SweetlyBad

by Anya Breton

  “I don’t want to know that badly.”

  The guy on the ground moaned, proving that though he’d looked dead, he was very much alive.

  “I don’t have time to argue with you,” Drew grumbled under his breath as he bent toward the stranger. He hoisted the guy over his shoulder and started for the driveway.

  Erica stared in disbelief. What did he think he was doing?

  She was no closer to an answer when he disappeared into the brush. It wouldn’t be a good idea to follow him. No. Definitely not.

  Chapter Six

  Drew punched Steven in the head for the third time. He shook the sting out of his knuckles, whimpering at the pain. Babysitting an unconscious Air witch wasn’t what he’d hoped to be doing Saturday morning. Not to mention dodging assassination attempts.

  He fished his phone out of his pocket, thumbing the number for their housekeeper.

  “Ellen.” Drew rushed the words out as soon as the ringback cut off. “I need to talk to my mother. Someone just tried to kill me. I really am kill-on-sight!”

  “You’re not kill-on-sight,” the family’s housekeeper said in a dry tone to rival his mother’s. “She made sure it was clear that you’re simply rogue until you clean up your act. No one will try to kill you.”

  “Really?” He forced a sardonic laugh. “Strange considering I’m sitting on the guy who nearly choked the life out of me. He also used an Air pressure move on me and the helpful vanilla mechanic. We were almost crushed! Now let me talk to her or I’ll have the mechanic drive me there so I can make her listen to me.”

  Ellen exhaled noisily into the receiver. “I’ll try.”

  “You do that.”

  Steven wiggled his right leg. Drew elbowed him in the forehead.

  He should just kill Steven. The guy wouldn’t have hesitated to finish what he’d started. But Drew wasn’t a killer. The Cleaners could deal with Steven.

  “Your fiancée called me,” he muttered to the asshole on the ground. “I was her bachelorette party.”

  The muffled words he heard in the phone’s background implied Ellen had successfully gotten his mother. He sat upright even though she wouldn’t see him doing it.

  “Andrew,” his mother said by way of a greeting. “I’m not retracting the designation no matter how many grand tales of attacks you come up with.”

  “Grand tales? It isn’t a story, Mother. I’m sitting on Steven Brand’s unconscious figure—unconscious because I had to knock him out before he murdered me.”

  She snorted. “No one would dare attack a Haizea. Our family is too powerful.”

  Was powerful. The Haizea brood had been powerful when Aston was still priest and in the running for the position of regional high priest. And when his mother had been relevant instead of the joke she’d become.

  He couldn’t say any of that. Instead he said, “Steven doesn’t care about our family’s power—”

  “Steven Brand did not attack you. This is a cry for attention. I’m not falling for it. Turn your life around, Drew, and then you can come home. Until then, you’re rogue.”

  “Can’t we work out—”

  Silence.

  Drew nearly threw his phone again. Instead he got to his feet simply so he could kick Steven.

  Where were the Cleaners? How long did it take to drive…

  To the middle of nowhere.

  He slumped. It would be another twenty minutes at the earliest before they arrived. Until then he had to keep Steven quiet or the mechanic would ask more questions than she already had.

  There was nothing to do but think while he waited.

  His mother had discounted everything he’d said. She’d marked him as rogue and then refused to believe he was in danger.

  How in the hell had Steven even found him? Had his mother broadcasted his location to the covens? Drew barely knew where he was!

  “Did you kill him?”

  His head snapped toward the female beyond the tree line. Erica. What was she doing? He’d told her to let him handle this his way.

  “Go back to the garage,” he called out.

  “I can’t let you murder someone, Drew.”

  “I’m not going to murder anyone—”

  “Then how are you going to ‘deal’ with him?”

  He could hear the quotations in her voice. “I called someone for help. But you can’t be here when they get here.”

  “They? Is it a group, or a woman you don’t want me to know about?”

