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M y outhouse landed with a thunk. I sighed with relief at the familiar sound of wood on cement. Thankfully, the landing grid in the hangar of the WTF consisted of twelve by twelve concrete squares embedded with special wiring and neodymium magnets to attract our vessels to the correct spot. The advanced technology prevented me from plopping down in the middle of Camp Delta and causing a national security alert.

The door to my vessel was yanked open. I blinked rapidly as the bright fluorescent lights from the hangar beamed in through the open door.

Jake stood front and center dressed in his normal WTF work uniform of black suit, white dress shirt, and black tie. Two WTF employees lurked behind him, also clad in black suits. The three of them—all sporting short-cropped hair, muscle, and alpha male attitude—looked like the next act in Magic Mike.

Marco joined Jake, and the foursome stared up at me. How did he always beat me back to base?

A wide smile broke out on Marco’s face.

Jake’s shoulders shook as he bit into his bottom lip, trying to contain the laughter he held inside.

The men in black smiled, something I had never seen them do. I glanced over at Toches, then did a double take. The outhouse had changed me back into present day clothes. My Yumi Kim floral summer sundress and Jimmy Choo espadrille cork wedges I’d bought at Nordstrom Rack for seventy percent off were back in place, along with my VS red lacy thong currently strapped across my passenger’s forehead. One eye was covered with the lace and blocked nothing.

Jake stepped up on the platform and moved to stand on the threshold of my outhouse. He slit the door, blocking the view of headquarters with his body, and called for a hood.

Marco’s laughter bellowed from the outer sanctions of the hangar.

“They were much bigger in 1692.” I shrugged.

“What the Sam Hill happened to you two?” Jake’s amusement was replaced with the intense tone of a stern CIA agent. “The rest of your team has returned.”

“Toecheese happened,” I said. Toches groaned at the mention of his name but remained obliviously unconscious.

A smile returned to Jake’s lips at the mention of my nickname for Toches. “Go on.”

“We found him in a tavern, and next thing you know he’s running for his life with fifty angry folks behind him carrying pitchforks. It was right off the pages of Frankenstein. I understand why the monster felt the need to flee.”

“Did he steal something?”

“No.”

Jake hesitated. “Kill someone?”

“No.”

“Why did you capture him?”

“We didn’t exactly capture him. He was hit by a rock, fell, and hit his head on another rock, which knocked him out, so we saved him.”

Jake huffed. “The general isn’t going to like this.”

“If we left him in Salem, another dead witch would be added to the history books.”

“Any other infractions?”

“Not created by me,” I said, mentally thanking Toches. I made it through an entire mission without changing history. If something went askew, it wasn’t my doing.

Jake raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrogate me any further. Knowing Jake, he was saving the good stuff for later. He reached across me and pulled my thong off the brigand’s head. “I liked this one. It was my favorite.”

I jerked it out of his grasp. From his demeanor, I presumed something had him fired up, and it wasn’t that Marco and I came back with a brigand. There was more to his agitated tone.

“Damn, that’s some goose egg.” Jake motioned toward the bright red bump swelling above Toches’s left eyebrow. “He’ll have a humdinger of a headache when he wakes up.”

“Marco has a similar one on his back,” I said.

“Are you injured?” Jake asked, suddenly aware he hadn’t considered my well-being.

“I’m fine. Not even a scratch.”

Someone spoke to Jake. He reached behind him and produced a head cover. Securing it on the unconscious brigand, he opened my door and allowed me to exit my vessel.

I stepped down off the platform and we watched the medics load Toches on a stretcher.

“That’s going to leave an ugly mark. The rock was the size of my fist and the kid had a slingshot that would make David envious and Goliath run for cover,” I said to one of the medics as she gave Toches a sedative.

The drug would keep Toches floating happily in la-la land for a few hours. Enough time to doctor his wound and secure him in a cell. He’d wake up with no idea where he was or how he’d arrived.

