Naughty Karma kc-7

by Vivi Andrews

  At the first touch, her power jacked into his and Ronna gave a startled yelp, jerking her hand back.

  Holloway lunged forward, the gun clearing the holster, but Karma didn’t even blink.

  “Ronna?” she asked, the low rasp of her voice giving nothing away.

  “I’m fine.” The touch reader brushed a hand across her forehead, huffing out a breath. “He’s a doozie. I wasn’t quite prepared for it.” She put a hand on Holloway’s arm, giving a little shake until he lowered the gun he didn’t seem to realize he’d been pointing at Prometheus. “It’s okay. I’m good now.”

  During the millisecond their skin touched, colors had flashed in Prometheus’s mind like a kaleidoscope on speed, images beyond his control. He didn’t want to think about what she might have seen.

  “Are you all right to continue?” Karma asked.

  Prometheus almost said no before he realized she was speaking to her reader.

  “Yeah,” Ronna assured her. “Yeah, we’re good to go.”

  He would have objected that no, they most certainly were not, but Ronna had already grabbed his hand again, gripping it between both of her small, soft ones. This time there was no crazy kaleidoscope crash through his brain. Just a hum beneath his thoughts, a tingle where her fingertips brushed his skin.

  “Ask,” Ronna intoned in a voice devoid of emotion.

  “Have you ever knowingly or directly harmed any of my people?” Karma’s voice cracked out, aggression in every syllable.

  He wanted to lie—tempted to see if he could fool the reader—but he didn’t have the balls to test Karma on this one. “No. Never. I don’t intentionally harm anyone. That isn’t what I do.”

  It was the bald truth—though not due to any virtue lying dormant in his soul. Magic was a vengeful mistress. If he abused her, used her to harm anyone, that harm would come back on him threefold. In spite of what he’d said to Ronna about liking it rough, he wasn’t that masochistic.

  He didn’t cast curses. He created them, packaged and sold them, but he didn’t need the universe to bitch-slap his ass to know that actually casting bad juju was the mother of all dumb ideas.

  “Truth.” Ronna’s single word seemed to hang in the room.

  He felt Karma’s energy shift, the tension draining from her even though her posture didn’t change a single millimeter.

  “Do you have any plan, intention or desire to harm any of my people?”

  “None.”

  “Truth.”

  Another near invisible easing shifted the air around Karma. “Have you lied about any aspect of what you want me and my people to do for you?”

  Time to test the reader. Prometheus pumped energy into his shields and projected honesty for all he was worth. “No.”

  “Lie.”

  Shit. Prometheus’s internal flinch stayed internal. All Karma and her gun-toting guard dog saw was a cocky smile and a can-you-blame-me shrug. “It’s what I do.”

  Again Karma didn’t move a muscle, but he sensed…disappointment? He’d expected anger or even a smug self-satisfaction that she’d been right about him, not this feeling that she’d hoped for better from him, even as she expected the worst.

  “What do you really want from me?”

  “Your help reclaiming my heart. I didn’t lie about that.”

  “Truth.”

  “What kind of help specifically?”

  “Locating my heart, summoning Deuma and breaking her ties to me so I live to see November.”

  “Truth.”

  Come on, Karma, he silently urged. Be satisfied. Don’t push it.

  “Is that all you want from me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lie.”

  Damn it. He couldn’t get anything past the damn reader.

  Karma gave him a long, exasperated look before asking, “What else are you trying to get from me?” with the air of a woman who wouldn’t stop asking until she had wrung every last drop of the truth from him.

  He couldn’t let her get that far. There were pieces of the truth he didn’t want her to see. Like the fact that she could strip him of his powers without killing him, leaving him disgustingly normal for the rest of his all-too-natural life. Or the fact that in the last couple months he’d set in motion a few other get-her-attention disasters that could blow up in her face at any moment.

  But how did you make the queen of the universe back the fuck off? What else did he want from her? Truthfully?

  “Sex.”

  Karma made a sharp, choked noise.

  “Truth.”

  Chapter Eight

  Truth’s Consequences

  Karma didn’t do flustered. Poised, controlled, that was her. The mere mention of sex didn’t send her into a tizzy like some Victorian virgin. So why the hell was all the blood in her body rushing toward her face, the blush spreading across her chest and down her arms until even her palms heated?

