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sexuality. He’d seen her coming a mile off, even though he’d been seriously tempted.
    Dad, now . . . Dad knew him well enough to know exactly what bait would have him jumping. Dad would send a Maja who blushed.
    But he’d also sworn to let Logan decide when and where to become a Magus, and he would never break a vow. Dad treated oaths like his heart’s blood—never lightly given.
    Of course, that left Mom, who didn’t break oaths either, but was a hell of a lot more ruthless if she thought something was for Logan’s own good.
    Trouble was, he couldn’t imagine what would inspire his mother to that kind of ruthlessness.
     
     
    Terrence ground his teeth, focusing his binoculars on MacRoy as the chemist worked on disposing of the mortar.
    The mortar that had fucking failed to go off.
    Maybe there’d been something wrong with the mercury switch. He’d tested it three times before he’d installed it in the bomb, and it had passed all three times. Still, something must have gone wrong.
    Thing is, he’d anticipated that possibility and included a fail-safe—the cell phone detonator. He’d called it as he’d watched Logan carry the mortar from the house.
    No boom.
    Hell, the cell hadn’t even beeped. It was as if something had fried the damn thing.
    Furious all over again, Terrence lifted the rifle and drew a bead on MacRoy’s dark head. His finger started to tighten on the trigger . . .
    No. No, dammit. The little fucker wasn’t going to beat him into using the easy way. He was just going to have to come up with something more creative.
    One way or another, he was going to blow Logan MacRoy right to hell.
    Teeth grinding, he lowered the rifle—just as the wristband the client had given him heated up again. He hissed in discomfort at the vicious burn.
    What the fuck was that about, anyway? The client had said it would prevent him from being detected, but by what? By whom? MacRoy didn’t seem to have a fucking clue he was being hunted.
    And he wouldn’t. Not even when he died.
     
     
    Standing at what Logan had said was a safe distance, Giada scanned the woods as he rigged the bursting charge he’d use to blow up the mortar.
    She had the distinct feeling they’d just dodged a bullet.
    They’d been about to walk outside with the mortar when it hit her that the cell phone was wired to the explosive cone just as the mercury switch had been. She’d barely managed to zap the cell before Logan stepped outside.
    What the heck am I dealing with here? This bomber was obviously no amateur, but he wasn’t using magic either. Yet if he was nothing more than a mortal, a spell should have detected him. But every time she tried to do a scan, it was as if something blocked her.
    I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.
    The mortar detonated with a thunderous boom and a soaring plume of smoke.
    Giada, Logan, Josh, and his mother watched the show from a safe distance at the edge of the field. “Wow!” The little boy’s blue eyes looked huge as he clapped both hands over his ears. “Wow!”
    “Yeah,” Giada echoed grimly. “Wow.” If she hadn’t been able to disarm that thing . . .
    “All right, Josh, show’s over.” Karen Harper dropped a firm hand on her son’s shoulder and turned him firmly around. “Time to go home and fix dinner.”
    “But Mooooommm . . .”
    “Dinner sounds good.” Logan gave Giada that easy smile of his as the two moved away, Josh still wheedling fruitlessly. “I know this great Mexican restaurant up the street.”
    What the heck—I deserve a celebration. “Sure.” Giada gave those dark eyes a reckless smile. “Why not?”

TWO
    Chico’s was dimly lit, with sombreros and black velvet paintings of matadors hanging on the walls. It also served the best Mexican in three counties, which was why it was always packed.
    The Latino waiter guided Giada and Logan to a dimly lit corner and took their drink orders as they contemplated the menu’s selection of gastric