If Jake had to release him, Toches would receive another round of the magic cocktail, and one of the transporters would be summoned to deposit him in an undisclosed location.

A beefy security guy followed behind the stretcher as it was wheeled out of the hangar, in case the magic cocktail wasn’t enough to keep Toches down for the count. Marco walked with the medics, giving me a sour look as he exited the hangar.

“Where’s Marco going?” I asked Jake.

“I sent him to the infirmary to have his back examined. He insisted he was all right, but I ordered him to get checked out, anyway.”

Marco hated doctors, medicine, and people prodding him. I knew Jake would insist he see the doctor. Marco might say he was fine, but I imagined the welt on his back told a different story. Telling the boss he’d taken a hit explained Marco’s irritation at me. He’d pay me back later for being a tattletale.

“What was Toches doing in Salem?” Jake asked me after the entourage left the area, minus one expressionless security officer who loomed at the entrance.

“He wanted to see a witch burn,” I answered.

“They didn’t burn witches in Salem.”

“That’s what I told him.”

“You spoke to him?” Jake asked me, an undercurrent of irritation lacing the tone of his question.

“It was more of an interrogation.”

“That’s it?”

“As far as I could tell. He saved a woman accused of witchcraft, but there wasn’t any sign of a key, and I didn’t get any sensations of another traveler among the mob of angry peasants chasing us into the woods.”

Jake paused and arched an eyebrow at me. “Why were they chasing you?”

Oops. I wasn’t going to mention we were seen speaking with Toches in the tavern. “Guilt by association. A girl who couldn’t have been more than twelve accused Toecheese of being a witch, and she might have seen us together at the tavern.”

“Do I even need to ask why you were having a beer with a dangerous brigand?” Jake sighed.

“Um, convenience?” I bit my lower lip. Did I say we had a beer?

“I can’t hold him for saving the woman unless we can prove she’s a brigand. But I’ll have to confirm the changes, if any, he caused to the present.

Jake turned toward me. “Meet me in the blue room. You can debrief after our meeting. The other members of your team are already there.”

I saluted and received one of Jake’s dark-brown puppy-dog eye rolls. Over his shoulder, Marco’s Indy racecar reflected the fluorescent light. The beautiful car stretched catty-corner on the landing pad, its front end inches from the edge.

Each traveler landed on one of the pads directed in by the magnetic force. Jake and his men in black always stood toward the back wall in case the magnetic force failed and the vessel did a skid. This never happened, but it was good to take precautions.

I exited the hangar. The moon cycle began earlier in the countries to the east, allowing Jake to manage several teams in the same moon cycle.

There was a time when the British secret service controlled the travelers outside of the United States, but due to budget cuts or whatever, MI6 handed the reins off to the CIA.

We have an Eastern European unit. Most of the travelers in this unit are assigned to China, Japan, both Koreas, and parts of Vietnam. I can’t be on that team because I flunked Mandarin 101. There were too many symbols for me to wrap my head around and trying to speak Chinese with my Texas drawl gave Jake permanent lines between his eyebrows.

There are no travelers from the Middle East. At least that we know of. If the insurgent, territory-controlling, religious fanatic terrorists from these countries knew we had time travelers…the world would be a different place.

There’s the European unit, which Caiyan used to be a part of after my great-aint Elma died and left him without a transporter. It was the reason the obnoxious Russian criminal, Rogue, was the main brigand he followed.

Most of the travelers were combined now. We still had different teams, but a person could be assigned to any team depending on the languages they mastered and their heritage.

The Russians, as the WTF called them because two of the five travelers were from Russia, were made up of the two Russians, a beautiful Polish girl, and our newest traveler, Campy.

I walked to the blue room, stopping off at the ladies’ room to pee. Using a toilet instead of urinating in the woods was top priority. I searched my locker for an extra pair of panties. It icked me out to return my thong to its original location since the red lace had contacted Kishin’s drool, but going commando didn’t seem appropriate.

