War-N-Wit, Inc. - The Coven (War-N-Wit, Inc. - Book 3)

by Roughton, Gail

  “You mean from my checkered past?” He shrugged. “Nobody ever has.”

  “Which doesn’t mean nobody ever will. Do you recognize them? Especially her? And don’t you dare ask me if I’m jealous!”

  “No, I don’t recognize ‘em. You’re getting tired, aren’t you, and don’t lie about it.”

  “A little, sure, but I’m all right.” And for damn sure I wasn’t so tired I didn’t notice the psychic shield he’d just thrown up.

  “Nope. Main Street’ll be here tomorrow. Let’s collect the crew and head back. Think they’re getting along with each other?”

  Which meant he sure as hell had recognized the woman staring at him and wanted to get the hell out of there. Without it seeming like he did.

  I glanced around, trying to spot Spike and Stacy on the crowded floor. There they were. Surrounded by their private halo of color, now edging past hot pink over to red.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  * * *

  The hotel room wasn’t a bit bigger when we got back, but all Stacy and I really cared about was the shower. We’d stopped smelling beer hours ago, but the residue was sticky.

  “You go first,” I said. Big sisters looked after little sisters. Big sister habits died hard.

  “You go first. You got a lot more directly on you than I did.”

  “Okay, we’ll do it the fair way. Paper, rock, scissors. Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “One, two, three—” I looked down at our hands.

  “Rock breaks scissors,” Stacy said. “You go.”

  “And to avoid tying up the bathroom, we’ll make it a double.” Chad slipped neatly through the door and pulled me in after him.

  “Excuse me?” I hissed furiously.

  He leaned close and whispered in my ear. “Baby girl, we’re in a double room with two other people. For several more days. Got to grab opportunity when we get it.”

  I turned and started the water.

  “Only thing you’re grabbin’ with somebody right outside that door is a shower. And with two other people out there who’d also like to feel clean, you’re doin’ it damn quick.”

  “You’re a fascinating blend of pure lady and wild child, I ever tell you that?”

  “Yeah, frequently. Now move it.”

  * * *

  We all showered the beer residue off and hit our respective assigned beds—which meant extra pillows piled in the middle of the guys’ bed to their complete satisfaction so as to assure no accidental touching. Unfortunately, showers usually revived me somewhat no matter how tired I was. They also had the same effect on Stacy. From the changed rhythm of the guys’ breathing, hot water didn’t have the same effect on them. They were passed out. I stared at the ceiling and tried to wind down. Wasn’t working. Wasn’t working for Stacy, either.

  “Ari?”

  “Yeah?” I braced myself and grabbed the edge of my pillow. From years of slumber parties, I knew what was coming.

  “Gottcha!”

  “Gottcha first!” I rolled and snatched my pillow from under my head, slamming it into Stacy’s pillow before it connected with my face. Both of us perched on our knees and plummeted our pillows against the other.

  “What the hell—” The two large bodies from the next bed sat up at the same time.

  “Pillow fight! You snooze, you lose!” As one, we bounded across the twelve inch space between the beds onto theirs and started pelting. Besides, all the fresh ammunition was on their bed. That male “don’t touch each other” thing. They sputtered, grabbed for pillows, and came out swinging. Pillows flew everywhere, in every direction.

  Calling up memories of too many pillow fights to count, both of us swerved and twisted Ninja-style. The guys didn’t have a chance. Then I lost my balance and fell full forward onto Chad. On the way down, I knocked Stacy off balance and she smashed into Spike, knocking him flat onto the bed and landing full on top of him. The aura of color surrounding them pulsed and turned crimson. So did Stacy’s cheeks. Spike’s Las Vegas desert tan was too dark to turn crimson, but there was some extra color there, for sure. Stacy sprang back up, grabbed a pillow and started swinging again.

  Since we were making so much noise ourselves, the vibrations filtered through first. Pounding feet shook the walkway in front of our second floor room.

  Then we heard the outside screams.

  “Coward! Why’d you want it, you ain’t man enough to handle it?”