  “You insisted we could only have a one-night stand. So why would you care if I called a woman?”

  “I wouldn’t.” Her reply was falsely light. “But you said a one-night stand didn’t have to happen at night and it didn’t have to happen only once. You’re not getting it more than once if you called another woman.”

  But he’d get it more than once if he hadn’t?

  “I don’t know if it’s a woman,” he said.

  “You called for help but you don’t know if it’s a woman?”

  “They could send someone male or female or multiple someones. I don’t know.” He’d never had to call the Cleaners before, had never needed to. His life had been about money and sex until now.

  “So why are you hiding in the woods?”

  “I don’t know what these someones are going to do to this guy but I do know I don’t want you to have to witness it.”

  That had sounded strangely benevolent. Altruism wasn’t Drew’s way. So why was he sitting on an uncomfortable rock, dripping with sweat and desperately trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his knuckles? He could be comfortable in the air-conditioned office.

  It was her fault.

  “Are they going to murder that guy?”

  “I don’t know what they’re going to do,” he said.

  “You should bring him back to the garage.”

  “It’s not safe.” Steven hadn’t cared about collateral damage on his first attack. The dickhead wouldn’t hesitate to take Erica out of the picture if he got the chance to deal with them both.

  “I can chain him up.”

  Steven Brand strapped in chains was not the image that flared in Drew’s mind. Had the situation not been grave, he’d have suggested a little bit of role-playing. It was a bad day when Drew chose the right answer over the sexy one.

  “Just go back to the garage, Erica. They’ll be here soon. I don’t want you to be around when they get here.”

  “I see,” was her stiff reply.

  Oh, now he’d gone and hurt her feelings. She hadn’t been hurt when he made that stupid crack about her figure, yet his worrying about her safety upset her. Drew shouldn’t want to find out why. But he did.

  Her footsteps started away.

  Drew opened his mouth to call her back but recalled that he’d told her to leave.

  “Whu—” Steve got a single syllable out before Drew coldcocked him with all the frustration that had built since Erica pulled up in front of his Ferrari.

  That would keep the dickhead unconscious for a while. And if it didn’t, there’d be plenty more frustration where that had come from.

  Erica was so tired of Neanderthals. She could take care of herself. She didn’t need Drew protecting her. Especially considering she’d saved his ass, not to mention everything else on him, less than a half hour ago.

  Witness or no, she had knowledge of an attack. She’d be complicit in any crime regardless of whether or not she actually saw these mysterious helpers of Drew’s do anything. The smart thing would be to call the sheriff.

  There was one problem with that—she couldn’t explain what had happened in the garage. She’d have two choices—lie or sound like a crazy person. If she was going to lie, should she bother calling the police at all?

  Erica gnawed on her lower lip. This was drama she didn’t need. Not with customers demanding refunds on jobs and Jared threatening lawyers. Stoddard was supposed to be quiet.

  She popped the tab on a fresh can of Coke, chugging it as if it were
the first beer of the night at a frat party. Caffeine and sugar wouldn’t settle her nerves but the familiar taste on a hot day reminded her of her dad. Memories of fixing up the hot rod and working on cars together did settle her.

  Erica grabbed a Channellock wrench and got to work. She settled into her groove after five minutes. Unfortunately that groove was thrown off twenty minutes later when a panel van pulled onto the side of the road across from the garage.

  Erica stepped to the edge of the bay, contemplating going out to meet them. But this was Drew’s problem. And Drew wanted to deal with it his way. Maybe she’d luck out and they’d take him with them.

  Her stomach dipped at the thought. She tightened her grip on the wrench, reminding herself of what was important—the garage, her future. It would be better if Drew left.

  So why did her heart skip a beat when the van pulled away from the curb and Drew came walking out of the woods? He was disheveled, sweaty and grimy. He shouldn’t have looked hotter than ever. But he did.

  “No women,” he said with his sloppy smile. “No murder in your woods.”

