by Anya Breton
“Hello?” The female jolted his focus back to the phone.
“Hi, babe. Busy tonight?”
“Who is this?”
Playing coy, was she? “Who is this? Drew Haizea. You don’t recognize my voice?”
“Oh. Drew. No. I don’t. What do you want?”
Was this Sophie? Where was the sexy purr she’d used on him last week?
“Was just wondering if you were busy tonight,” he said.
“Yes. I’m busy.”
“Can’t get out of it? We could have a good time.”
A harsh laugh scraped the woman’s throat. “I’ll clue you in because I suspect you’re going to have one hell of a night…no, make that week. You’ve been designated as a rogue witch. No one is going to have a good time with you until you get that fixed.”
“I’ve been what?” he yelped.
“Rogue witch,” the woman said as if he were a neophyte. “Kill-on-sight if you’re found in the area.”
“I know what…” Drew hesitated, recalling there was a vanilla human in the room. “I know what it means. I don’t understand how I could have been designated that. Everyone knows me. They know who I’m affiliated with.”
“I’m only relaying what I’ve been told. We’ve been instructed to provide no assistance to you on penalty of landing on the rogue list with you.”
“Who instructed that?”
“The Haizea dragon…er, I mean the priestess.”
“The…” He barely caught himself before he spoke the word the human mechanic would associate with all manner of evil things. Instead he squealed to the stratosphere, “My mother instructed this?”
“Yes.”
He stared at a balled-up receipt bouncing across the floor.
This was a misunderstanding. It had to be. His mother wouldn’t have made him kill-on-sight. Not after thirty-two years of being her favorite. He had to talk to her.
“Am I really K.O.S.?” Was that his girlish voice?
“I haven’t heard anything specifically about that,” Sophie said. “But you’re definitely rogue. It’s on the website.”
“The website?” Drew nearly toppled the chair over on his trip to his feet. “It’s official?”
“The news came through the phone tree. That’s pretty official. Look, I gotta go. If you see your brother, tell him if things don’t work out with that girl he’s with, I’m always available.”
Always available…unless he was marked as a rogue witch.
Drew slumped back into the chair, staring at the phone’s flashing screen. She’d hung up. And his mother hadn’t called back.
Fifteen minutes. Drew found the entry in his recent calls so he could try Amanda again. Voice mail.
“It’s Drew. Again. I’ve just heard some disturbing news. Call me back.”
He balled the phone up in his fist. Nine times, he tapped the screen against his chin before he realized he’d been making the nervous motion. Drew pushed the phone between his teeth without biting down.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
His gaze shot guiltily toward the counter. The mechanic smiled at him.
She’d witnessed the whole conversation. Thank Aer she could only hear one side.
He pulled the phone from his teeth. “Uh, I’m going to need a few minutes to work out a few…things before I do the paperwork.”
“No problem,” she said with a dismissive wave. “I’ll give you some time while I get the car up on the lift.” At the interior door to her garage she paused, one generous breast smashed against the jamb. “Just shout if you need anything.”
He didn’t bother with a response because no vanilla human would be able to do a damn thing for him if his mother had placed a bull’s-eye squarely on his head. Sophie had to be fucking with him. Amanda Haizea had given him everything he’d ever wanted. She’d never endanger him.
No matter how much he’d screwed up.
Chapter Two
Erica slid out from beneath the Ferrari. She couldn’t find any mechanical explanation for why the Italian car would catch fire. The engine was sound and the body was clean apart from the charred part near the wheel arch. Had he driven through something burning on Route 9? That seemed the only logical, although implausible, explanation. Maybe the internet would know the answer.
“Ellen,” the male squeaked from the office. “It’s Drew. I need to talk to my mother.”
Something wasn’t right in his world. Erica wasn’t terribly surprised. He seemed like an ass. He’d called two different women in the span of five minutes about setting up dates. And she’d seen the length of his contact list when he scrolled through it in the truck. The guy had more A’s in his list than Erica had in her entire phone.
“What do you mean she won’t talk to me? It’s Drew, her son.”
That had to be rough. What did a guy have to do to earn the silent treatment from his mother?
Erica wiped her hands on a fresh shop towel as she walked a semicircle around the car.
Maybe the weather was a factor in the fire. What was the high temperature in Italy anyway? If she had time, she’d have loved to solve this puzzle without seeking outside help. But the guy in the office clearly needed his car.
“She designated me as a rogue, Ellen,” the man shouted. “You get her on the fucking phone this fucking second!”
Rogue about summed the guy up. At least his mother was under no illusions about what sort of son she’d raised.
Erica peered at the undercarriage, contemplating her next move. Now would be a bad time to use the computer for hints. Someday she’d be able to afford one for the work area.
“I didn’t touch your daughter.” The man’s voice cracked. It soured for his follow-up statement. “Aston did all the touching, or didn’t you hear?” There was a pause. “Ellen? Ellen!”
Something crashed against the wall. Erica jumped a half foot off the concrete.
“Fuck!”
