“Anything from sand to quartz with a side order of chromium, I suppose. They used to use quartz to make silicon, which is why we have silicon valley, I guess, but it’s made artificially these days.”
The engine roared closer. A dust cloud formed against the pale blue evening sky.
He’d have to research mines and minerals. Jax sipped his beer while he watched an enormous Hummer spin to a stop next to his Subaru and Conan’s Jeep. “Conspicuous consumption, much?”
“The question is, how did they find us? It’s not exactly a beaten track.” Conan watched with equal interest as the Hummer’s doors heaved open. “Nadine has no reason to send anyone our way, that I know of. And even my Hollywood-excessive brother got rid of his gas-sucker since he got religion. Or a wife, same thing.”
“Jax!” a child’s voice squealed in delight as the Hummer’s doors opened.
Shit. Loretta! He’d expected his team, not his ten-year-old ward. Jax stood to meet the onslaught.
The kid flew at him, braid flying, glasses bouncing. He wasn’t much on hugging, but he opened his arms to the orphan he was supposed to be looking after. She flew into him, hugging his waist as if he’d been missing a thousand years. With exasperation, he watched over her head.
Sure enough, orange curls and a psychedelic T-shirt popped out of the passenger side. He didn’t even bother noting which of his oddball fellows accompanied her. Jax focused on Evie’s expression. She looked like she might murder him. Fair enough. He could handle that.
“Hey, pipsqueak. Are you here because you need my permission to buy a circus? Or has Evie been mean to you?” He hugged the kid and hefted her into his arms as shield against the approaching storm.
Loretta smacked his shoulder. “You vanished! Ariel was frantic!”
“How could you tell? Did she text in all caps?” Jax knew his neurodivergent sister well. Ariel was probably just as angry with him as Evie. Women simply didn’t understand that a man had only his name and reputation to show who he was.
Jax glared at Roark, who ambled up behind Evie. The six-foot Cajun had grown out his hair lately. Muscled like a body builder, covered in tattoos and a roving assortment of metal, he’d once been part of Jax’s military intelligence crew. He was studying the landscape while pretending he wasn’t taking in everything about the stranger unfolding from the campfire.
“Conan, this is my ward, Loretta Post, her guardian, Evangeline Carstairs, and a man I thought was a friend, Roark LeBlanc. Conan Ives Oswin, folks. I am not dead or vanished and while I appreciate your concern, you can all go back to your regularly scheduled lives.” He should feel glad that they were worried enough to come looking for him. But he knew them too well. They’d spent a good chunk of Loretta’s money because they were curious.
“Hey, Conan.” Evie nodded at the tall stranger, but she was doing her weird third-eye thing where she turned blank and insensible. “Funky aura, you got there,” she declared, coming out of her spell and swinging to admire the buttes and desert. “Man, this place has stories to tell.”
Ignoring Jax, she walked off.
Jax couldn’t help it. Every time Evie dislocated everyone’s expectations, he wanted to roll on the ground and roar with laughter. Jaws dropped all around, and she didn’t even notice.
Damn, he’d missed her.
“She’s really, really mad at you,” Loretta whispered, then wiggled to get down. “But not silver dagger mad.”
Good to know. The last time Loretta had reported that Evie’sbubblewas a sword, Evie had taken on the men who had killed Loretta’s parents and almost got them all shot.
“Roark?” Conan asked. “How did a Cajun get called by a Scots name?”
The metal head shrugged. “Ma reads romance.”
Conan nodded as if this made sense. “Looks like you have more than enough company.” He pulled a business card out of his wallet and handed it over. “I’ll look into those things we talked about. Keep in touch.”
Jax wasn’t carrying business cards and didn’t think Conan needed one if he could find him in a freaking desert without having been introduced in the first place. He tucked the card away and returned to glaring at Roark as Conan strode back to his Jeep.
“Da women thought you were dead, man.” Roark shrugged. “Ah couldn’t let Evie and dachevrettecome alone.”
That was a crock, but he wouldn’t call his Cajun friend on it. The dialect was a cover for a brilliant mind that had aced MIT with honors—although how he’d talked to his Boston professors was a mystery. “How the hell did you find me? And if you saysatellite, you’re fired.”
Roark grinned and watched Loretta run after Evie, who was apparently speaking to thin air. “If you were keepin’ up,couillon, you’d know we got our own business now. You can hire us, but you ain’t, so you can’t fire us.”
“So you’re being paid to locate me?”
“Huh, hadn’t thought ’bout dat. Think your sister has money?”
“Given her math abilities, I suspect Ariel could own the world if she applied her mind to it. Knowing whether she does or not is another matter entirely.” Jax couldn’t tear his gaze from Evie. She was a flame against the growing darkness.
Roark poured coffee into a cup, sniffed, and dumped it into the dirt. “I got better in da Hummer. You want to rein ’em in and send them home or should I fix a pot?”