Whisper of Shadows (The Diamond City Magic Novels) by Diana Pharaoh Francis Read Free Book Online

exasperation. Taylor had a right to her irritation. “I get it. Really.”
    She flashed me a wicked grin, the kind we’d shared as kids right before we broke all the rules. “Good. Then I’ll stop beating the horse. But don’t think I won’t call you on it when you start in again.”
    “Better than the silent treatment.”
    “So you say now.”
    We didn’t talk much more after that. Taylor concentrated on weaving in and out of traffic. She ran a few lights that took too long to change, passed in the center lane, and generally drove like a bat out of hell. She was absolutely brilliant.
    We pulled into a parking garage down the street from FBI headquarters. Taylor found a spot near the exit. I had to admire that. She was thinking about how to get away. I wished that hadn’t surprised me. She was right. I needed to adjust my thinking when it came to her.
    We got out and met at the rear of the vehicle. I looked down at my boots. Spike heels on ice and snow.
    “The clothes make the woman,” Taylor said. “Use the way you’re dressed to your advantage. Go in like you own the place. It works.”
    I gave her a doubtful look. “If you say so. I feel like a fraud.”
    “Just follow my lead. You can do this. And you might give some thought to the fact I may have a few skill sets you don’t have and you need.”
    She strode away, head held high, her entire body regal. I followed, feeling like I was going to twist an ankle with every step. All the same, I kept my back straight and my chin lifted. Right up to the point where someone locked an arm around my neck and jammed a gun into the small of my back.

Chapter 3
    “EASY NOW.”
    I recognized the woman’s voice and went rigid with fury. Special Agent Sandra Arnow. I had to fight the urge to struggle. She’d shoot me. I had absolutely no doubt of it. Unfortunately, we’d outrun our bodyguards on the way here. More evidence of my sister’s prowess. They’d catch up with us soon, I had no doubt, but that could be too late.
    “Over there, into that door,” Arnow said. “You, too, Miss Hollis,” she said to Taylor, raising her voice only slightly.
    Taylor’s eyes widened, and she got a look of helpless fear on her face. For a second I believed it. Then I remembered our conversation in the car. If our family didn’t even take her seriously, Arnow probably wouldn’t. She’d been the agent tracking Josh after he was kidnapped, and had seen Taylor at her emotional worst. Taylor was banking on the fact that Arnow would assume she wasn’t a threat. I hoped so, anyhow. And I hoped really hard that Taylor was about to show me how wrong I’d been about her.
    Arnow pushed me toward a dinged-up orange door in the shadows beneath a small portico. It had no sign to say where it led. Taylor stumbled ahead and opened the door. We followed her through.
    Light bloomed in the narrow stairwell. It smelled of cement, urine, and greasy French fries. I wrinkled my nose. To my surprise, Arnow released me, pushing me away. I twisted to face her. Taylor stood close behind me.
    “What the hell do you want?” I demanded, then looked her over from head to toe. “What happened to you? Did you go to Kmart for a makeover?”
    My experience with Sandra Arnow was that she was a fashion model in FBI clothing. Last time I’d met her, her ash-blond hair had been pulled up in a sleek chignon, and she’d worn a tailored designer suit. The stiletto pumps she’d been wearing might have been pulled right out of my sister’s closet. Now, she looked more like me after I’d been crawling through the back alleys, under fences, and through bushes. Her hair hung behind her head in a ragged ponytail, with loose tendrils hanging in draggles around her face. She wore jeans holed at the knees to reveal a flannel lining, a green army pea coat, and battered boots too wet for me to judge what color they might have been. Without her usual heels, she was a couple inches shorter than me. She wasn’t wearing