A clank followed the male’s scream. She raced to verify what had happened. Sure enough one of the chairs lay upside down like some sort of eighties-era bug sculpture. The male, Drew as he’d called himself, paced the office with a furious gait.
Her instinct was to ask him if everything was okay. Everything was obviously not okay. Instead she asked, “Do you need me to give you a ride anywhere?”
He whipped toward her. Surprise widened his features. He’d forgotten she was in the next room over? That it was her chair he’d thrown at the wall?
“Uh…” Drew glanced at the window and then back. He repeated the act twice more. “I don’t know.”
“How about a Coke? I’ve got a few cans in the fridge out here.”
“Coke.” His shoulders dropped and his head slumped. “A Coke would be great.”
Poor guy.
Erica forced herself out of the room before she could feel any more sympathy for him. She was still paying the price for the last time she showed an asshole compassion. Lingering at the fridge for a few minutes eased the urge to offer her customer more support. He was pacing the length of the office when she returned.
Briefly, his lips lifted in gratitude as he took the cold can of soda. And then he set about pacing again. Erica eased back to the door. He needed to be alone with his thoughts.
He swiveled on one foot before she stepped fully out of view. “Can I use your phone?”
Erica glanced at the mobile phone in his left hand. “Uh…is it long distance?”
“To Manchester.”
Was that where he was from? He looked like a Hamptons yuppie.
He didn’t wait for actual acceptance before he headed between the horseshoe-shaped counter toward her cordless phone. Erica folded her arms across her chest, resting against the doorjamb. Was he going to help himself to a second can of Coke too?
Drew set his palms against the counter, hanging his head over her paperwork. He popped upright a split second before he spoke. “Don’t hang up. You owe me an explanation.”
/> Someone had answered. Erica slipped into the other room. The Ferrari called to her with a silent siren song. Time to sit in it for a few minutes and imagine a world where she could afford a vehicle half as expensive.
“What you do mean you have nothing to say to me?” Drew smacked the counter. “Why did you designate me as rogue? That’s a death sentence!”
“Don’t be so melodramatic, Drew,” Amanda Haizea drawled with all the concern of a mother whose child had simply skinned his knee. “No one will actually kill you.”
He lowered his volume to a harsh whisper despite his fury—the woman in the other room couldn’t hear what he was about to say. “If the vampires hear of it—”
“They won’t,” Amanda cut in, calm as you like. “I was specific about that.”
“Then why bother with the designation?”
“You’ve never taken any of my criticisms to heart, Andrew.”
Oh no. She’d used his full name. This was serious.
“Your actions this week have destroyed this family.”
“My actions?” Drew shoved off the counter, pacing to the window. “I’m not the one who resigned from the race for high priest in disgrace, ditched my job as coven priest and ran off with the housekeeper’s daughter! Did you designate Aston as a rogue witch?”
“I will deal with your brother. You have also disgraced this family, Andrew. I’ve tolerated your…recreations long enough. But when you disrespected your fiancée and your brother with that scene last weekend and then your fiancée videotaped your foray with the newlywed in the next room over…that was the last straw. I’ve allowed you too much freedom. It ends now. You are cut off. I’ll remove the rogue designation only when you turn your life around. Good luck, Andrew.”
“Wait,” Drew shouted before she could hang up. “Cut off? I can’t come home?”
“No. And any credit you get from the family has similarly been canceled.”
Her deadpan response chilled him to the bone. All of his credit came from the family. “What? You have to be kidding. You can’t do this to me. I’m your son!”
His mother’s voice hardened. “I’m doing this because you are my son. Good luck, Andrew.” She softened for her parting blow. “I have faith in you.”
“If you had faith in me you wouldn’t do this—”
Dead air. Again.
Drew crumpled the nearest piece of paper, tossing it at the window in a fit of impotent rage. His own mother really had put a big fat bull’s-eye on his head. Everyone in the Underground would be gunning for him once it got out.
He’d have to avoid the Underground.
He glanced at the door to the garage. The mechanic was vanilla, wasn’t she? He hadn’t sensed any odors to suggest she was infected with the Were virus. He’d be safe here until he figured out what he was going to do.
Drew dropped the phone onto its cradle. The windows ahead offered no inspiration.
Sleeping with a newly married woman when his fiancée was in the next room hadn’t been a bright idea. But he hadn’t thought Elizabeth truly wanted to marry him. Their arrangement had been largely political in nature—a move to propel his older brother to a position of authority.
But Elizabeth had certainly seemed pissed off when she and the newlywed husband walked into the room. Then she’d crowed triumphantly that she didn’t have to marry him anymore. Would marrying him really have been so bad? The sex had been good, hadn’t it? He’d thought so and she hadn’t complained.
Though he’d verified the designation news from the horse’s mouth, he still wanted another opinion. He found an entry in his favorites list on his mobile phone. The ringback proved the two bars of service were steady. But there was no answer.
“Hiya, babe,” he said to her voice mail. “Call me back. Let’s have a little fun.”
Drew jabbed a finger on his second favorite entry. Ringback.
“Drew, I can’t talk to you,” the youthful-sounding woman said. “You’re a rogue witch. I can’t afford to be rogue with you. Sorry, hon.”