Our conference room at the WTF, aka the blue room, had trippy eighties wallpaper met in the middle by a chair rail. The penny-pinching hand of the government didn’t reach out to the secret agency located in the basement of Gitmo. Interior décor wasn’t top priority. Instead, the funds were spent on soccer fields, satellite TV, and razor wire.

Thanks to Lyndon B. Johnson, the WTF was a super covert agency. The former president founded the top secret organization to help the travelers become an alliance. It also clearly divided the brigands from the righteous.

The camps of Gitmo were worn, and expensive for the government to maintain. The oblivious politicians and their lawyers tried to close the maximum security prison on a consistent basis. Only the top military officials knew of the WTF, because if the politicians knew they had time travelers who could change history, they’d piss themselves trying to overturn election results in their favor.

I entered the blue room. My team was seated around the conference table, inhaling the complimentary donuts. Everyone was present except for Ace, who was routinely late, and Marco. Casual greetings welcomed me as I poured myself a steaming cup of government-grade coffee and sat at my usual place.

“Yo, Jen,” came a mouth-filled hello from Brodie. My cousin Gertie, who also happens to be my roommate, considers Brodie her boyfriend. Thanks to me, the pair has been happily hooking up. Brodie had powdered sugar on the front of his Bob Marley t-shirt, giving Bob a Christmas feel.

I gave Brodie a finger wave and joined the group at the conference table.

“Hey cookie, you mind passing me one of those chocolate covered donut holes? The ones with the sprinkles.”

I snagged a glazed donut hole and popped it in my mouth, then pushed the tray closer to Gerry. He was an irritating defender. At a little over four feet tall, the dwarf had a giant attitude. He specialized in sneaky.

Tina, his transporter, sat beside him. Her dark hair was cut in a cute bob with the right side shaved over her ear. One headphone dangled on her shoulder, the other secured firmly in her ear as her fingers moved with rapid pace over her phone.

With her Asian skin and youthful appearance, sans makeup she could pass for a boy and used this talent to persuade brigands to lower their guard. Once, I asked her why she transported for the obnoxious Gerry instead of being assigned to the Eastern European team, and she told me if she was caught in her homeland she would be executed. Good reason.

“Where’s Marco?” Tina asked, and heads turned in my direction. Apprehensive eyes waited for my reply.

“We picked up Toecheese in Salem and brought him into custody,” I said, and explained Marco’s predicament.

When one of our team members didn’t show up for the meeting, there was concern, but rarely for Marco. It was nice for someone to be concerned about him. The other defenders were a bit miffed he had joined the WTF after years of refusing to be part of the team.

Brodie and Caiyan were tight, and Brodie took Marco with an uneasy lack of trust. Gerry didn’t have an opinion on the matter, and Ace slobbered uncontrollable infatuation when Marco was near.

“Poor guy,” Gerry said. This caught me off guard, because Gerry never had a nice word to say about anyone. “Salem’s a tough time. The guns are shit, and those people can do more damage with words and pitchforks than most outlaws with a fully loaded shotgun.”

“Good job. Toches was due for some cell time,” Brodie said, still somewhat bitter about losing the Thunder key to the brigand in a prior tussle.

A round of congrats followed for our capture. I didn’t want to spoil the goodwill by explaining we had saved Toches.

“Ace and Campy caught a brigand, too. One of the Cracky boys.” Gerry popped another donut hole.

“Campy?” I asked.

“Ace transported for Campy because Fredericka’s on vacation.” Tina answered, not taking her eyes off her phone. “They caught one of the Cracky Clan lifting the original recording of the iconic rock group Queen. The Cracky Clan were trying to steal Bohemian Rhapsody before it made its famous debut and pass it off as their own. Campy and Ace are in a debriefing with General Potts.”

“Wow, Campy’s first capture, impressive.” I washed another donut hole down with a sip of the strong coffee.

“Totally set them up, I did,” Brodie said. “If I didn’t have ta chase Caiyan’s mark, I’d a had them Crackys last travel.”

