by Anya Breton
The clatter of metal wheels was the sign he needed. Erica’s creeper rolled forward, catching the witches’ attention. He twisted the knobs on the headlights and the attached light bar. One witch hopped out of the creeper’s way; however the sudden spill of light meant he didn’t see the oil puddle. Down the guy went onto his ass, smacking his head.
Erica’s contraption whooshed with compressed air. Metal clattered to the ground a half-second later. The female witch shrieked as nuts and bolts sprayed like buckshot across the parking lot.
Drew hit the ignition and then the gas pedal. He smacked the female head-on, knocking her under the bumper. But the larger witch rocketed into the air before Drew could do anything else.
He parked the vehicle and charged out.
“Go after him,” Erica called from the side. “I’ve got these two.”
“They’re not hu—”
“I know. But they’re unconscious. Go before we lose him, Drew.”
He didn’t want to leave her, not until their attackers were trussed up and he knew she was safe.
“Trust me,” she said.
Drew hesitated a moment longer. The thinning of her lips forced a nod from him. “I do.” He fished in his pocket for his phone. “Take this. Wait ten minutes. If I’m not back, text the garage’s address to the entry for Cleaners with the note that there are two Air witches, possibly three. Got it?”
Erica emerged from the shadows so she could fetch his phone. “Got it.”
He grabbed hold of her shoulders, bringing her against him for a fierce kiss—a kiss the way he needed rather than the gentle way she’d taught him. She melted into him before stumbling back.
“Go,” she said.
He shot into the air before he could change his mind.
Anxiety and fear had distracted Erica when their attackers appeared. She wasn’t distracted when Drew soared into the air like a firework. He’d said these were his people but until that moment it had been an abstract idea.
He really wasn’t human.
And neither were the bitch and the male on the ground.
Erica hurried to the female first because she was closest. Though Drew had hit the black-haired woman, he hadn’t run her over. She merely lay beneath the bumper, whimpering in pain from Erica’s canon surprise.
There was a good deal of pleasure to be had by slapping the used handcuffs over the bitch’s wrists. Erica kicked her in the head for good measure.
She did the same with the guy who had fallen over the creeper but rather than handcuffs, he got stainless steel exhaust clamps for restraints. Erica chained the pair of witches together and used another clamp to fasten them to the sabotaged lift post.
Now she only had to wait.
Three minutes passed with no change to the captive witches. There was also no sign of Drew.
Erica backed the pickup into the bay. She flipped off the headlights and light bar then spent a few moments checking for dents and scuffs in the paint within the garage’s interior lights. She’d have to buff the fender but otherwise the thing looked as good as it had when dropped off.
She began the task of vacuuming up the nuts and bolts she’d spewed from the makeshift canon. Too quickly, they were collected in a bucket. Finally she hosed down the oil on the parking lot.
Still there was no change. She bounced Drew’s phone between her hands, upset that she’d allowed him to leave it with her.
What if he was hurt somewhere and needed her? How would she find him?
She paced the garage for another minute. Anger built with each step she took. Between what she’d recently learned and what she’d pieced together from eavesdropping, she was certain Drew was in this situation because of his mother. How could the woman do this to her own son?
Erica stared at the phone. Three minutes until she was supposed to text these mysterious Cleaners.
First she had some questions for someone.
Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through Drew’s recent calls. So many female names. He really was a scoundrel. But that wasn’t a reason to be fighting for his life.
Amanda Haizea. The entry stuck out because it was one of the only ones to include a full surname. Erica smashed her thumb on it.
And then waited.
The woman hadn’t answered Drew when he called from this phone yesterday. Would she answer today?
A feminine drawl so like Drew’s greeted Erica. “Andrew, what fantasy have you concocted this time? Is Priestess Kranz herself trying to murder you?”
“It isn’t a fantasy, you know,” Erica said.
“Who is this?”
Amanda’s whip-sharp voice only made Erica angrier. “This is Drew’s mechanic. The vanilla human who was handcuffed in her garage for a half hour earlier by some bitch witch who is trying to kill your son. Now he’s off trying to catch the last remaining member of the trio of assassins.” Erica’s voice shook with fury. “Does it make you happy to know your son is fighting for his life? Is this the lesson he was supposed to learn?”
Amanda snorted. “Now he’s resorted to paying for cheap theatrics?”
“You’re a piece of work, lady.” Her next breath came out ragged. What did Drew have to do to get through to his mother? Be attacked before the woman’s eyes? “I’m not a paid actress. Google me. My name is Erica Pearce. I own Pearce Auto-body in Stoddard—the shop that towed Drew’s Ferrari when it broke down yesterday on the side of Route 9. He gave me his phone before he went after the third witch. In one minute I’m supposed to text someone named Cleaners with my address and the news that there are two, potentially three Air witches. I don’t know what any of that means but I bet you do.”
This time there was no snort or derisive comment.
