn't allow. Pippa knew what he'd hoped to do with the evening. She was guilty of similar thoughts. Her body was already humming with anticipation, wondering what his bedroom was like and if they could get any better than last night.

But now their minds were elsewhere, on an urgent message from the desert. It wouldn't be the same.

“I'll go with you. I couldn't sleep otherwise.” She drained her glass and set it on a coaster. The sun had slipped into the ocean. They would be driving mountain roads in the dark. “I'll need a sweater. Should you call your brother?”

Oz leaned over and kissed her, a kiss of appreciation as well as desire. Pippa's knees, and her resistance, weakened. She didn't want to go to the desert. She wanted to try his bed.

The desert was undoubtedly safer.

Oz talked to Conan while disappearing into the depths of the house to retrieve warmer clothing. Pippa listened to the classical music pouring soothingly from his stereo and wondered if she should take up an instrument. Perhaps a violin. Could she create havoc with a violin?

Not if she didn't know how to play it, she decided with amusement. Oz returned with an overlarge hoodie as she was smiling at her own fantasy, and he stroked her cheek after she took the giant pullover from him.

“Your smile lights the room. You should use it more often.” He shrugged into a black jacket with elastic bands at the wrist and waist and zipped it up.

The hoodie fell to midthigh, and Pippa had to roll the sleeves up a dozen times to find her hands, but the bulk made her feel safe. “I smile at the kids all the time. It's adults I avoid.”

“Make the world go away?” He caught her elbow and steered her toward the door. “You've been granted the talent to create joy. In a world of woe, you can provide hope. You're being selfish by denying your audience as well as yourself.”

“Well, aren't we full of sermons?” she asked edgily, jerking away from him. “If I could also lead people off a cliff like lemmings, would you encourage me?”

“Could I choose the audience?” He took her arm again as the elevator opened in the basement garage.

Imagining what audience he would choose to leap off a cliff ought to make her laugh, but she was too nervous. “I don't know why I try arguing with you. I should recognize genius and bow before it.” Pippa shook her head in dismay as they walked out of the elevator and he unlocked a sedate black Mercedes. “A truck, a sports car, and a sedan. Do you own a plane and a train as well?”

“Not yet. Haven't the time. But I can always call my rescue team if I need them.” He held the door and assisted her inside.

She heard the mirth in his voice. He was being obnoxious to distract her, and it was working. Not that she needed a great deal more distraction once he slid into the leather seat beside her. His presence filled the dark car as he turned on the ignition and the dash illuminated.

“Has Conan found anything yet?” She tried to remember why she was here. It wasn't easy. Her gaze followed Oz's strong hands as he expertly swung the big car out of the tiny space and into the night.

“He has some software running on your computer's innards, so he's been hunting your computer store while he waits. It's moved a block or two from the original location and isn't open tonight. If he finds anything suspicious about the owner or management, he'll find a way in, but it's a long shot.”

“Thank goodness I keep my financial information on the other computer,” she murmured, looking for positives. “I don't think anyone could tie me directly to the songs on that drive. Maybe anyone hearing them will just assume I'm downloading from the Internet.”

They were both avoiding talking about the Librarian's urgent message. Pippa could feel Oz's tension in the way he held his shoulders and steered the car. He hit the accelerator once they were on the freeway. The car shifted smoothly into high gear and purred past traffic.

There was nothing to be said about a meaningless message from nowhere. They were both keyed up and overreacting. But anything was better than doing nothing and wondering what they'd missed.

“Someone has connected the seal song and Syrene,” he reminded her. “What I want to know is how they're related to Donal.”

“And Santa Domenica. Are we driving into a trap?”

Oz smacked the wheel with his fist to vent his frustration. “I can't see how. So far, the Librarian has just provided information. You may feel threatened, but it's all been good for me.”

Pippa sat silently and pondered that. He didn't regret finding her, didn't mind that she'd dragged in the town of El Padre and tortured him with hysterics?

“You are a single-minded man,” she decided.

He laughed curtly. “That's a polite way of calling me an obnoxious bully. Dinner must have mellowed you.”

“Or being out in the world again is going to my head. Be ready to box me in if I lose control. I can't always know when it's happening.”