Brodie and Caiyan were buddies. They were like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. However, Butch Cassidy took a leave of absence and left the kid a mess of brigands to clean up.

Caiyan’s normal mark, Rogue, had been a thorn in my side from day one of my time travel adventure. We chased him, almost caught him once, but he was devious and slippery.

Brodie normally chased the Cracky Clan, three Irish brothers and a couple of female cousins. The Crackys never did much damage. They liked to steal things. I had a sneaky suspicion Brodie and the Crackys drank beer together at the pub during the off cycle.

Jake entered, sat down next to me, and started clicking around on his laptop. He paused and waved a hand in the air. “Give me a second. I need to get some information in the system.”

“Is Campy OK?” I asked him.

“Be here in a minute.” Jake focused on his screen as he answered.

A few minutes later, Ace entered, followed by Campy. A round of fist bumps congratulated Campy on his capture. Ace sat down next to me as Campy circled the room, accepting praise from his peers.

Campy was Caiyan’s nephew, and the resemblance made my heart ache. He had his uncle’s sly grin and quick wit but lacked the manipulation and con skills in which Caiyan excelled. I hoped Campy never found the twisted talents Caiyan perfected, but a seasoned defender needed a few lifesaving skills.

I held my fist up for a bump of congratulations, but Campy leaned down and wrapped his arms around me from behind—despite the rule of no contact between travelers or staff while on base. He squeezed me in one of his warm hugs, and I inhaled his fresh, earthy scent.

“Congrats,” I said. He released me from his bear hug and snagged one of my donut holes. He sat down on the other side of Ace. His green eyes lit up as he leaned in and spoke to me.

“Can ye believe I got him on the first try?” His accent held a blend of Scottish and British. Campy grew up in England with his Scottish mother, Caiyan’s sister. His father was in the wind. He spent some time with their aunt Itty in Florida, but in the last few years, the teen had turned into a handsome man.

I sent him a warm smile.

“You should have seen him,” Ace babbled. “He jumped the brigand like a pro, caught him red-handed, and then took him to the ground.” Ace dabbed at his eyes with the donut napkin.

“Who are you, his mother?” Gerry asked Ace.

“I can be proud of him.”

“Don’t forget who gave you the intel on that one,” Brodie said to Campy.

“I appreciate it, dude,” Campy said.

“Yes, and don’t forget who gave YOU the tip,” Tina said to Brodie, her eyes lifting from her phone for a brief second to make her point.

“Did you hear the news?” Ace paused for attention. “Campy has been moved to our team. The little devil.” Ace gave six foot two Campy a tweak on his dimpled cheek.

I raised an eyebrow at Jake. He stopped typing and huffed. “That was classified, Ace.”

“Oopsy,” Ace said, placing his fingers against his lips. “My bad.”

“What gives? When Caiyan returns we’ll have a large team.” I glanced at Campy, “Not that I don’t want you on our team, but we only have three transporters.” I envisioned having to wait at the WTF until a defender summoned me. Transporting for more than one defender was always a challenge. My goal of being the wingman to my defender was hindered by a transportation issue.

“When are you going to get a clue, cupcake?” Gerry frowned at me. “Your Scottish backstabber has left us high and dry to go work for the bad guys. He’s probably stolen more booty in a moon cycle than I’ll have in a lifetime. He’s rolling in the dough.”

“No, he’s undercover.” I glared at Gerry. “He left for our safety.”

“Yeah, Uncle Cai would never sell us out,” Campy added, and I welcomed the support.

Gerry huffed. “He’s probably told the Mafusos of our secret location and they’re waiting for the right time to infiltrate us.”

“Gerry, put a sock in it, ya wee nit,” Brodie shouted from down the table.

“Are you making fun of my size? I’d like to file a form 436s for discrimination against the vertically challenged.”

Ace huffed. “If anyone’s going to make a report of discrimination, it should be Jen and me.” Ace gestured to me and then to himself. “The way you speak to us…it’s disgusting.”

The brawl escalated from name calling to gestures across the table.

