Wildfire

Chapter 40

40. Rupture

The drive to Aiden's house was eventful, to say the least. We were divided into two cars; Marco, Diego and Georgina took Marco's fancy estate car while Lexie and I were forced to hang back in Georgina's beat-up Ford with Slater.

I didn't mind the arrangement as much as everyone else seemed to — well, everyone except Georgina, who practically beamed at Marco when he suggested that Slater go with us instead. She had stopped calling him Stiff and started calling him Bond instead, but I doubted he got the reference.

Diego had refused, point blank, to let me out of his sight, which had annoyed me until Georgina pointed out that Slater was a trained bodyguard and hadn't managed to get her killed just yet. He reluctantly relented after that.

Lexie was having the worst time adjusting, however. She had attempted — twice — to jump out of Georgina's car while it was still moving, until Slater finally pulled the car over and stormed around to her door. He wrenched the door open, pulling a set of cable ties out of his pocket and tying Lexie's hands behind her back. Then he flicked the child lock on for good measure, and climbed back into the car like nothing had happened.

I stared at him, a little alarmed, as he started the engine.

"I can see why Georgina is reluctant to spend time with you," I said.

Slater grinned slyly. "She only wishes I'd tie her up."

"I'm sure." I glanced over my shoulder Lexie. She was slumped in the back seat and staring sullenly out the window. I wasn't surprised that she was having second thoughts about selling Aiden out, but to want to jump out of a moving car? I reached over and touched her knee. "It'll be okay."

"He'll find out," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. It was like she'd withdrawn into herself.

"Maybe," I said, "but he'll be behind bars when he does. Away from you."

She sighed and continued to stare out the window, ignoring me.

I withdrew my hand, glancing at Slater. He was playing with the dials on Georgina's old-style radio, playing with the frequencies. He grinned when he hit something that wasn't static and a jolt of surprise shot through me when I realized it wasn't a radio station he'd tuned into — it was Georgina's voice.

"... you can't take him out, Bond," she was arguing. "I'm the only one certified to haul his ass back to the compound."

"It would take him less than five seconds to subdue you," Marco responded in a clipped voice.

Georgina harrumphed. "Spoken like a true misogynist —"

"On the contrary," Marco interrupted, "I have great faith that many women could accomplish the task, having trained quite a few of them myself. You, however, cannot."

Slater snorted. "Smooth talker, that one."

"How did you do that?" I asked, mentally groaning at the layer of awe that coated my voice.

"I rigged his car while he was using the bathroom," Slater explained, like it was no big deal. "You just have to tweak the radio antenna to broadcast over a demonic platform. I call it Hell FM."

I blinked stupidly. "I can barely put music on my iPod."

"Magic," Lexie chimed in. "He used magic."

"Oh. Thanks." I frowned. "Does that mean you're a witch?"

"Nope."

"Oh, that reminds me —" I looked over my shoulder at Lexie. "What did Georgina mean about all the inmates committing suicide? Why do you need to be supervised?"