No Rest for the Witches Read Online Free Page B

one questioning eyebrow, she added, “It’s going to take him time to recover his strength, and he’ll need to eat steadily to replace whatever he lost with all the blood, but he’ll live.”
    Joel got to his feet as relief replaced Silas’s silent question. “It was my fault.”
    â€œNo, it wasn’t,” Silas countered.
    Naomi’s fingers clenched. “It was someone’s .”
    Silas’s gaze pinned on her.
    She ignored it. “Someone dropped the ball up there,” she said, staring at Joel. He blanched, face twisted in a mire of guilt and anger. She didn’t care.
    Someone had fucked up.
    Someone had nearly gotten Phin killed. Had gotten Lillian taken.
    Joel stared at his fists, clenched in front of him. “We’d gone out to locate a couple of our contacts. Mr. Clarke wanted to come this time—”
    â€œWhat the fuck was the point?”
    â€œWest,” Silas snapped. He crossed the small bedroom, stepping over a small pile of stacked wooden boxes lacquered with pretty designs. Junk, all of it junk. And she was surrounded by it.
    She spun as his fingers closed on her shoulder, disengaging as smoothly as if he’d never even touched her. Her chest heaved with every breath, and with mounting horror, she realized the pounding rhythm of her own heart wasn’t all from anger. Her lungs constricted.
    Another panic attack. An echo of the hysteria she’d suffered before leaving the Mission. And she’d be damned if she lost her shit in front of either of them. Her chest closed, fighting for air.
    â€œNo,” Joel said, shaking his head. “She’s right. I dropped the ball. Miss West, I’m so sorry. I met Mr. Clarke at the usual rendezvous. Everything seemed all right, but when we drove in—” His voice broke.
    â€œTake it easy,” Silas rumbled.
    â€œA big black van was parked right outside the condo,” Joel said tightly. “They forced Mrs. Clarke inside, and next thing I knew, Mr. Clarke jumped out. Charged them.”
    Oh, God. The idiot .
    â€œI didn’t check the alarm,” Joel said, tormented gaze settling on Naomi. Pleading with her. “I always check the alarm, but I . . . I didn’t, this time. I didn’t realize Mrs. Clarke had flipped it. I got careless.”
    Her shoulders rigid, she opened her mouth to let fly all the pent up anxiety, the panic she’d been carrying since Jessie had dropped into that vision; to sink her blame, unfair as she knew it was, into Joel’s grave, guilt-ridden face.
    And then hesitated.
    Shitfuck . What was this going to do?
    She closed her eyes, swallowed back every poisonous barb. “Get out,” she whispered.
    She didn’t dare look at Joel. Didn’t even look at Silas as she heard footsteps cross the room, navigating the pre-quake furniture and junk. The door creaked open, paused. “I’m sorry,” Joel whispered again, and the door closed.
    Her knees trembled. She fisted her hands tightly against her stomach.
    â€œWhat is wrong with you?”
    It didn’t surprise her that Silas didn’t go. She’d never been able to order him around, at least not outside the line of duty. Duty they didn’t have any more. She raked shaking fingers through her shaggy hair, yanking it back from her face. “I don’t know.”
    She opened her eyes as Silas caught her arm, glaring at it as if she could break his fingers with the force of her stare. He pulled her away from the bed and its sleeping occupant. “Bullshit.”
    She’d clearly touched a nerve. She jerked her arm free.
    He slashed a hand in the air, cutting her off. “Save the attitude, West. That man is a fucking civilian . What do you expect him to do against missionaries like you?”
    Nothing. She knew that. Every word slapped her in the face, and she half-turned to stare at Phin. To take him in, memorize every sleeping line of