Jake stopped typing. “Enough.”

Gerry shrugged, and Ace stuck his tongue out at the dwarf. Yep, we were one step up from a preschool.

I waited for Jake to say something, anything, to support Caiyan’s decision to leave the WTF.

“Agent McGregor has turned in his badge, and as far as the WTF is concerned is considered a brigand.”

OK, not the words of comfort I wanted. I crossed my arms over my chest.

Jake sighed, “He gave me his word, he would not disclose our location.”

The room grew quiet. Campy dropped his chin to his chest, the celebration of his victory forgotten. Caiyan hadn’t contacted Campy either. The loss took its toll. Caiyan was more of a big brother to Campy than an uncle, and the only male role model he’d ever had in his young life.

Caiyan was the first WTF agent to ever work both sides of the fence. If Jake trusted him to keep his word, so would I. My inner voice began ticking off, on her fingers, all the times he lied to me. When she took off her shoes, I cut our connection.

Jake stood and relayed his laptop to the projection screen via a handheld remote. A world map appeared on the screen with each location of our recent travels marked with a red X.

“As you know, McGregor doesn’t have a key, so if he’s traveling it must be with Mahlia, or the Mafusos are loaning him a key. We’ve been trying to follow him, but so far, we haven’t had any luck.”

I swallowed hard. The sticky situation Caiyan had his fingers in stuck in my throat along with the glazed donut hole.

“Those wanker brigands have us on a wild goose chase,” Brodie said. “We’ve been following the Mafusos, but there’s been no sign of McGregor.”

“I agree,” I said. “We thought we were searching Salem for Mahlia but found Toecheese instead. He told us he wanted to see a witch burn at the stake.”

Campy’s eyes widened like he might also find that cool. I frowned at him and he schooled his face. Shameful.

“They didn’t burn witches—” Gerry started.

“Yep, that’s what we told him.” I ended the sentence for him.

Gerry leaned forward and interlocked his fingers on the table. “Same for us.” He tilted his head Tina’s direction. “We chased that tall, drink of water, Mahlia, to Paris. Thought we were chasing Mortas, but we found her at the Moulin Rouge.”

“You should have seen it, Montmartre in all its glory. Cancan dancers, champagne, and music. Ever since I saw the movie Moulin Rouge, I’ve wanted to see the elephant,” Tina said.

“Girl, I loved that one. I didn’t know Nicole Kidman could sing,” Ace said, and Tina agreed.

“Can’t say I minded the trip, but Mahlia didn’t do anything illegal. Didn’t even seem like she was scouting the place. Just enjoying herself. She had her little brother with her,” Gerry said.

“How is that possible?” I asked Jake. “Toecheese was wearing Mahlia’s key.”

“How do you know?” Gerry arched a suspicious eyebrow at me.

My inner voice held up a flash card of rule # 216b. If you are not arresting a brigand, you cannot violate them by identifying their key.

“Uhm…”

“He lost his cravat in the fall,” Marco’s reply came as he entered the room. “I saw it, too.”

He sat down next to Campy and helped himself to a nutritious bar with lots of good, healthy grains.

“Do you think one of them is wearing the Thunder?” Brodie asked.

We only knew of four keys the Mafusos owned—Mortas’s, Mahlia’s, Caiyan’s, and the Thunder key, which originally belonged to Toches but he refused to wear it because he claimed the key was cursed.

“Knowing Gian-Carlo’s superstitious ways, I doubt he would allow any of his grandchildren to wear it,” Marco said.

“Since Mortas didn’t jump this cycle, my guess would be Mitchell wore the key that belongs to Mortas, and,” Jake paused and turned to meet my curious gaze, “Mahlia was wearing Caiyan’s key.”

My jaw went slack, and Jake continued. “His key showed up on the travel screen after Gerry and Tina jumped. I thought Gian-Carlo was finally allowing him to use his key, but now I believe differently.”

“With the addition of the new grandson who has power, the Mafusos are short a few keys,” Brodie said.