“I’ll admit that Drew is an asshole,” Erica said. “He spent the first hour in my shop calling a few dozen women, looking for someone to hook up with. He was allergic to cleaning up after himself until I shouted a bit. But then he pitched in and did a great job calling my customers. He tried to help me with an ex-boyfriend problem even though I didn’t want his help.” Erica sighed because she was rambling on in her fear and righteous indignation. “Whatever he did to disgrace your family can’t possibly be bad enough to deserve being attacked by four different people in one day. This rogue thing you did to him, fix it, or so help me god, I will find out where you live and I’ll knock you unconscious exactly like I did the bitch who dared handcuff me to my own garage.”
Erica clamped her mouth shut, concerned she’d gone over the line. Amanda didn’t respond. Erica checked the phone for ticking numbers. It was past time to contact the Cleaners but the call hadn’t dropped and the two bars of service were steady.
“What happened to the other two witches?” Amanda asked in what sounded like a neutral tone.
“We disabled them. I’ve got them chained to my lift.”
“Are they conscious?”
Erica glanced over at the slumped figures. “No. Why? Were you going to make me put one of them on the phone because you still think this is one of Drew’s fantasies?”
Amanda sniffed haughtily rather like Drew might. “My son has taken nothing seriously for three decades.”
“So you sent assassins after him? You are so lucky you’re in Manchester and I’m here.”
“You’ve slept with him,” Amanda said as though the idea had recently occurred to her.
Erica went rigid.
The woman’s tone grew slow, incredulous. “After he called a few dozen women looking for a hook-up, you still slept with him. And now you’re defending him? What did he do to earn your devotion?”
“He came back to save me when he could have run to safety. But this is less about devotion than it is about one woman calling out another on her horrific stupidity. This is not how you handle a family squabble. Fix this. And you had better hope Drew arrives back safely.”
“Or what?”
“Don’t push me, lady. I might be human and you might be something else, but I
’ve already subdued three of you and that was with limited time and resources. If I have to come there, I’m going to be prepared.”
Erica disconnected the call before she did something worse. Though what would be worse than threatening Drew’s mother?
“What was that?”
Erica yelped as Drew stepped into the light. He dropped an unconscious figure onto the concrete. Blood stained his polo but he was upright and alert.
She gestured at the gash on his cheek. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just a few cuts and brushes. Nothing worse than the punch to the jaw I received earlier.” Drew jabbed a finger at his phone. “Who were you talking to?”
The desperate look that had been in his eyes before he left was gone now. In its place was suspicion. What did he think she’d done?
Erica swallowed down unease. “I called your mother.”
His golden brows winged up. “You did? What did you say?”
“I bitched her out.” She winced. “And I…I may have threatened her.”
Drew choked. “You…” He stared at her. And then burst into laughter. “You threatened Amanda Haizea? The Haizea dragon?”
Was his hooting a good thing or an insult?
“Yes,” Erica said.
“What did she say?”
“I hung up before she could say much.” Erica avoided his gaze rather than admit she was a little ashamed Amanda had guessed her weakness where he was concerned. “How do you tell if you’re a rogue?”
“There’s a hidden website.”
“Can you get to it from any computer?”
Drew nodded. “Any computer with internet access.”
Erica started for the office. “Use this one.”
Drew waited on the other side of her counter while her computer booted up. He needed the barrier because his self-control was shot. She’d vanquished two of his foes and called the lady dragon that was his mother. Few members of the Underground were as brave and badass as Erica Pearce. All he could think of was fucking her again.
Erica gave a little gasp—a sound that tugged at his balls. She snatched up his phone from where she’d set it on the counter and then scrolled through his contacts.
“I didn’t get a chance to text Cleaners because of calling your mother,” she said as a flush flooded her cheeks.
Aer.
He gripped the dated orange counter rather than vaulting over it. An image of fucking her on top of the surface took center stage. His cock thickened despite his throbbing jaw.
The fantasy halted when he realized he too had forgotten something. Drew left her in the office. He moved the third witch on a cushion of Air toward the other two slumped at the base of her lift.
“Check for the rogue thing,” Erica said at the door. “I’ll clamp the asshole with the other two.”
His lips curved at her bossiness. But only he could check the website. And he didn’t know how to use any of her tools.
They switched places. Chains rattled in the garage while he clicked around on the computer. He impatiently waited for the pages to load. Slow computer or slow two-bar town internet? He’d need to know for when he brought his laptop.
Wait.
When he brought it? When had he decided to stay?
Drew glanced toward the garage door as it rattled closed.
It had been before she called his mother. Back when he vowed he’d become worthy of her if he lived through the attack.
He clicked another link. This was excruciating.
Erica came into the office, boots tapping on the linoleum floor. She peered over the counter but said nothing.
“It’s still loading,”
She nodded. “I’ve been meaning to try cable now that it’s available.”
Finally the page loaded. Drew scrolled through the names listed in alphabetical order. There were no H surnames. Had he been removed?
“It’s not there.” He faced her. “I don’t know if it ever was. But it’s not there now.”
A shrill ring made them both jerk. The cordless phone on the counter lit up. That number was familiar. He almost reached for it before recalling this wasn’t his place.
“It’s my mother,” he said.
She snatched it up. “Pearce Auto-body.”
