She waited until she could speak again without losing her shit. “I was tired of waiting and wondering when it might be all right to claim the life I deserve. I decided I needed to have my questions answered about what had happened more than I needed to hide in safety. That I needed more than anything else to confront this.” She spread out both hands, indicating him and the two listening detectives.

His cold expression hadn’t warmed in the slightest. He said to the detectives, “Go grab some coffee.”

“But, sir…” Under the pressure of Josiah’s icy stare, Frank’s protest fizzled into silence. He muttered to Rubio, “Come on. Let’s do as the man says.”

As they filed out, Josiah pulled out the chair across the table from Molly and sat. Holding her gaze, he deliberately put his hand over the recorder that was stationed in the middle of the table and switched it off.

What was he doing now?

Even as she opened her mouth to ask, he said, “The audio might be turned off, but the camera isn’t. They’re watching everything you do.”

“Understood.” More than anything, she wanted to reach out to touch him. She clenched her hands together under the table. “How will you explain wanting to talk to me without the recorder on?”

“I’ll tell them the truth, that you’ve been my CI and you’ve given me what information you had that’s pertinent to another investigation. They won’t like it, but they’ll have to accept it.” Anger blazed in his expression. He said fiercely, “The only reason I’m not biting your head off right now is because you look like shit.”

“Likewise, because you do too,” she muttered. Her gaze fell and skewed left to the new scar, and sudden wetness blurred her vision. “How are you walking around after an injury like that?”

“Magic. My coven called in a trauma specialist who arrived in Atlanta this morning.”

She folded her arms and gripped her elbows tightly. “But how are you standing upright? You shouldn’t be out of the hospital, not after an injury like that. I don’t care what kind of magical healing you’ve had.”

“As far as the rest of the world is concerned, I’m still in the hospital.” He planted his fists on the table and leaned forward, the knuckles showing white. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re weeks early.”

A fine tremor shook through her. Pulling out her phone, she activated the screen, scrolled to the call log and held it up at an angle that allowed him to see but obscured the view from the camera mounted high in one corner. “Two days ago, you woke me out of a sound sleep around four a.m. Then I couldn’t get in touch with you. All I got was an error message.”