“Good topic. We've got over an hour's drive ahead. Let's explore your limits. What does it take to stop you once you—what was it you called it? The Beast? Once the Beast escapes?”

His deep baritone expressed no more than curiosity. She didn't hear mocking or doubt. His logical approach made more sense than her emotional reactions.

“No one has tested my limits,” Pippa admitted. “If I'm sad, crying will ultimately choke me into silence. You've shut me up by tossing me in a pool.” She ignored his chuckle. “When people respond oddly to what I'm saying, I'll notice after a while and shut up. Keeping my mouth closed works best, but I'm not naturally mute.”

“I noticed,” he replied with humor. “I like knowing where I stand, so I appreciate your willingness to let me know. You realize you've had nine years to explore your self-restraint, and that without unpredictable teenage hormones to mess with your mind, you may be able to manage better now?”

“Providing I'm not PMSing?” she asked. “That's just your weird ability to be unaffected talking. You wouldn't say that if I knocked you over like I did the drunk earlier. Yes, I've practiced control. No, it doesn't always work.”

She stared into the starry heavens above the hill ahead and tried to imagine a day when she could converse normally without fearing anything she said would cause people to turn against her or one another. One person at a time, and she might manage. An entire TV production? No way.

“Then we can stop the car on Main Street, Santa Domenica, let you out, and you can bring everyone running just by shouting?” he asked, prodding her sore points.

“I could sing a siren song and open every door in town, unless there are more like you. But if there's a villain of some sort out there, do you really want to lure him out in the street with the innocents?”

The angles of Oz's face were shadowed as he glanced in her direction. “Setting aside the impossibility of that feat, what's the reverse? If a villain appears and you have a shrieking fit in the center of Main Street and people are writhing in agony, do I have to throw you in a pool to shut you up?”

“Trying to disarm my Voice?” she asked in amusement. “To my knowledge, you're the only one who has ever succeeded. Once I lose control, I have no idea how to stop on my own. It's probably the reason I'm here. With you, I don't have to watch every sound I make.”

Without Oz, she could shriek a man into suicide, with no way of stopping herself.

Scary, terrifying thought. They both stared out at the ribbon of highway ahead. Maybe now he understood.

She was a walking, talking time bomb.

Chapter 20

It was past ten o'clock by the time the Mercedes cruised the silent main drag of Santa Domenica, if a huddled group of aging buildings constituted a town. Pippa had been close to the truth, Oz acknowledged. The town had a gas station with an all-night mini-mart, a few deserted storefronts, a scattering of battered wooden shacks, a cluster of rusted-out mobile homes, and a pack of starving dogs running the street. A tumbleweed rolled after them.

“Now what?” his companion asked in a whisper, gazing at their dismal surroundings with the same dismay as him.

Pippa had tolerated his prying questions with remarkable good humor for the past hour or more. Oz assumed that just being able to talk freely of a secret she'd locked away for a decade had oiled hinges and opened doors. She was likely to slam them again any moment, but he had the keys now.

What worried him was this miserable excuse for a town. What if Donal was being kept here? Putting stark reality to his nightmares ate at his gut.

The Mercedes was conspicuous. Anyone watching would notice them. Oz pulled up at the gas station, trying to look innocuous. He wasn't certain he wanted gas polluted with sand in his expensive machine, but he needed time to think.

“I could stand on the roof and sing the seal song,” Pippa said facetiously.

She looked too terrified to set foot outside the car. Even without her handicap—and he was starting to believe there was
something
compelling about her voice—he couldn't blame her. Desert rats were often armed and dangerous.

“I think the best we can do is be seen,” he told her. “Maybe the Librarian will send us a text. I'm hoping we'll get to meet him.” Oz climbed out and examined the rusting gas meter. It didn't take credit cards. He'd have to give the clerk cash. He leaned back in the car. “I have to go inside. Want to come with me or stay here?”

She hesitated and then opened her door. “Come with you.”

She didn't explain, but Oz was relieved that she'd agreed. He was fairly confident that she could take care of herself, but he liked the idea that she trusted his strength more than her own. He'd examine that notion at some better time.

