Free MORTAL COILS by Unknown Page B

then glanced out the window
to the street below. Marcus looked, too.
     
    The
kids appeared on the sidewalk. She turned back to him. “Do you know who I am?”
     
    Was
that a trick question? “Audrey Post,” he offered.
     
    This
seemed to be the right thing because she smiled. It was a nice smile, and
Welmann found himself relaxing a notch. He shook off that creeping complacency.
He had to keep his guard up. This wasn’t a game.
     
    She
eased into one of the seats at the dining table as gracefully as a lotus
blossom settling onto a reflecting pool.
     
    “Please”—she
gestured to the opposite chair—“sit.”
     
    Welmann,
far from being a gentleman, was no idiot. You didn’t stand when a lady of power
offered you a place at her table. He sat and the chair creaked from his
generous frame.
     
    The
kitchen door swung inward, and the old woman backed into the dining room
holding a tray with tea service.
     
    She
set it on the table and whispered, “Why are you talking to him?” She scowled at
Welmann, then made a throat-slitting motion.
     
    Welmann
liked this full-of-venom little old lady. He quashed his chuckles, though; she
wasn’t kidding. Sweat trickled down his sides.
     
    “The
tea will be all, Cecilia.”
     
    Cecilia’s
gaze dropped to the floor. “Yes, yes, of course.” She stepped back into the
kitchen.
     
    “How
did you find me, Mr. Welmann?” Audrey Post asked.
     
    “Your
grandchildren.”
     
    Her
eyes became slits and her lips compressed to a single line.
     
    That
struck a nerve. So no one was supposed to know about the kids? Maybe that was
the card to play. “Eliot and Fiona,” he said, “ages fifteen, twins.”
     
    Her
delicate jaw clenched. He was definitely on the right track.
     
    “My
employer respects you. You two should talk.” Welmann reached into his jacket
for his cell phone.
     
    “Put
that down.”
     
    Welmann’s
hand immediately obeyed and dropped the phone. That was a nice trick. Audrey
Post had the juice all right.
     
    “Look.”
He leaned forward. “I’m just a Driver, but if you’re in trouble, I can talk to
them for you.”
     
    She
closed her eyes. “So sincere,” she whispered. “That is sweet. But your employer
and the rest of his family—I need not their favor, tolerance, or permission to
do anything.”
     
    Welmann
didn’t get that. People didn’t come to his boss’s interest unless they merited
favor or punishment. Both of which he knew how to do very well.
     
    “How,
precisely,” she said, “did you discover the children?”
     
    Welmann
was no genius, but the lightbulb finally flicked on in his head. Were the kids
what this game of cat and mouse between all the players was about? Sure, he’d
been sent after the grandmother, but maybe—as impossible as this sounded—his
boss hadn’t known about the two kids.
     
    He
knew the smell of pay dirt, though, and those kids were it.
     
    Welmann
sipped his tea, chamomile in bone china. He was a black-coffee guy, but this
was nice, too. It served as a much needed pause while he studied her and
figured this all out.
     
    Audrey
Post shifted in her seat, her feathers ruffled.
     
    “I
didn’t find out nothing. A guy named Uri Crumble did the legwork.”
     
    One
of her eyebrows arched. “Crumble? Another Driver?”
     
    “I
don’t think so. At least not one who works for my people.”
     
    Her
smooth olive complexion paled and her lips parted in astonishment.
     
    Apparently
Audrey Post had a clue whom Crumble worked for, too. And if they were half as
nasty as he heard they were, he could use that to flip her to his side.
     
    “These
are not guys you want to mess around with. They don’t exactly play by rules.”
     
    She
drew her hands together in a steeple. “Of course . . .” Her gaze drifted far
away, deep in thought.
     
    If
Welmann had any advantage, he had to press it now. Make a connection with her
and get her to trust him—for her own good. Sure, she had power; anyone