  “They’ll probably drown him in the lake instead,” she muttered.

  He settled by her tool cart. The jingling of something implied he’d lifted one of the tools. “You’re not hiding a shower somewhere in the garage too, are you?”

  “No, but I have one at home.” Erica held her breath and hid her face behind the bumper. She’d not meant to invite him home but that had certainly sounded like it. Maybe he wouldn’t hear it that way.

  “When do we get to go home?”

  We. She’d not been a “we” in a long time. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a “we” with Drew. A laundry list of faults made him quite possibly the worst male she could have hooked up with. The only things he had going for him were his looks and his car.

  Criminy, how shallow could she possibly be?

  It was a one-night stand. Shallow was the name of the game. Erica stepped away from the bumper, facing him. “Saturdays are a short day. I close at noon.”

  His handsome face split into a larger smile. “Nice.”

  “But I have a few things to do before I can go. If you want out of here faster, you could help.”

  That smile twisted but rather than refuse her as his irritated expression implied, he gave a small nod. “Okay, what?”

  “Follow me.”

  * * * * *

  “Mrs…Kimball?” Drew stumbled over the name on the computer screen.

  “Who is this?” The sharp question caught him off guard. Women didn’t respond to him warily…until recently. Damn his mother.

  Drew turned up the charm. “This is Drew. I’m helping Erica out at Pearce Auto-body. Your Saturn is due for an oil change in the next few weeks. While you don’t have to bring it here, we are offering an oil and lube special.”

  He knew one hot mechanic he wanted to help oil and lube. His gaze strayed to where she was bent over the battery on the car she worked on—whatever its make and model was. Her full breasts pushed at the tank top. His mouth watered.

  “And?” the woman on the phone prompted.

  “Thirty percent and a nipple rotation.”

  “A nipple rotation?”

  Drew’s head heated from more than lust. He let out a self-effacing laugh. “Sorry about that. I’m eating a donut and got distracted with how delicious these nibbles are. The special is for thirty percent off the service plus tire rotation.”

  “Oh. My tires could use rotating. What kind of donut?”

  Golden brown with a stiff little peak.

  “Cinnamon,” he lied. “Can I schedule you for this week?”

  “We’re going north this week—”

  “Then an oil change before your trip is a perfect idea. We can get you in on Monday at 7:30. Will that work?”

  “Well…I suppose we could fit it in before we leave. How long will it take?”

  “Erica is a whiz at this car stuff. It shouldn’t take more than a half hour for the oil change—longer if you have the tire rotation. You could be on your way north before the morning shows get to the celebrity interview. I’ll put you down for 7:30.”

  “You have yourself a deal as long as you provide a few of those cinnamon donuts.”

  Drew chuckled nervously. “I’ll make a note for Erica. We’ll see you at 7:30 Monday, Mrs. Kimball.”

  “Thanks, Drew. I can’t wait to see the body that goes with the voice,” the woman purred before disconnecting the call.

  “You’re actually good at that,” Erica said from the door.

  He set the phone down then typed the appointment into the computer. “I’m good with people. It’s the only thing I’m good at besides sex. I may have promised Mrs. Kimball cinnamon donuts.”

  There was a silent beat. She was going to yell at him or tell him he was shit in bed. He stiffened in preparation.

  “I guess I’ll make a trip into Keene tomorrow,” she said instead. “I could use a few things.” Erica gestured behind her. “I’m just about done. Why don’t you shut the computer down?”

  He nodded but wondered how long it took a computer to shut down. Sure enough, she was ready at the door when the dinosaur of a PC finally went dark. She walked to the beat-up sedan Drew had assumed was junk. He followed close behind, hoping the car at least had working air-conditioning.

  Everything worked, including the radio blaring music off a CD. Erica jerked and turned the volume down, sending him a guilty look for having had it so loud.

  “You’ll blow out your eardrums like that,” he said.