One of Gian-Carlo’s other grandsons came into his power last year. With Toches and Caiyan joining the Mafusos, they were short two keys unless Gian-Carlo was continuing to travel—then they needed three.

Caiyan had traded his key and his vessel to Mitchell in order to save my life; however, Gian-Carlo was quick to confiscate it from Mitchell.

If it was true and Mortas was calling the shots, the WTF might have their hands full trying to figure out who is where. Mortas didn’t exactly play fair.

“Switching keys makes it difficult for us to find them in the past,” Jake said. “We can’t match the travelers with what Pickles sees.”

Pickles was the federation’s only seer, a time traveler with the gift to foresee the travelers’ decisions where they will jump when the portal opens. It was a rare gift and not one I envied.

“We’re not going to know which brigand to scout. It could be any of them,” Marco said.

“Yeah, a live shell game. You can’t tell which shell the pea, or in this case Caiyan, is under,” Tina added.

Gerry gave a snide chuckle, and I mentally flipped him the bird.

I agreed with Tina—if the Mafusos switched keys, they could give Caiyan any of the keys to travel with instead of his own, and we wouldn’t know where to find him. Since Mahlia was the Mafusos only transporter, if they transported him back without a key, it would have to be with Mahlia.

Brodie stroked his small beard. “Rogue doesn’t work with the Mafusos, but he went to the premiere of a Broadway musical. Damn wanker, I had to sit through an entire musical about a bunch of cats. Most disappointing trip of my life.”

Tina and Ace snickered. I tried to contain a laugh, but it escaped through my lips like a motorboat. The image of Brodie watching a musical was priceless. The guy literally turned green when we suggested any outings that included the arts, especially if singing was involved. Unless it included a guitar and a bar.

“I’m betting if they offered Rogue payment in exchange for a random travel, he’d take it,” Marco said. “I’m surprised they were able to track him down.”

If the payment were big enough, Rogue would oblige. A permanent end to Caiyan’s travels would make the stealthy brigand come out of hiding, I assumed, but didn’t share my thoughts. Caiyan was disliked enough at the moment.

“Why do you think they’re doing this?” I asked instead.

“My guess would be to throw us off track.” Jake rubbed his chin as he glanced up at the map displaying the places the brigands went this cycle. “There was no rhyme or reason for the choices they made, and there weren’t any violations to the code.”

“Wasn’t Toches arrested?” Gerry asked.

Jake explained the circumstances surrounding Toches’s ride to the WTF. He was still checking out the girl Toches saved, but he was coming up empty-handed.

I felt Gerry’s criticizing eyes on me for allowing them to think Toches was in custody.

“Where did Mortas go?” Tina asked.

“As far as we know, he didn’t jump this cycle,” Jake responded.

“He would have to wear the Thunder key if he jumped,” Gerry said. “No moron in his right mind would wear that key.”

Caiyan wore that key when he asked me to marry him.

“I’m more concerned about them dumping McGregor in the past and leaving him there.” Jake reflected what I held inside.

“How are we going to find out what Caiyan is trying to steal?” Tina asked. “It has to be something big.”

All eyes looked at me.

“I haven’t seen him.”

“You mean he’s gone all this time without getting any booty?” Gerry asked.

I narrowed my eyes at Gerry. “I told you. I haven’t seen him.”

“Maybe he’s unsatisfied, and he’s getting his tail somewhere else,” Gerry snickered.

I leapt over the table and lashed out at the dwarf, missing him by inches. Marco and Campy were both on their feet.

“Run, run, run, as fast as you can, you can’t catch me, I’m the sneaky little man.” He sang out as he leaned back out of my grasp.

Jake put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Everyone, take your seats!”

“I’m going to get you—you twerp.” I folded myself back into my chair and realized I had donut holes smashed down the front of my sundress. Perfect.

Ace, who had been unusually silent during the scuffle, crossed a knee and sat back filing a hangnail. “If Caiyan wanted us to know, we’d know.”