He locked the car doors and, with his hand at her slender waist, led them inside. In the bulky hoodie, she didn't look quite so frail. In the fluorescent interior, a scruffy teen watched them from behind a cage at the register as Pippa headed for the bottled water and Oz poured coffee. Without standing in the street and shouting as she'd suggested, he didn't know how else to let the Librarian know that they'd arrived. Provided that's what the note had meant.

He handed cash over to the clerk and told him he needed twenty dollars in fuel. He wasn't polluting his gas tank more than that.

“Don't look now, but there's someone at the corner of the building,” Pippa murmured as they returned to the desert darkness, standing in the doorway with drinks in hand. “And there's a man coming out of the restroom.”

Oz nodded and led her across the lot, senses on full alert. Opening the passenger door, he helped her in. She sat sideways, not letting him close the door. He wasn't too worried about taking on men with fists, but if they had guns, that was another matter. He'd rather she was inside. Pippa shot him a look as if she knew what was running through his mind, so he didn't argue. He hoped she could run fast. Or that her screams were as effective as she claimed.

The gangs in this area were notorious.

The man emerging behind them headed toward a nondescript Ford parked in the shadows on the side of the station. He stopped to light a cigarette. Oz stuck the nozzle in the gas tank and watched from the corner of his eye. He suspected the other man was doing the same thing, sizing him up.

If nothing else, the Mercedes was a tempting target. He should have stayed with the pickup, but the backseat was small, and he'd hoped… Damn, he should never hope.

It had been a long time since he'd had to face thugs. Unless Donal was involved, he didn't want to face this one now. It was too dangerous to the woman he was doing a damned poor job of protecting.

Oz straightened and stretched, letting the other man know he wasn't precisely a pushover. If there was only one thug, he'd slink away. Cowards preferred easy prey.

Pippa began humming.

Oz had no idea what the song was. He didn't even hear any emotion behind it. She was simply humming some pleasant tune that might make him smile if he wasn't so wary of his surroundings. Did she think the sound would carry across a parking lot?

Could he believe her humming was the reason the stranger climbed in his car and started the engine? Probably not. But if it made her feel better to think she helped, that was fine with him. The more confident she was of handling her surroundings, the more likely it was that he could talk her into the show.

Now, if only he could figure out why the hell they were here…

He kept an eye on the Ford as it turned onto the street and drove east, out of sight.

He'd almost forgotten the unobtrusive shadow Pippa had pointed out at the corner of the store. The figure had completely blended with the darkness, making no overt moves that he'd noticed. Hiding from the guy in the Ford?

It seemed so. Haltingly, a woman in a long, loose skirt stepped into the parking lot light, leaning on a cane.

The gas tank clicked off, and Oz returned the hose to the pump while Pippa's humming changed in a way he didn't quite grasp. If her voice was as magical as she claimed, he was definitely immune to it. He just knew the pattern of the notes changed.

And the woman stepped more boldly onto the pavement, crossing the lot in their direction with eagerness. Her stride was still halting. She was slender to the point of frail, even more so than Pippa, but the full skirt and loose blouse disguised the fact fairly well. Unstyled and pinned in a twist, her light hair captured the overhead glow as she approached. She wasn't tall but carried herself as if she were.

She halted some feet away from the car, leaned on the cane, and just stared, drinking them in as if they were an oasis in the desert or space aliens she'd long awaited. Her slender fingers lifted to cover her mouth, and Oz could swear she had tears in her eyes.

Nervously, he wondered if he ought to usher Pippa into the car and take off, but he was hoping the Librarian had sent them here for a reason. Could this be a messenger?

Pippa's humming stopped. The woman seemed to shake off her trance. Taking a deep breath, she limped forward. “Did the Librarian send you?” she asked in a voice of cool assurance.

At
last!
Oz nearly whooped his joy. “He did,” he said, coming around the car so he could catch her if she decided to flee. Not that she would get far with that limping gait.

“She,” the woman responded. “The Librarian is female, I'm pretty certain.”

Well, shit. The Librarian had dragged him out here to rescue another female? A female librarian. A loony one. Trying not to reveal his disappointment that Donal wasn't here, he waited for her to continue.

