Page 33 of The Diamond in the Rough

“And kill people with your bare fucking hands,” Hart put in.

I shot him an alarmed look. I didn’t want that part of my life to be spread around, even if it was the less truthful and more palatable version that Ward and Mason thought theyknew. “That isn’t something I’ve trained to do,” I replied, which was true. I just didn’t mention the fact that I’d done it, especially because I didn’t know what Hart did or didn’t know.

“What have you trained to do?” Raj asked, and I sensed there was more than simple curiosity, although I didn’t want to be a list of skills that could be exploited by the FBI.

“Notkill people with my bare hands,” I retorted. It was a defensive response, and I knew it, but I couldn’t help myself.

Hart let out a laugh.

Raj blinked, his expression surprised, but not alarmed. “Well, I think we all appreciate that particular training,” he remarked mildly.

Hart snorted, and Cass shook her head. “Jesus,” she whispered. “You really got slammed in the magic department, didn’t you?”

“Slammed in the magic department?” I repeated, confused.

“It’s another way of saying that you have a lot to deal with,” Raj explained. “A lot to have to keep under control.”

“Oh,” I said. “Yes. I guess so.”

“But nothing from the blood?” Raj asked.

“No,” I replied. “I don’t get anything from anything animal or human.”

Raj looked thoughtful. “So nothing from bone, then?”

“No,” I confirmed. “Nothing from bone, hair, blood, skin, nails, claws, feathers—nothing that came from any kind of animal.”

“But plants?” he asked, then.

“Dead ones,” I replied. “I can get a read off wood or woven cotton or linen.”

“But not wool?” he asked, suddenly.

“No,” I answered. “Not wool.”

“Hm.” The sound Raj made was thoughtful. But then heshook himself, nothing more than a shiver, and turned back to me. “Are you okay to read the next thing?” he asked me.

Taking deep breath, I nodded.

In the end,they had me read three more towels, a notepad and pen, a vase, two chairs, a bedspread, four pillows, and the room key.

I learned more about the maid, who was working two jobs to save up for a car and had just started a new relationship with a guy named Chris, and more about Yvonne Gates-Adams’s fears about what would happen if her shifter status were exposed publicly. She didn’t have a job—she’d left it to help run her husband’s senatorial campaign the previous year—so while she’d had to register as a shifter, nobody had any reason to pull her status for a job search or the now-mandatory state checks of any position that had regular contact with minors or in the medical field.

I didn’t get anything else from the man who killed her.

And I was exhausted, hungry, and frustrated.

I wanted to be able to be more helpful, and while I’d gonedeepinto the impressions on every single object I touched, I couldn’t find things that weren’t there.

The team was packing up, tablets going into messenger bags or backpacks, computers being shut down. I sat in an extra office chair that Hart had pulled up next to his desk for me, waiting for them to sort themselves out so that I could figure out how I was getting home. Hart had grabbed me this morning from Beyond the Veil, and I assumed he was going to take me back, either there or, hopefully, to my apartment where I had a freezer with a bunch of frozen meals and a pantry with cans of beans,soup, and tomato products, as well as rice and pasta. In other words, dinner.

“Hey, Tony,” Hart called.

“What, Keebler?” came the response.

“Any chance you can take the kid home?”

“Sure, if that’s okay with you, Rayn?”