Drew called on the aether so he could hear both sides of the conversation. His mother’s stiff voice filtered back into his ear.
“Ms. Pearce?”
“This is Erica Pearce.”
“I phoned the Cleaners to verify your report. They confirmed Drew was attacked earlier. Drew’s rogue designation has been removed.”
Erica’s chest shook up and down, each breath harder than the last. He didn’t know her well but that looked furious.
Why was she angry? She’d accomplished the impossible—she’d gotten through to Amanda Haizea. He was no longer kill-on-sight. This was cause for celebration.
His mother spoke up. “Did my son return from the third…assassin?”
Erica caught his eye and mouthed, Are you here? He nodded.
“He did,” she said.
“May I speak with him?”
Again she looked to him. He held out his hand for the phone. She set it in his palm.
Drew released his hold on magic so her volume would be normal. “Yes?”
“You’re no longer marked as a rogue witch,” Amanda said. “No one else should attack you. If they do, they risk the full brunt of the Aer Association’s laws.”
He said nothing because though he was relieved he wouldn’t be attacked, his mother hadn’t apologized for putting him through the ordeal.
“However,” Amanda continued. “I’m not reinstating your accounts until you turn your life around.”
“I don’t want your money,” he said, hardly believing his ears.
But it was the right thing to do. Taking her money entitled her to control over his life. She would always expect him to do what she wanted. After this tribulation, Drew no longer wanted anything to do with her.
“I certainly don’t want to become what you think I should become,” he said. “That’s how I grew into what I am now.” Drew laughed—a hollow sound that carried a wealth of meaning. “I should thank you. You opened my eyes. But it wasn’t my disgrace I discovered—I knew all about that. The disgrace I discovered was yours, Mother.”
Drew hit the end call button, feeling better than he had in years.
Chapter Twelve
“I’m so sorry,” Erica whispered.
A sad smile formed on Drew’s lips. “I’m not. I needed that wake-up call. I’m only sorry you had to be dragged into all that. And I’m sorry I can’t pay for the tow on the Ferrari.” He waved a dismissive hand at the garage. “You can sell it to pay my bill and for the damages to the garage.”
“Sell your Ferrari?” she squeaked and cast a longing look at where the wall hid the Italian masterpiece from sight. “Your bill was eighty bucks! And there isn’t much damage to the garage.”
Drew shrugged in his flippant way. “I can’t afford the thing anymore nor is it practical out here in the boonies.”
She stared at him, mulling over the words. No, a Ferrari wasn’t practical in the boonies. But he didn’t live in the boonies. He was from Manchester.
How did she ask him to explain that statement without insulting him? Sometimes he was touchy.
Erica nibbled her lip. “You’re…planning to stay?”
He held her gaze. “You said you’d help me find a job stocking groceries.”
She had said that. But that wasn’t what he wanted. “That car is worth three hundred thousand dollars. You wouldn’t need to work stocking groceries if you sold it.” Erica bit her lip, glancing covetously at the garage. “But it’s such a shame. It’s a beautiful car.”
“Then I won’t sell it. I’ll find a way to make ends meet even if it means stocking the general store.”
She let out a small moan of frustration. “You’re right though. A Ferrari isn’t practical at
all. You could sell it and buy something with four-wheel drive for the winter. The boonies don’t get cleared as fast as the city does.” She hesitated. “But you don’t want to live here. You’d be miserable. There’s nothing to do.” Erica looked away. “And you’d go through the female population before the summer was out.”
He was silent for several seconds. Erica didn’t dare glance over to see why.
“I guess I deserve that,” he said. “I didn’t exactly make the best first impression. But that was…”
“Yesterday,” she finished for him.
“Yesterday is worlds away from today.” He came around the counter exactly as he had last night. Drew leaned in as though he would kiss her. But he stopped short. “Yesterday I’d have slobbered all over you and assumed you’d fuck me simply because I was hot, rich and owned a Ferrari. Now I know how to kiss you properly and that you’re far too independent to give me the time of day.”
“Plus you stink like the pigsty up the street when it hasn’t been cleaned for a week.”
“Why did you give me the time of day, Erica?”
Erica shrugged with nonchalance she wasn’t feeling. “It was a one-night stand.”
His gaze darkened. “The night isn’t over yet.”
No. It wasn’t over. But she couldn’t handle being with him again. Not without risking her heart. She forced a smile. “By the time your Cleaner friends get here and we both shower, it will be.”
“It will be at least a half hour. That’s plenty of time to sneak into the backroom. I’ll even let you stuff tissue in your nose so you won’t have to smell me.”
“I can’t,” she blurted out. “I’m sorry. You’re just…” Erica couldn’t bring herself to say the words on the tip of her tongue.
“Bad? An inveterate womanizer who can’t provide for himself let alone you?” He sounded as bitter as he had while he’d spoken to his mother.
Erica’s bleeding heart kicked in. She set her hand atop his on the counter. “I don’t think you’re bad. But you’ve met Jared. I can’t deal with another asshole ex.”
He knitted his fingers through hers. She made the mistake of looking back. His hazel eyes ensnared her. “I’m not going to be your ex, Erica.”