  “Help! Get her off me!” Strangled coughs and gasps for breath. “Crazy bitch tryin’ to fuckin’ kill me!!”

  “You wanted it, honey, you got it! Too much for you? Come back here and take it like a man!”

  “What the hell—” Stacy bounded to the edge of the bed and fumbled at the lamp, bringing the room out of shadow.

  More voices chimed in from outside.

  “Whoo-whoo!! You go, girl! Show him who’s boss!”

  “Man up, dude! You’re embarrassing all of us! You’re actin’ like a sissy girl!”

  Chad and Spike groaned simultaneously and threw the covers off their respective sides.

  “Shit!” Spike, impressive biceps highlighted by the tight white t-shirt and sleep pants, navigated towards the chair by the door where I’d seen him stash his medical bag. “Owww!” His bare foot smashed into the corner of the bed.

  “What the hell is going on out there?”

  “First case of attempted death by boobs of the night, probably,” Chad said, throwing the door open.

  “Death by boobs?”

  A naked biker was on his knees in front of our door. His equally naked lady friend stood in front of him, bent over slightly. She clasped his head tightly between her impressive chest equipment. The gasps for breath reached new heights of desperation.

  “Are those real?” Stacy whispered in awe.

  “Not in a million years,” I whispered back.

  “Okay, honey, okay!” Chad grabbed her hands and pried the laced fingers apart. “You’ve proved your point, let him loose!” The biker slumped onto the walkway, gulping and wheezing. Spike knelt beside him on the concrete and opened his bag.

  “Steady, guy, c’mon, you’ll live. Probably.” He pulled out his stethoscope and started checking the man’s heartbeat.

  One of the bystanders catcalled. “Oh, man, check this out! The doctor from the Cartoon Channel! Dude’s got Spongebob Squarepants on his stethoscope!”

  Spike ignored him and kept listening.

  “Got Mickey Mouse in there, too, Doc?”

  Satisfied, Spike whipped the stethoscope out of his ears with the practiced ease of all doctors. “Okay, guy, your heart rate’s settling on down. Don’t think you’re about to have a heart attack. This time.” He reached into his bag and pulled out his penlight. The penlight had Mickey Mouse perched on the top.

  “Shit! He does have Mickey Mouse! What’s next, Doc, Donald Duck?”

  Spike steadied the top of the man’s head with one hand and flicked the light quickly back and forth between his eyes.

  “And if you don’t throw any more booze or speed into your system tonight, you might not die of an overdose, either, but I don’t guarantee it.”

  “Doc! C’mon, I said you got Donald Duck in that bag, too? What kind of doctor are you, anyway?”

  Spike replaced his stethoscope and penlight and closed his bag. Then he stood up. Slowly. Taking his time, he straightened to his full six foot, six inch height. His wide shoulder span seemed to increase. He walked over to the catcaller. The five foot, ten inch catcaller.

  “Pediatrician. You got a problem with that?”

  “Nope. Not a one.”

  “Didn’t think so.”

  Chad and Spike came back in the room, clicked the lock, and flipped the inside safety bolt firmly.

  “Death by boobs?” I asked again.

  “Yeah.”

  “That happen often?”

  “All night, every night. All over Daytona during Bike Week.”

  “Lovely.”
<
br />   Chapter Seven

  We didn’t wake up till almost ten the next morning.

  “So—in the last twenty-four hours, Chad’s been arrested, we almost had to sleep on the street, we’ve had beer baths and pillow fights, and we’ve prevented a homicide by boobs. What’re we goin’ to do today?” I asked over breakfast.

  “Baby girl, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you weren’t really enjoying Bike Week.”

  “Well, it’s been a new experience, I’ll give it that.”

  “Let’s ride the Loop,” Spike suggested. “Give the girls some fresh air and a little sanity.”

  “That’d be nice,” Stacy said. “The Loop?”

  “A twenty plus mile run around the area. Great ride, great scenery. Very peaceful. You can’t come to Bike Week and not ride the Loop. It’s a law. And this time of day, it might not even be real crowded. Lots of folks still sleeping off last night.”

  “Sounds like a nice change.”