“Wait—”
Silence. Drew threw his phone. The costly device impacted on the pressed concrete wall, clattering to the floor in pieces.
“What…” The mechanic appeared at the door. Her attention went to the scattered electronic pieces then to him. Pity softened her expression.
Shit. She’d heard something of his conversations. Maybe she wouldn’t understand. Being marked rogue was bad enough. He didn’t need to be responsible for the Underground’s existence coming to light in the human world. The longer he stayed, the harder it would be to keep the secret hidden. He’d find a way to get home.
Drew advanced to the counter. He gestured at her card swipe. “I need to pay you for the tow so I can get out of here. I’ll arrange for something to be done with the car later.”
She hesitated as if she might argue. Erica crossed the room behind him. She took up her spot beside her computer and accepted his outstretched card. “Let me just calculate the mileage.”
Her fingers flew over the keyboard. The numbers he saw didn’t look promising.
“Eighty dollars,” she said.
Swipe. Beep. Wait.
Her computer connected to the internet on old-fashioned dial-up. The static and bong of the thing reminded him of his childhood. He tapped an impatient beat against the Formica. The sooner he could get out of here, the sooner he could persuade his mother to give up this ridiculous idea.
The mechanic shifted. An uncomfortable move? Was it because he was behind her or something else?
She swiped the card. The beep sounded again. He waited.
Drew stiffened when she turned, lip firmly between her teeth. That was not a good look.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Erica said, genuine regret slowing her delivery. “But it says it’s been declined.”
He fished out a second card. “Try this one.”
Swipe. Beep. Wait.
The mechanic made a half-turn toward him. “I’m sorry—”
“This one.” Drew held out a third card.
Swipe. Beep. Wait.
“No—”
“This one has to work.”
Swipe. Beep. Wait.
Erica shook her head three seconds later. “No good. I’m sorry.”
No good. Just like him.
“I’m in a world of shit,” he said, largely for his own benefit. And then he slumped into the nearby chair because it was Aer’s honest truth.
Erica stared at the blond sprawled in the chair in front of her window. Four credit cards had failed in her machine. Her dreams of the garage being in the black went up in smoke.
But at least she wasn’t in a world of shit like him. No, all things considered her life was rather good. Moments like these reminded her of that.
Her father had left her the garage in his will. Erica had continued its success. For the most part. And she had a roof over her head—the ancestral home. She had a sister she loved even if that sister resented her and constantly made cracks about her weight. Yes, life was lovely.
Maybe that’s why she opened her mouth and said the stupidest thing to date.
“Look, it sounds like you’re having a rough time. I can drive you any place you want—”
“I don’t have any place to go.” Drew tossed a pair of arms out to either side, slouching fully into the chair to the point that he was in danger of falling out of it. “My mother canceled my credit. I have no money of my own. I haven’t got a job, so that isn’t going to change anytime soon. She won’t let me come home. She’s turned my friends against me.”
Which was worse, that he had no job and lived off his mother or that his mother had turned her back on him? Given he looked as if he was in his thirties, Erica wasn’t impressed by his inability to support himself. However…things were different for the filthy rich, weren’t they?
Still, he had to have someone who could help. “Do you have any other family who could help?”
“My brother took
off with his new girlfriend last week,” he said. “And he’d laugh in my face if I asked for help. Plus I didn’t know my father. Mother is all I have.”
“That’s…rough.”
Erica don’t fall for it, she silently snapped.
But the nice part in her won out. “There’s a cot in the storage room for when the weather is bad. You can stay there tonight if you need.”
“A cot.” His derisive repetition made it clear what he thought of her offer. And then he hit his head against the chair—a motion that looked like some sort of penance rolled up in frustration. “Thanks. I’ll probably need it.”
He looked truly pitiful—a hot blond dressed in seersucker with nowhere to go.
Words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “And if you need to stay longer…we can arrange some sort of work exchange.”
His attention focused on her, eyes narrowing as if to get a better look at her expression. Erica maintained her steady gaze despite badly wanting to fidget. “Thanks.”
It wasn’t an agreement but it also wasn’t a refusal. She nodded for him. “I’m going to make a few calls about the Ferrari and then think about dinner.”
“Look, I can’t pay you for the work on the Ferrari so you shouldn’t bother.”
“I know you can’t now. But I’m betting you’ll be able to soon.” Because someone who looked like he did wouldn’t experience poverty for long. Besides, if he defaulted on the bill, she’d get a nicely charred Ferrari. “Plus, this is like…a challenge for me. It’s like finishing a thousand-piece puzzle. I’m excited about it.”
“I can’t even imagine a world where I’d be excited about working on a car.”
Erica shrugged. “It’s my dad’s fault.” She gestured at the stack of menus behind the counter. “Check those menus out. We’ll get whatever strikes your fancy.”
“I don’t think I can eat. But thanks for the offer.”
He was a guy. He’d want to eat in an hour. But until then, she’d give him some time to mope alone.
Erica started out into the garage and walked right into a broad-chested male. Her ex.
“Jared,” she said tightly. “What do you want?”
