SweetlyBad

by Anya Breton

  Coward!

  Selfish wastrel.

  Disgrace to the family.

  Drew fisted his hands into his hair as the silent recriminations taunted him. A hero he was not. When given the choice between helping himself and helping another, he invariably picked himself. Look where it had gotten him—destitute in the middle of the woods.

  Would saving Erica be enough to show his mother he’d changed?

  It had better be.

  * * * * *

  “It’s more than six miles from my place to here,” Erica told the raven-haired beauty, who stared out of the office windows with a keen eye. “Even if Drew ran eight-minute miles, he can’t make it here in a half hour.”

  “Drew could be two blocks away and it wouldn’t matter. He isn’t going to come.” The woman gave a sardonic laugh. “He’ll save his ass before he’ll save yours.”

  Discreetly Erica checked her restraints. She’d been handcuffed to the railing on the step between the office and the garage. The cuffs were sturdy—no flimsy sex-toy cuffs for this woman. Though Erica could walk to either end of the bar, she only had a few inches of give side-to-side.

  Maybe if she could keep the woman talking, someone would drive by and see the lights were on when they should have been off. That became more noticeable by the minute as the sun slid toward the horizon. “Then why did you threaten him?”

  “Because I want to flush him out of this Podunk town. Then we’ll get him.”

  Dread trickled into Erica’s gut. “We?”

  “We—there are three of us.” The woman sent her a sharklike smile. “We’ll catch him no matter which way he goes.”

  “Why do you want to catch him so badly?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “So he didn’t fuck you and then leave you for another woman?”

  The woman faced her. A malevolent gleam flickered in her dark eyes, hinting Erica had hit the nail on the head. Then she shuttered her expression.

  The woman lifted her nose and sneered. “I’d ask if that was experience talking but you’re too fat for him. He only dates models and beauty queens.”

  Erica made herself laugh. “Like you?”

  She sniffed haughtily. “I was once Miss New Hampshire.”

  She snorted. “That had to be a long time ago.”

  “You vanilla bitch!”

  The woman charged across the office in a clatter of clacking heels. Her talon-like claws dug into Erica’s throat. With the pinching grip, she drew Erica up onto the tips of her toes. Erica’s wrists went taut in the cuffs. The cool metal scraped and chafed against her skin.

  Her attacker snarled at eye level. “I’m more beautiful than you could ever hope to be. I’ll still be more beautiful when I’m in my twilight years and you’re dead of a heart attack from all the shit you shovel in that bloated gullet you call a mouth.”

  Though Erica winced in pain, she wasn’t about to let that insult stand. She hadn’t survived bullies in school, countless barbs sent by her sister and asshole boyfriends for nothing. “You know what the difference between me and you is?”

  “Forty pounds and a beauty regimen?”

  Erica leaned back and brought her head down. “I don’t need cuffs to subdue you.” She lunged forward, smacking her head into the woman’s nose.

  The bitch’s hands shot up as she howled in pain. But she wasn’t subdued. Not yet. Erica followed up the attack with a kick at her three-inch heels. The bitch stumbled, ultimately falling to her knees, where Erica smashed her elbow into the bony portion of her nose. Still the bitch wasn’t subdued—the fact that she moaned in her balled-up pose on the floor meant she was conscious.

  Kicking her might do permanent damage. But it wasn’t as if Erica could throw a punch—not cuffed to the railing. All she had at her disposal was her legs. And if Erica didn’t knock her unconscious, the bitch would only get back up and do something worse than cuff her to a metal bar.

  Erica pulled her boot back, winced and then kicked out with what she hoped was enough force to knock her attacker unconscious without killing her. The moaning quieted. Erica’s conscience screamed.

  * * * * *

  Drew touched down on the roof of Pearce Auto-body, breathless and sweating like a sumo wrestler touring Egypt in July. Air-jumping across the tree line for six miles in twelve minutes had been reckless, especially at dusk. A vanilla human could have spotted him.

  He’d been willing to take the chance. Besides, he’d always heard an adage that the human mind created plausible explanations for implausible things it witnessed. A male rocketing through the air with no visible propellant would definitely count as something implausible.

  Drew floated to the ground behind the garage. He softened his steps, creeping around the side until he could see into the office windows. A figure was sprawled on the floor. Drew’s stomach dipped in worry.

  He was too late. Erica was unconscious, perhaps dead because of him. She’d done nothing but be the tow truck driver unlucky enough to pick him up.

  “Criminy,” a female said. “Could you have gotten sharper cuffs, you bitch?”

  Erica? Relief rushed through him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

  If she spoke then who was unconscious on the floor?

  Drew hurried the remainder of the way, streaking past the windows to the office entrance. Erica gasped and then went quiet as if she’d seen his shadow. He tugged on the doorknob. It didn’t budge.

  While picking the lock was possible, he knew an easier way to get in. Drew walked the six feet to garage bay three. He called on a little more Air magic, focusing it into a punch he directed at the big red button on the other side. The door rolled along its track. He ducked under the first chance he got.

  And discovered Erica cuffed to a metal bar outside the office.

  She stared at him as though she’d never seen him. “Drew?”

