Depressed, I hoisted my shoulder bag with its early-warning amulet higher onto my lap, the ley-line amulet glowing briefly when it fell into my aura’s influence. Thanks to them, Jenks had looked for and found the explosive charm stuck to the car before it blew, and then the bug they’d put on it in case we found the bomb. Ivy had been ticked. Trent, impressed. It was the bug that had prompted Ivy to take 44 southwest instead of jumping on 70, ticking off Trent, whose ultimate destination was Seattle. I wasn’t going to Seattle. I was going to San Francisco. The deal was the West Coast in two days, not Seattle.

I turned to look at the man, wondering if he could sing. “How’s your shoulder?” I asked. He’d missed a smear of blood just under his hairline, and I forced my attention from it. I could see it in peekaboo snatches when the wind hit him just right.

Trent’s sour expression shifted to one of irritation. “Better,” he said, the word clipped. “I don’t think I’m bleeding through my pores anymore.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Ivy tighten her grip on the wheel, her French-manicured nails catching the light. Jenks hummed his wings in worry, and I took an uneasy breath. “Sorry,” I said shortly, wondering if I should ask Ivy to stop.

“You care?” Trent muttered.

“No,” I said, resettling myself to look out the front. “But I told Quen I’d keep you alive. Even when you do stupid stuff like hide in a hole instead of finding Ivy like I told you to.”

“I wasn’t aware that keeping your word was important to you,” he mocked.

My eyes narrowed. Jenks shook his head, warning me not to rise to the bait, but I couldn’t help it. “It is,” I said, eying my nails. There was blood under my cuticles. Trent’s?

“And that’s why you refuse to take my familiar mark off?” Trent asked.

Ivy exhaled loudly, and I looked sideways at him. “I don’t trust you,” I said. “Duh.”

Seeing my irritation, Trent put his leg across his knee and lounged in the backseat like it was a limo, the sun in his hair and eyes as he looked out at the hot, flat view. How could someone with a bloody rag around their arm look that confident? Because he could sing someone to death? “That’s patently obvious,” he said softly, almost like a rebuke. “But you did agree.”

I huffed and turned back around. “Like you hold to all your agreements.”

“I do,” he said quickly. “Agreements…and threats.”

Jenks’s expression had gone dark. Ivy, too, was clenching her jaw. The scent of cinnamon and wine grew stronger. Trent might look calm, but he was losing it on the inside. I might not have noticed it last year, but after spending almost a day with him, I could now.

“Then why haven’t you killed me? Huh?” I said, turning and holding myself back from the seat so I could look at him square on. “Go for it, you little spot of sunshine! I just beat off three assassins, one by myself. I’m stronger than you, and you know it.” I smiled insincerely. “It bothers you, doesn’t it? You rely on Quen far too much.”