  We picked up the Loop at its start at Granada Bridge in Ormond Beach and ran down John Anderson Drive. Then we ran into an outdoor Cathedral of overhanging branches. It was glorious. Blue sky peeked through green. No other riders in sight. Peace on earth. Right up until the moment Spike swerved and the Harley Road King came so close to hitting the pavement my heart almost stopped. Chad turned in a half circle and came back around to the Dark Angel.

  Spike straightened it up and came to a stop just off the road. His foot hit the kick-stand harder than a place kicker desperate for the winning field goal. He flung himself off the seat and charged into the middle of the road.

  “What the fuck, man! You crazy? Just standing there in the middle of the freaking road?”

  I looked at Chad. Chad looked at me. We looked back at the road again for confirmation. Nope. Nobody was there. Stacy flung herself off the bike and raced to Spike, grabbing one of the arms he was flinging wildly for emphasis.

  “Spike!”

  “Help? Buddy, you got a mighty peculiar way of asking for help! I have a lady on the back of that bike, she’d have been hurt if I’d had to lay that bike down!”

  “Spike, calm down!”

  “He coulda gotten you hurt, Stacy! Anybody that stupid, I’m not worried about him getting hurt, woulda served him right!”

  “Spike, you couldn’t have hurt him. He’s dead.”

  “No, he’s not! He’s standing right there—” Spike broke off. “He is standing right there. Isn’t he?”

  “For you and me, yes. For Chad and Ari, nope, they can’t see a thing.”

  Spike looked over at us, eyebrows raised.

  “Guys? C’mon, you see him! Don’t you?”

  Chad laughed. “Nope. But that’s okay. Because I can finally tell you—Welcome! To the world of magic! Always knew sooner or later you were gonna turn it loose. Guess our own little private coven’s growing.”

  Spike backed slowly away from the dead man only he and Stacy could see. He shook his head.

  “No. Mom always said I had it. I never did. I don’t. I don’t want it.”

  Stacy leaned her head against his shoulder in sympathy.

  “Darlin’, some things—you just don’t have a choice about.”

  “But you see him? That’s your thing? Like Magic Man and Ari just know things?”

  “It’s one of my things. We all have kind of a mix of things. So do you. And now that you’re open, you’ll start finding out what your other things are.”

  “And you’ve been seeing dead people how long?”

  “All my life, darlin’. Don’t remember when I didn’t. And we see them for a reason. Now, this guy needs help. So let’s go help him.” She called over to us. “Y’all excuse us a few minutes? We need to have a talk with our visitor here.”

  “Take your time. We’ll be right here.”

  * * *

  Chad pulled completely off the road by the Dark Angel. Spike and Stacy stood on the opposite road shoulder having their conversation with the dead man we couldn’t see.

  “What’s his name?” I asked.

  “Whose name?”

  “The missin’-in-action agent you’re supposed to keep an eye out for. Because you know damn well we just found him.”

  “Yeah, poor son-of-a-bitch. Damn it.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Name’s Blake Stanton. Undercover as Buck Johnson. His handle was Badass Buck.”

  “You’re kiddin’ on that, right?”

  “Badass?” Chad smiled faintly. “No, I’m not kidding but he wasn’t enough of one. Obviously.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Whose name?”

  “The woman who didn’t recognize you in the jazz club last night. Yes, she did. You recognized her, too.”

  “Baby girl, I told you I didn’t.”

  I cocked my head and speared him with a stare.

  “I know what you told me. And you disappoint me. Your first outright lie. Had to happen sometime, of course. It’s just I never really believed you would. Flat-out lie to me.”

  “Baby girl—”

  “Drop it if you don’t want a full out throw-down right here and right now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I looked back at Spike and Stacy, still in earnest conversation with thin air. I caught a movement back in the tall grass just off the shoulder.

  “Oh, shit!”

  “What?”

  “Look in the grass behind them. Wait a minute—there!” A flash of black tore through the grass and back into the trees. “Micah. Hell. Now we’re really in trouble.”

  “Honey, I told you, that’s not Micah.”