“I'm…” She hesitated, and Oz knew she was about to lie. “I'm Jean Wainwright. I'm in a bit of a predicament. I know this sounds very odd, but could you give me a lift out of here?”

At Pippa's demanding look, Oz opened the rear passenger door and assisted the woman into the seat. He was officially insane. This could be some elaborate scheme for killing him in the desert and leaving his bones to bleach in the sun. He'd heard of worse.

He was
trusting
Pippa's instincts, which made his insanity even worse. He'd never trusted a woman in his life. Alys had come close, but he'd been young then. Alys had ended his ability to trust anyone to any extent.

But he was letting a lying stranger into his car as if it was a perfectly normal thing to do.

“I'm Dylan Oswin,” he said gruffly, as she settled her skirts into the leather seat. He deliberately didn't introduce Pippa. Let her choose her own lie.

“Mr. Oswin, I'm so far beyond grateful that I cannot express it. I only hope I can return the favor someday.” Her voice was low and articulate, suitable for a faculty meeting in any college in the country.

“People have helped me in the past,” he replied. “I believe in passing it on. Do you have a vehicle here we need to lock up?”

“No,” she said firmly, without the lie in her voice. “I had a driver, but he was an illegal and didn't feel safe. He abandoned me here.”

He nodded curtly, closed the door, and strode around the car, suddenly eager to get the hell out of this hole. He hated mysteries for a reason. He wanted this one solved.

Pippa introduced herself as Pippa James as he buckled in. Their new passenger murmured a pleasantry in return. Did he imagine it, or was there a hitch in the woman's voice? He was attuned to nuances, but he preferred seeing faces before jumping to conclusions. Pulling from the station, he checked the rearview mirror, but their passenger had settled into a pool of shadow.

“Where can we take you?” Oz asked, turning the car toward L.A. He tried not to acknowledge his overwhelming disappointment at not finding Donal here. Or any clue to his son's whereabouts.

“Since my credit card has been stolen, you'd probably best drop me at a homeless shelter,” Jean Wainwright suggested. “That would be safest.”

Pippa cried out in immediate opposition. Oz thought Jean's suggestion more sensible than anything Pippa was about to say, but it was quite possible the woman had only said it to attract sympathy. He had to be suspicious for both of them, apparently.

“We should go to the police,” Pippa said indignantly. “Who stole it? Your driver? They'll catch him. And then we'll find you a place to stay.”

“I've already reported the theft to the credit card people, dear,” Jean said gently. “I can't believe anyone is still looking for me after all these years, so I'm hoping that's all it was, petty theft. But it's always best to expect the worst. I don't believe the Librarian brought me back to the States to cause either of us harm. I think I'm supposed to explain what little I know.”

That silenced Pippa, Oz observed. Trying not to hope that this woman might have the clues he sought, he checked the rearview again and spoke in Pippa's place. “We'll find a Denny's open if you'd like a bite to eat while we talk.”

“I wish I could say I might be helpful, but the Librarian is very vague about what's happening. She simply asked me to return to Bakersfield.”

Oz mentally reviewed his entire repertoire of curses but refrained from frightening the women with his opinion of the damned vague Librarian. The winding desert road was empty. If there were cops ahead, he'd suffer the consequences. He wanted to know where his son was, and the sooner, the better. He hit the gas.

“Does this have to do with Oz's son?” Pippa asked quietly.

He darted her a look to be certain she was okay. She was modulating her voice again, keeping it low and even. But her hands were twisting restlessly in her lap. She'd warned him that her pent-up emotion could explode without warning. But she was apparently wary of revealing anything to strangers. He wished he knew how his easy life had become mixed up in this craziness.

He clenched the steering wheel and waited for their passenger to form her careful reply. He didn't trust her further than he could see her, but if his son's life was in her hands…

“I think I may know something about the kidnapping,” Jean finally replied. “But you'll have to understand that I don't have the answers, that I'm as much a victim as you.”

“How are we involved?” Oz demanded, his attention fully focused at the word
kidnapping
.

The woman waited a long time before replying. “I don't know how much to tell you,” she admitted. “I hadn't expected to ever meet you. And I'm afraid that the more you know, the more dangerous it will be.”

Shit.
Oz slammed down the accelerator, and the Mercedes flew down the dark road.