  This was familiar. It had happened an hour ago. This time he wasn’t going to stomp out in a huff.

  But he didn’t stop the bitterness in his voice. “You didn’t expect me to come?”

  “She said you wouldn’t. And…I live six miles away. How did you get here so quickly?”

  Drew glanced at the slumped woman. Black hair, trim body—that described at least an eighth of the women he’d been with. He needed a look at her face. But first he needed to free Erica. And get answers.

  “What happened?” he asked rather than lying about how he’d made the trip.

  “Somehow she got in while I was in the back.”

  Erica left off the part about how she’d been talking to his voice mail. He didn’t offer it while he examined how to unfasten the cuffs. They looked like law enforcement grade. He could probably pick the lock with Air if he got a schematic of the locking mechanism but she’d know he’d done something out of the ordinary if he did. There had to be a key.

  “As soon as I spotted her, I couldn’t breathe,” Erica said. “It was like someone had knocked the air out of me, except I passed out before it came back. I woke up cuffed to this bar.” She rattled the restraints against the metal as though he needed help figuring out which bar. “She got close enough for me to headbutt her in the nose. Then I knocked her over. I kicked her in the head for good measure. I don’t know how long she’ll be out. We need to call the police.”

  “No.”

  “Drew, she said there are two others waiting for you to escape Stoddard. We have to call the police.” Erica swung to the end of the bar, angling her leg toward the counter where the witch had dropped the phone. Her foot was short by at least six inches.

  No matter how many witches waited, the police weren’t the answer. They were no match for members of the Underground, who could disable bullets with the flick of a wrist. “No police.”

  Erica’s eyebrows drew down into a narrow V. Her voice went low. “I don’t care if these people are like the mafia. We need help.”

  “I can fix this.”

  First things first.
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  Drew crouched beside the witch, lifting her head so he could see her face. She looked vaguely familiar, as most female witches in New Hampshire did. This could be a former lover or merely someone he’d met in passing. His memory wasn’t good when it came to the majority of the fleeting affairs he’d had.

  He patted her down, looking for two things—identification and a key to Erica’s cuffs. He found the key in her right front pocket.

  “Did she tell you who she was?” he asked as he worked the small key into the lock.

  “You don’t recognize her?”

  He lifted his gaze, meeting hers. There was an accusation in her mocha irises. One he couldn’t refute. “No.”

  Erica’s nostrils flared as the censure darkened her eyes. “She implied you’d…been together.”

  “I’ve been with many women.” The icy, callous answer of a playboy.

  She’d already made her mind up about him. It was in her reproachful glare and the way she was shocked every time he appeared. Shame made him drop his gaze—shame that he’d considered leaving her here to save his hide.

  He glanced at the downed witch and swallowed a sick laugh. Erica hadn’t needed him. If she’d had a phone in her pocket or one at hand, she’d have summoned the police to her and been free. Erica was self-sufficient.

  He envied that about her. Aer, he envied just about everything about her. She didn’t have a grand estate like Haizea House, a supercar or millions of dollars but she was happier than he’d ever been.

  “And you don’t remember any of them?” she said despite knowing the answer.

  “I recall a few memorable women.” He caught her eye, implying she was one who stuck in memory. “But largely, no. None have made an impression on me.”

  Until now.

  He’d always thought being poor was his biggest fear. Now he knew otherwise. Rejection terrified him. The fear sent him from woman to woman, always leaving before they had a chance to discover he was a spineless dullard living off his family’s wealth.

  The cuffs he struggled with reminded him of what his lifestyle had cost him. The wealth he’d taken for granted was gone. He had no true friends. He was estranged from his family. And the one person who had helped him even though he’d had nothing to give her had been attacked. Drew was responsible for all of that.

  He didn’t want to be spineless any longer. And he wasn’t stupid. He was lazy.

  But no more.

  None have made an impression on me—the statement echoed in Erica’s mind.

  That ass. Drew had used her tow truck without paying for it. Slept on her cot. Screwed her on the thing—destroying it in the process. He’d eaten her food, drank her soda and gotten her tangled up with the mob. But she hadn’t made an impression on him?

  He clicked the key in the lock. The cuffs snapped open. Erica pulled her wrists free. She rubbed her stinging skin for a pair of seconds.

  Drew turned his back on her, striding for the counter. She followed close behind. Exactly as she’d expected, his hand closed over her cordless phone. He flipped it over and began hitting numbers.

  Erica closed her fingers, tightening them into a fist as she inhaled. “Drew.”

  He turned, eyebrows lifted in question.

  Her right hook caught him in the jaw. The resounding crack echoed against the pressed concrete wall and glass windows. Drew stumbled back, slamming his side on the counter.

  “How’s that for an impression, you asshole?”

  Erica’s knuckles stung like hell but her pride felt better. She strode for the backroom, where she’d dropped her purse and keys. Behind her Drew released a sound rather like a whimper.

  She didn’t care. He deserved that. And he was no longer her problem.

  He stood at the office door when she emerged with her things. Drew gripped his left side as though it pained him.

  She didn’t care.