  “I know what you told me. You told me it wasn’t Micah in Savannah, either, and look how that turned out!” I whipped out my cell phone and hit Buddy’s number back at Pine Whisper.

  “Buddy? Hey!”

  “Miss Ariel, you ain’t got nothin’ better to do in Daytona than call and check up on an ol’ man?”

  “Stop that, you’re not an ol’ man. Don’t know what we’d do without you. Just wanted to check on the animals. Thor miss us?”

  “’Course he does, you know better’n that. ‘Bout kicked me off my own bed last night, he was sleepin’ real restless. But he’s fine. Listenin’ to your voice now, got his head anglin’ toward the phone.”

  “Hey, baby! We’ll be home soon, you be good for Buddy, okay? Buddy, when’s the last time you know for a fact you saw Micah?”

  “Micah?”

  “Micah. You know. My cat. The big black one.”

  “Wellll—you pin me down to it, I guess—last time I’m certain sure is about five minutes after y’all pulled out and hit the road.”

  “You didn’t see him eat supper with the other cats?”

  “That cat’s a law unto his own self, Miss Ariel, you know that. I put some food on the deck for him, too, but he hadn’t eaten it as of this mornin’.”

  “Figures. Do me a favor and call me if you see him, okay?”

  “Okay. But you know he comes and goes as he pleases, he’s fine. That big boy can take care of himself, you don’t need to worry about him.”

  “Oh, I know. I’m just trying to keep an eye out for what else he’s planning to take care of.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Don’t mind me, Buddy. Give Thor an extra chew bone tonight.”

  “Sure thing. Y’all have fun and be careful.”

  “Thanks. See you soon.” I hung up and turned back to Chad. “Guess you heard all that.” Buddy’s wasn’t the quietest voice on the planet.

  “Yeah, but Micah could be anywhere on Pine Whisper. He only stays around the house when you’re there.”

  “That’s because when I’m not there, he’s staying around where I actually am.”

  “He’s not—”

  “Savannah.”

  “Got a point. Guess the conference is over, here comes the Ghost Squad.”

  The Ghost Squad walked across the highway and joined us. Spike looked more than a
little shell-shocked. I sympathized. Realizing one was a “person of power” wasn’t the most calming experience of one’s life.

  Stacy took the lead.

  “His name’s—”

  “Blake Stanton,” Chad said.

  “Yes. And he’s your—”

  “Missing in action undercover rider with the Dark Rulers.”

  “Didn’t think that’d surprise you.”

  “Dark Rulers?” I raised my eyebrow. “Funny. That was the name on the jackets last night, those folks you didn’t recognize who didn’t recognize you. Don’t suppose you’d care to share the name of the gang you rode undercover with all those years ago? And of course it couldn’t possibly have been the Dark Rulers.”

  “You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you?” my husband asked.

  “So glad you recognized that, I was sure as hell trying hard enough.”

  Stacy glanced back and forth between us, surprised at the tension. Spike reached down and took Stacy’s hand. I was pretty sure he didn’t even know he’d done it. I was equally sure she didn’t realize she’d tightened her fingers around his. The crimson aura around them danced and pulsed.

  “So what do you want to do now, Magic Man?” Spiked asked.

  “What does our friendly ghost want?”

  “He wants the job finished. He wants the Dark Rulers taken down. And he wants his colors buried. His real ones, that is. Left ‘em with the club. He’s a DragonHawk out of Washington state. I mean, in his real life, not his undercover. Told him I’d call his club, at least we can do that much for him.”

  “Poor bastard came a long way from home to die.” Chad’s eyes had that cold, far-away look they always had on the hunt. “And you can’t take the Dark Rulers out. You can chop ‘em down, at least the big boys. Over and over again. Just like you can with the other gangs, with the cartels. With any organized crime. Don’t matter. Don’t mean a damn. They just—come back. With new big boys. Sometimes even with the ones you already took down.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well,” I said, “we can make sure he gets buried, can’t we? Him, I mean, not just his colors. Surely he told you where his body is?”

  Spike and Chad grimaced.

  “Welllll—” Spike started and hesitated. “Thing is—”