Free Malcolm and Ives 02 - Trouble With Air and Magic by Patricia Rice

told him the truth. “The Internet can only communicate words. My family can make you weep with broccoli, fall in love with scent, and drag the truth from you with a look. Trust me, you want to stay off their radar if you value your privacy.”
    And then there was Cho, who could visualize a target. Or Francesca, who was a psychic pilot. Or her other cousins, Jack and Tom, who more or less communicated with objects and smells. Try explaining that to a man of logic. And then explain why she didn’t dare call on them until she was certain Bo was alive. Their family history was perilous. Her mother’s murder was just the tip of the iceberg.
    Conan steepled his fingers under his chin, and his brown eyes lit with fascination. “Did your brother have any of these magical talents?”
    That was not the reaction she expected. Dorrie eyed him with suspicion. “He’s an excellent navigator, which is why he was the pilot in that experimental helicopter test.”
    “I don’t suppose you have any Malcolms on your family tree?” he asked.
    “Malcolms?” Dorrie suddenly felt like an insect under a microscope, and she thoroughly disliked the feeling. “I’d ask who they were, but I really don’t think our family history factors into this.” That was a lie. Mostly, she was praying it had nothing to do with family history. “Hire Fred Liu, if you want, but don’t let my staff know he’s working on their files.”
    Conan shrugged. “If by any chance you have a Malcolm in your family, don’t check the genealogy on the Internet. The site is dangerous, and I’m trying to shut it down.”
    “If there were any Malcolms in my ancestry, it would more likely be on my father’s Irish side,” she scoffed.
    “I’ve found Malcolms in Hong Kong and China, but so far, none in Ireland. I could look if your father exhibits any flaky tendencies. Right now, I’m siccing Fred on your personnel files.”
    He walked off without further explanation. Talk about flaky! The damned man was freakier than she was. She needed a security expert, not her grandmother. She couldn’t tell if he was taking her concern about Bo seriously or just playing her for reasons beyond her understanding. That was her sagging confidence speaking.
    Struggling with the grief that hit her when she least expected it, Dorrie pinched the bridge of her nose, let the pain wash over her, and dragged back to business.
    She needed an outside accountant to determine if client checks were being diverted. Should the media discover the foundation was throwing away money, their donors would vanish like rats from a sinking ship.
    She might as well brand FAIL on her forehead. She desperately needed Bo to come home. Maybe that was why she refused to believe he was dead. And another reason why she couldn’t drag family into this. She really might be delusional.
    She’d already left the tow truck driver downstairs, replacing her tires for a sum she couldn’t afford. Her insurance agent had said that with her deductible, it wouldn’t even be worth filing a claim. If she couldn’t stay at her father’s, she’d have to find a place to rent in L.A.’s abominably high housing market. Her salary really couldn’t cover rent and car payments, and she didn’t have the nerve to give herself a raise under the circumstances.
    While pounding her head on the desk might be cathartic, she couldn’t solve her problems that way. Fine, she was pathetic but practical.
    She packed up her briefcase and Toto and prepared to leave as soon as the tow driver told her that her car was ready. By the time she’d reached the elevator, Conan had joined her. She shot him an irritated glance. “You’re supposed to be hunting hackers in the computers.”
    “You’re supposed to be waiting for me to find them.” The door opened, and he appropriated her elbow, leading her in. Toto the Traitor yipped a friendly greeting.
    She didn’t like admitting that she kind of enjoyed his high-handed decision to