Rhys slammed her against the fence hard enough to knock her wind out again, and this time her body said to hell with what the demon wanted, it had had enough, and she leaned against the wood, panting, sweat dripping into her open mouth, eyelids fluttering, legs trembling with exhaustion.

"Good," Rhys said. "Now let me talk to Hope."

"What the hell are you? An exorcist?"

A humor-free chuckle. "If I have to be."

He flipped her around to face him, pinned her by the shoulders, then leaned down toward her face.

"I know you can hear me, Hope."

"Of course I can. You're spitting in my face."

He inched back and lifted his chin before continuing. "I know it feels good, letting the demon take over. But I need you to take control. You're getting hurt – "

"Because you keep throwing me around. Hello? I'm in control. No head spinning, see? I could manage projectile vomiting, though, if it'd make you feel better."

"So you're back?"

"I never went anywhere. I control her; she doesn't control me."

"Her?"

Hope flashed the image of Karl for the demon. Karl in trouble. It was like being seven again, telling her mom about the riding instructor who liked to caress her rear as he boosted her onto the horse. Like her mom, the demon went wild, protective instinct kicking in full steam. The snarling, teeth-gnashing dervish returned, thrashing until the bite of the handcuff strap knocked her sober.

"There." She flicked her head to toss sweat-sodden hair out of her eyes. "If you'd like a better demonstration, just undo this strap." She flashed her teeth then, a warning smile, pure Karl, another lesson assimilated and never used until now.

Rhys blinked and eased back. "So it can be controlled." His lips moved. It took a moment for her to recognize the expression as a smile. "I was right."

"Yes, apparently – " Hope nailed him in the shin with a satisfying crack. " – you were."

He staggered back, wincing.

"Now cut this strap and walk away or – "

"I'm on your side, Hope."

Another classic fight line. Her laugh came harsh. "Of course, you are. That Cabal SWAT team attack? Total misunderstanding."

"Yes, it was the Cabal. Which means, I had nothing to do with it."

"Because you couldn't possibly be working for the Nasts." She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes. "You set us up. Friday night, when we went by to check out Irving Nast's place, you were there. You followed us, then you set Grant Gilchrist on our trail. You were trying to find Adele for Irving and didn't want us getting to her first."

Hope expected him to say he'd been at Irving's place for the same reason they'd been – scoping it out. An equally plausible excuse. But after a moment, he scooped up his ball cap, pulled it on and said, "Yes, that's how I found you were involved and, yes, I was hired by Irving Nast to find Adele. But I'm not a Cabal employee. I'm an independent contractor."

"A mercenary."

"Not the word I'd choose."

"You don't like it? Well, I don't like being tied up. So how about you let me go and I'll promise never to call you that again."

"Yes, Irving Nast hired me. He thought that was clever – getting one clairvoyant to find another. I was making sure he didn't get her. A Cabal rips the soul from a clairvoyant."

"Considering who we're talking about – killer of cops and celebutantes and innocent bystanders – I'm not convinced a little soul ripping isn't in order. And, no, that isn't the demon talking."

"Adele is… broken."

"That's one way of putting it."

His gaze flicked away, her flippancy unappreciated.

"You've got me, okay?" she said, toning it down a notch. "I surrender. Now take me to the Nasts."

"You don't believe me."

"I want to go – "

"Marsten's fine, Hope. The Cabal wouldn't touch a Pack werewolf, and unless Grant was wrong, that's what Marsten is, and the Cabal knows it. If they wanted him dead, they'd have shot him. They just tranquilized him, neutralizing the biggest threat first."

"Fine, so take me – "

"I can't do that when I'd be in as much trouble as you. And they don't want me going back. Don't you get it? This is a set-up. Do you think letting us escape the front door was an oversight?"

"No, it's proof that you're working for them. They let you go so you could get me out and pretend to have rescued me."

He rocked back on his heels. "What are my vibes telling you? Anything negative there, besides frustration? Anything to suggest I'm lying?"

"As a mercenary – hired gun, hired spy, hired con artist, whatever – you're a professional liar." She met his gaze. "Right?"

He tugged his cap brim, as if adjusting it, a subconscious attempt to pull back under its shadows. A man who preferred the security of anonymity.

"A professional liar can outwit an Expisco," Hope said.

"Not if you were properly trained."

How much did he know about Expiscos? This was the second time his words suggested she wasn't the first one he'd met. The demon jumped to attention, straining forward with questions. Hope hauled it in and muzzled it.

"What possible reason would I have to fake-rescue you?" Rhys said. "To lead me to Adele? You have no idea where she is."

"Okay, then. I'm useless. So let me go."

"You aren't useless to me. I brought one operative on this mission, and your boyfriend killed him. I need help, and I have a feeling you're going to be a lot more useful on this mission than Grant."

"What mission?"

"You haven't asked why the Cabal let me escape that hotel room. What does Irving want?"

This wasn't the time for a pop quiz. But as Hope squirmed, she could tell she wasn't getting out of these strap cuffs until he let her. "You know where Adele is. Irving has figured out you're not handing her over. He thinks if he swoops down on us and you escape, you'll run off to warn her. Lead him to her. That's why he had one of his men suggest they know where she is."

"Suggest?" Rhys laughed. "That was one of the most obvious tricks I've seen. There's a reason Irving hasn't shot through the Cabal ranks."

He took a penknife from his pocket and flicked it open.

"Your hands," he said.

"I'd like to keep them."

"And you aren't going to if you keep yanking at that strap, digging it in deeper." He flipped Hope around and sliced off the cuffs. "Now we need to get that cleaned up. I have a first-aid kit in my car. Then we're going to the kumpania." Seeing her expression, he shook his head. "You don't even know what that is, do you? Remember what I said about being in over your head? The kumpania is where we'll find Adele."

"But that's exactly – "

" – what Irving wants me to do? Yes."

"I'm not helping the girl who – "

"I'm not warning Adele. I'm warning Neala." Again, he saw her confusion. "Colm's mother."

"Your wife."

He shook his head, gazed down as he returned the knife to his pocket. "Not for a very long time. But she saved my life once. I owe her."

"So you're going to warn her about the Cabal."

"And, more immediately, about Adele. Which she already suspected. I just didn't listen. She tried – "

He broke off, shaking his head and prodding her along the fence line.

Hope dug in. "Whatever problem you have, it's your problem. Mine is Karl and Robyn. I don't even know where Robyn is – "

"Picked up by the Cabal, I'm sure. You want them back from the Cabal SWAT team, and I want to get to the kumpania without that SWAT team on my tail. The two goals, I think you'll agree, are not mutually exclusive." He took her elbow. "Come on."