  Erica forced her eyes forward. “I’m going home. You, that bitch who attacked me and your car had better be gone by the time I open on Monday or I’m calling the police and sending them after you.”

  “Erica,” he called after her.

  His pitiful choke tested her resolve. What if he’d broken a rib when he hit the counter? Could he die from that sort of injury? Should she offer to take him to the ER?

  What was wrong with her?

  She stomped the remainder of the way to the car, uncaring that the garage door was wide open. He’d managed to get it open without a key. He could close it without one.

  “Erica.”

  She clomped faster.

  Drew caught her shoulder. Erica swung out with her free arm but caught nothing but air. Damn his quick dodge.

  The grim set of his features didn’t bode well as he stepped forward, invading her personal space without releasing his grip. She tugged backward, desperate to avoid him and whatever that expression threatened. He slipped his hand behind her neck. She resisted his pull both physically and mentally.

  His mouth descended on hers before she could evade. It wasn’t soft, gentle or even teasing like she’d taught him. It was brutal and demanding, a kiss to rob her of everything but the blood pounding through her veins. Smooth lips worked over hers even as he thrust his tongue into her mouth, devouring her as though he were starved. It was a passionate kiss, nothing like the boyish slobber he’d first given her.

  Drew crushed her body to his. An obvious erection pressed at her belly. He groaned deep in his chest and tore his mouth from hers. She barely kept from whimpering from the loss of it.

  “You made an impression, Erica.” The husky declaration was almost believable.

  “With my fis—”

  He gripped her cheeks, forcing her to look him in the eye. “You made an impression without even touching me—the only impression I’ve ever had and it scares the fuck out of me.”

  “But I’m not your type.”

  “You are my type—the type I’ve never let myself have because I thought I was supposed to want something else. But you, you’re what I want—what I need.” He tilted his pelvis, grinding his cock against the moist heat her jeans hid. Drew buried his head in her bodice, mumbling, “I want to fuck you…right here.”

  Erica only then realized where here was. “No. This is the parking lot of my business! Anyone could drive by. That’s the main road into town! Besides, there’s a bitch in the garage you still need to deal with.”

  Drew slumped against her. “But I’d much rather show you how much of an impression you’ve made on me.”

  The erection he rubbed along the seam in her jeans implied she might have made a temporary impression. She wasn’t willing to believe anything more than that. Too many signs pointed to the guy being incorrigible.

  She dug her fingers into his hair, hauling him back by it. “The bitch in my garage, Drew. And her two friends waiting for you outside town. You’re not getting anything else until that’s dealt with.”

  He exhaled grumpily.

  “If you’d just let me call the sheriff—”

  “No,” Drew snapped and straightened upright. “I’ll deal with it.”

  “Like you dealt with the last guy?” she called after his retreating figure.

  “Yes.” He reached the edge of the garage and halted. “Fuck.”

  Erica stilled as well. “What?”

  “Get in your car, Erica,” he said in a low tone without turning. “Drive home. Better yet, go to your sister’s.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because the bitch you knocked unconscious disappeared. Now go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere!” She stalked across the parking lot in a righteous huff. “I’m the one who knocked her unconscious. And I’m also responsible for saving you from the last guy who attacked you. You need—”

  Drew grabbed hold of her forearm. “If she’s missing then she’s alerted her friends of my whereabouts. There will be three of them. I need you to go somewhere safe.”

  Erica wildly shook her head. “
If there are three of them then you need me here. Two against three is way better odds than one against three.”

  “You can’t help—”

  “I’m not leaving you, Drew.”

  How dare he try to take on the hero role now? She’d done the saving. She’d more than shown she could hold her own. The stubborn Neanderthal needed her.

  But rather than shout any of that, she heard herself exclaim, “I’ll never be able to live with myself if I go and something happens to you.”

  His mouth came down over hers, hard and twice as needy as the last kiss. They were panting when he tugged away. “And I’ll never be able to live with myself if you stay and something happens to you. This is my fight. These are my people. Please, Erica, just go.”

  “I’m not afraid of the mob. I can help—”

  “You can’t help,” he burst out in frustration. “This isn’t the mob. They’re not human! Your punches aren’t going to stop them from hurting you. They don’t need to get close to do harm.”

  She stared at the agitated clenching of his fists and reddened wrinkles on his forehead. His words had been clear. When she should have scoffed at him for speaking the ridiculous, she instead discovered the explanation for why fanciful things had begun occurring when he turned up.

  Now she understood how he’d managed to get into her locked garage, to knock Jared on his ass with only a look and to travel six miles on foot in less than fifteen minutes.

  These were his people. They weren’t human. He wasn’t human.

  Chapter Ten

  “Fuck,” Drew said once again when Erica’s skin went ashen.

  He hadn’t meant her to find out this way. There was no taking it back now. And there wasn’t time. Three witches were on their way. He didn’t know what flavor they were—had no idea how to defend against them. Even if they were Air witches as he suspected, it had been ages since he’d had to flex his magical muscles. He wasn’t sure he could save himself let alone both of them.

  “Please. Go where you’ll be safe. They only want me.”

  Her chin rose. That was not a good sign.