“What do you mean?” I asked him.

“The Scot never does anything without a reason. We need to wait for his plan to come to fruition, and then we’ll see what he’s up to.”

“What if it’s too late, and the damage has been done. He could ruin all of us.” Gerry’s contemptuous words cut deep.

“Do you think it’s a conspiracy theory?” Brodie asked.

Jake clicked off the projector. “I don’t know what to think. I doubt the Mafusos have plans for world domination, but whatever it is, it’s big.”

“More like traveler domination.” Tina stopped pecking at her phone and gave everyone a fearful stare. “If Caiyan has information on the King’s key, Gerry’s right, we could all be in trouble.”

The King’s key was rumored to be the start of the time travelers. The first key worn by the chief of an ancient tribe.

Silence filled the room. Only Jake’s shuffling through files in his briefcase broke the deadly quiet.

“I have intel on the sword Caiyan took from the museum a few months ago.” Jake plucked a file from his briefcase.

My ears perked up. While Caiyan was under the influence of the Thunder key, he had stolen a Confederate sword from the American Civil War Museum in Appomattox. He told me he was going to trade it to the Mafusos for his key, but then changed his mind. Instead he offered to join them.

Jake placed a yellowed newspaper clipping secured in laminate in front of me. The article was from 1950. The story highlighted the last Civil War veteran in Texas. A man by the name of Sam W. Raney, who had recently passed away at the age of one hundred and three.

“Was this man a traveler?” I asked.

“No,” Jake said.

I read the article further. There was a big to-do in the man’s small hometown following his death. His sword was anonymously donated to the Museum of the Confederacy in Appomattox, Virginia.

Reporters interviewed the man’s seventy-five-year-old son, who reported his pa had given the sword to a friend before his death.

“He was from Franklin county. That’s in Texas, not too far from Aint Elma’s house.”

“I researched the location, but we have no connections to any travelers outside of Elma’s family in the area.”

“Do you think there’s a link to a key?” Tina peered across the table at the clipping, and I scooted it toward her to read.

“There’s something worth looking into here, or McGregor wouldn’t have gone to the trouble to steal it,” Marco said.

“And the Mafusos wouldn’t want it,” Brodie added.

“I can search his apartment.” I felt my face heat as I offered to help. “I’ve—um—got a key.” Technically, it wasn’t breaking and entering if I had a key. “Maybe there’s a clue as to what he did with the sword?”

“It’s possible,” Jake said. “We’ve had eyes on his place, but no sign of him for the last three months coming or going from the building.”

“The bloke probably hid it in his office. I mean, any collector would give their eye teeth to have an actual Civil War sword,” Brodie said.

“Fine. Jen, after Brodie does his recon, I’ll clear you to check the apartment.” Jake stacked his files. “Brodie, search McGregor’s office and his home in Scotland. You three,” he pointed to Marco, Tina, and Gerry, “Keep an eye on the Mafusos. And…everyone, get some rest. I think our next moon cycle might be a busy one. This meeting is adjourned.”

“I’ll arrange a meeting next week with his partner. Maybe he left it in his protection.” Brodie gobbled down the last of the smashed donuts before he stood to leave.

I doubted Caiyan would leave an important clue for the Mafusos to find easily. Knowing Caiyan, it was probably stashed away in an obscure crypt or buried in a graveyard.

When Caiyan was under the influence of the Thunder key, he had given me the key to his apartment and asked me to marry him. The proposal went belly up, but he showed me a side of him I had never seen. One that might want a wife.

I wanted those things eventually, and I thought I wanted them with Caiyan. The possibility of never seeing him again made my heart constrict. We had to find him soon.

Marco fiddled with the leather bracelets on his wrist. I knew he had feelings for me, and I tried not to lead him on. It had been difficult transporting for him and working side by side without any physical contact. The touch that used to spark hot between us died down to a simple simmer. I wanted to be Marco’s friend, not his lover, but a small part of me wondered how it would have been to be with him.