Women of the Otherworld 10.5 - Counterfeit Magic Read Free Page B

already employed by the Moreau Cabal. When confronted, he claimed the Moreaus had blackmailed him into working for them, and he had proof.
     
    In the past, Benicio would have returned the shaman to the Moreaus to avoid straining international relationships. But now he had to prove to Lucas that the Cortez Cabal could become the kind of organization he’d be comfortable leading, and that didn’t include handing over innocent supernaturals to be imprisoned and possibly killed.
     
    “My advice was to negotiate with the Moreaus ,” I said. “Give them an choice. Take the shaman back on a one-year contract, promising no mistreatment. Or give him to the Cortezes and accept a finder’s fee for training him.”
     
    “Good idea,” Lucas said after finishing a bite of salmon. “Excellent, actually. I’d have been inclined to confront them with proof of blackmail and force them to drop the matter. Your solution is far more elegant.”
     
    “Thank you.”
     
    “My father agreed, I presume.”
     
    “He did.”
     
    He speared a baby potato, gaze on his plate. “And he had the backing of the board?”
     
    When I didn’t answer, Lucas’s shoulders drooped. A faint reaction, but noticeable, like the lines beside his mouth that seemed to deepen every time this happened.
     
    “Who argued it?”
     
    “Carlos. Or, I should say, several of the VPs disagreed and subtly conveyed their opinion to Carlos, who voiced it.”
     
    “I suppose I should be glad he’s showing up for meetings.”
     
    “And showing up sober.”
     
    Lucas tried for a smile. The fact was , he’d be a whole lot happier if Carlos did still show up drunk or high. At least then he wouldn’t be a threat. But on his brothers’ deaths, Carlos had seen an opportunity to seize his birthright, which to him meant seizing all the power—and money—he could. Unfortunately, he was finding supporters in everyone who opposed Lucas and was pleased to have a straw man they could put forward in his place.
     
    We ate in silence for a few minutes, then Lucas said, “I know those meetings couldn’t have been easy. Do you want to talk about it?”
     
    “I survived.”
     
    “Naturally, but I really think we should talk—”
     
    “Tell me about your trip.”
     
    When he hesitated, I thought I saw that sadness flash in his eyes again. Frustration, I decided. He didn’t like the situation, and having me dwell on it wasn’t going to help.
     
    “Please,” I said.
     
    Another hesitation, then he nodded. “The trial went well. Nothing unexpected, although there was a minor glitch when the client’s nerve wore thin and he began thinking perhaps he should admit to having set the fire, albeit accidentally…”
     
    * * * *
     
    We had a good night. Didn’t get much sleep, but it wouldn’t have been nearly so good a night if we had.
     
    We got to work at nine, late for us. Lucas caught a ride in with me, which is rare—he usually rides his motorcycle, knowing one or both of us will be zipping off at some point during the day and two vehicles would likely be needed. We used to do most of the legwork together, but lately, well, lately it just seems more efficient to divide our resources.
     
    Savannah drove in separately—on her bike. She has no excuse, spending most of her time in the office, but she likes her independence. In some things, at least.
     
    I’d texted Adam to say there would be a meeting at nine, and we met up with him and Savannah in the stairwell.
     
    “So we’re taking the Cookson case?” Adam said. “Time to divvy up duties?”
     
    “It is,” I said as we moved into the meeting room. “We have two avenues to investigate—”
     
    “I called dibs on the fight club.” He glanced at Savannah. “Sorry, we did.”
     
    Lucas took a seat. “Actually, Paige and I are going to take that angle.”
     
    Savannah sputtered a laugh. “Yeah, I know you can fight, Lucas. But seriously? Those guys will make you the minute you show