Free Absolutely Captivated by Kristine Grayson Page A

managed
to rope your poor son into all of this.”
    “What?” Travers pushed off the door.
His blue eyes seemed even brighter than they had a minute before.
“I’m not conducting a scam.”
    Zoe silently cursed herself for using
the word “Fate” before anyone else had, but she was committed
now.
    “You clearly are. Anyone with a hint
of magic could tell that you and your boy are about as magical as
they come. That kid’s going to be something, with the abilities he
already has. I sure hope his training is better than yours, because
it’s clear that you’re not smart enough to scam anyone. First of
all, you have to know that—”
    “Wait a minute.” Travers’ voice got
lower when he was angry. And softer. Which made it seem more
menacing, somehow, than a yell. “I am not involving my son in
anything illegal.”
    “Not by human laws, no,” Zoe said,
“although I haven’t heard the pitch yet. Is it to steal
something?”
    All three women nodded their
heads.
    “Well, then, I’m not your man,
metaphorically speaking,” Zoe said. “Because I don’t break
laws—mortal or mage. It’s just not good for me, my reputation, or
my business.”
    “We haven’t asked you to break any
laws,” Travers said.
    “Um, Dad,” Kyle said, so softly that
he might have hoped Zoe couldn’t hear him. “The Fates just
did.”
    “The Fates.” Travers put his hands on
his hips. “I believe that they’re the Fates as much as I believe
that you, Ms. Sinclair, are one-hundred-and-seventy-four years old.
I have had enough of this craziness. Kyle, we’re
leaving.”
    “No.” The boy flopped onto Zoe’s
couch. A cloud of dust rose off the cushions, and Zoe almost smiled
despite her annoyance. Her housekeeping skills did leave something
to be desired. “We’re not leaving until someone promises to take
care of the Fates.”
    Now the boy was calling them the
Fates, but Zoe didn’t know if that was because she had done so
first. She silently cursed herself again for making that mistake,
and made a mental promise that she would never again berate clients
who made the same one. It was startlingly easy to fall into that
kind of trap.
    “Travers,” said the redhead. “You
really must stay.”
    “We will need you on this mission,”
said the brunette.
    “Mission?” Now his voice went up. And
it moved from baritone to Irish tenor. Which Zoe still found
attractive, even though she was annoyed. And the fact that she
found him attractive when she was annoyed annoyed her even
further.
    “Look, ladies,” he said, “I’ve done
all I’m going to do. Get Miss Sinclair to baby-sit you for a few
days. Maybe she can find someone new to pass you off on. I’m outta
here.”
    He took steps toward the couch,
looking forever like an angry father about to grab his son and take
him out of a dangerous place. Kyle ran to Zoe and hid behind her
chair.
    “You’ve got to hear this
out,” Kyle said, all in a rush. “Because we’re not scamming you and
no one’s lying to you and my dad really is clueless—he has been
since I was a baby. He always says it’s coincidence that I know
stuff, not that I’m psychic, even though my Aunt Viv is psychic and
my new Uncle Dexter used to be Superman.”
    That last caught Zoe by surprise.
“Dexter?” She turned toward the boy, and saw him only partially out
of her left eye. He had ducked behind the chair, and was holding
its back with his hands, as if it were a shield that he could move
to block his father.
    “We’re leaving, Kyle,” Travers said.
“Enough games.”
    “Superman?” Zoe asked, a memory
playing in her mind. Something about Canada and—
    “Henri Barou,” the blond said. “In the
1930s, he went afoul with some children, let them see him fly, and
they wrote a comic book? Do you recall the scandal?”
    Zoe looked at the blonde. Zoe did
recall the scandal. She had met Henri Barou who was calling himself
Dexter Grant. He wanted to know if she would help him with a case.
He