  Erica put the car in gear. “I know but I like to sing along. It burns off frustration.”

  “I know something else that burns off frustration.”

  She ignored him.

  He slumped fully into the bucket seat. He must have been shit in bed otherwise she’d have been all over him. Was that why she didn’t want to talk sex with him—she didn’t want to offend him on the off chance he got his accounts back?

  Three days ago he wouldn’t have cared why a woman wanted to fuck him, simply that she did. Now it was the only thing he could think of.

  Something rang. Erica jerked as if it were a siren. Her gaze shot to the mobile phone in the change compartment beneath the stereo. The name Tina lit up the LCD screen. She exhaled—a grumpy sound.

  “Your sister?” Drew asked.

  She gripped the steering wheel tighter and pointedly ignored the phone by glaring out the windshield. “Yes.”

  “You’re not going to answer it?”

  “She probably wants me to babysit.”

  “You just babysat last night.”

  Erica shrugged. “She doesn’t care.”

  “Just tell her you aren’t going to do it.”

  “It’s not that easy. She’ll lay a guilt trip on me—” She cut herself off as though she’d been about to explain what her sister had to hold over her.

  Drew shouldn’t have been disappointed that she hadn’t finished.

  Without warning Erica snatched up the phone. “Hello?”

  He tugged a little Air magic out of the aether and used it to sharpen his hearing so that both sides of the conversation were audible.

  “Brad is going bowling tonight and I have a girls’ night,” the woman on the other end said. “I need you watch the kids.”

  “I just watched them last night.”

  “I know but this is an emergency. We’ve had this planned for weeks.”

  Erica exhaled quietly—a sound of frustration if Drew had ever heard one. “Tonight isn’t good for me. Ask Sally.”

  “It’s girls’ night, that means Sally is going with me. C’mon, Erica, I know all you’re going to do is watch that CSI marathon. It’s your short day. Don’t be so selfish.”

  Drew grabbed the phone out of her hand. Erica’s jaw dropped as he set it to his ear and announced, “Actually, tonight she’s going to do me. Find someone else.” He flicked his thumb over the disconnect button then set the
phone back in the change compartment. “Problem solved.”

  “You had no right to do that!”

  “Someone had to. You certainly weren’t. Why do you let her call you selfish?”

  “You—” Erica halted on whatever angry response she’d been about to give. She released a small puff of air out of her nose. “It’s easier than listening to her whine.”

  “What does she whine about?”

  Erica shot a look at him. “Why do you care? You’re just a one-night stand with a contact list larger than the Stoddard phone book.”

  Why did he care?

  Drew cleared his throat. “You helped me out. I’m trying to help you.”

  Her wary gaze settled on him as she waited at a stop sign. “Our father left me the garage and the house when he passed. Tina got money in the will. She feels like I got the lion’s share.”

  “Your father’s decision makes you selfish?” Drew laughed. “She has no idea what selfish is.”

  “I bet you know all about it.”

  He might not have heard her statement if he hadn’t magically shored up his hearing. But he had. And it made him think.

  Did he know about being selfish?

  His world had crumbled when he discovered every woman he’d been with had only been after his money or his clout. But the truth was that he’d used them for his pleasure every bit as much as they’d used him.

  Yes, he knew about being selfish. He’d written the book on it.

  Chapter Seven

  Erica didn’t dare let on that she was pleased Drew had gotten her out of babysitting. Thanking him was out of the question. He shouldn’t have butted in like that, especially given she’d have to explain it to Tina.

  Drew wouldn’t stick around past tonight. He’d use her shower, eat her food and disappear in the morning.

  “I’d offer to cook but I don’t know how,” he said. “We have a housekeeper who does all that. I never had to learn.”

  She needed the reminder of their insurmountable differences after all the help he’d given at the shop. For a yuppie, he’d been shockingly good at manning the garage’s phone. His explanation had made sense—he was good with people. A player would have to be.