  And Prometheus saw it all. Those eerie jet-black eyes saw far too much.

  He wanted to have sex with her. The idea wasn’t nearly as repulsive as she would have liked it to be. In fact, something rebellious and needy was working its way through her veins, honing in on her core.

  “I see. Ah.” The words came out weak and thready. She coughed, clearing her throat. “Moving on. Will you do everything in your power to ensure that none of my people are harmed in the process of assisting you?”

  “As long as it doesn’t interfere with my own well-being.”

  “Truth.”

  Not an ideal answer, but it was all she could expect from him. “And will you, to the best of your abilities, assist me and my people as I see fit for the next three weeks, as you have agreed to do?”

  He took longer than she would have liked to think that one over. Eventually, answering with a reluctant, “I will.”

  Ronna hesitated. “Truth. I think.”

  “You’re asking about intentions.” Prometheus shrugged. “The road to hell is paved with good ones, but if it helps, I’m feeling about ninety percent cooperative. You aren’t going to get a better offer than that.”

  This time Ronna’s response was instantaneous. “Truth.”

  Prometheus smiled, the curve of his lips a sinful invitation. His wicked eyes kept Karma in his sights—and made it impossible for her to think clearly. She wasn’t this woman, easily manipulated by her hormones. But no matter how many times she told herself that, it didn’t change the fact that a single mention of sex had thrown her thoughts into disarray.

  Not just any sex. Sex with Prometheus, a small voice taunted in her head. What would it be like? What would he be like? His unruly power practically gave her a contact high. What if it were all focused on her, awakening nerves she hadn’t known she had? Heat twisted and coiled low in her abdomen.

  No. She couldn’t think of that now. She needed to focus. What other questions did she have for him? What other lies had he fed her in the last twenty-four hours?

  She’d had a dozen questions neatly organized in her mind, every avenue covered so he couldn’t wiggle through and leave out a chunk of the truth. Now all those questions blurred together into a flustered glob. God, why couldn’t she think straight?

  She wished she could blame him for her distraction, but she was the one who’d pushed. She had asked. She’d practically forced him to confess his attraction. How unethical was that? Yes, it had been accidental, but the purpose of bringing Ronna in hadn’t been to invade his private thoughts. Karma had needed to make sure he didn’t have ulterior motives. That he wasn’t going to hurt her people. Beyond that, she had no right to abuse Ronna’s power to learn more.

  “Do you intend to use the information you gather about me and my people to hurt or exploit us in any way?”

  “I hadn’t planned on it, but now that you mention it, it’s not a bad idea.” He held up his free hand before Ronna could pass judgment on his statement. “Kidding. No, I won’t exploit you or your people, angel. There’s no profit for me in it. No longer t
erm profit, anyway, since you’d probably come after me with a chainsaw if I harmed a single hair on a single pretty little consultant head.”

  “Truth.”

  That would have to do. If nothing else, she would hope his fear of her chainsaw-wielding skills would keep him in line. “All right. We’ll stop there for now.” Ronna released Prometheus’s hand and Karma gave her a grateful nod. “Thank you for your assistance, Ronna. If you wouldn’t mind staying for a moment longer…”

  “Sure. Do you want us to…?” Ronna pointed toward the outer office.

  Karma shook her head, hoping the gesture didn’t look as desperate as she felt. She did not want to be left alone with Prometheus. “This will only take a moment,” she assured Ronna and Matt before turning to face the man of the hour.

  Prometheus stretched out on the couch, entirely too comfortable in her space for her liking. “I take it I’m being dismissed?”

  “I’ll have work for you tomorrow. If you really mean what you said about assisting me for the next three weeks, you’ll help me now by leaving.”

  “Guess I can’t argue with that.” He rolled to his feet, slowly straightening to his full height. His gaze met hers and held, magnetic, drawing her in and making her feel like they were the only two people in the world, let alone the office, even though Ronna and Matt waited next to her desk not ten feet away. “If you can think of any reason you might need me,” Prometheus said in silky invitation, “any reason at all, you know how to find me.”

  Her heart was still hammering when the door closed behind him. Karma took a moment to collect herself, then raised her chin, shot her cuffs and strode around her desk, gathering more composure with each purposeful step. By the time she faced Ronna and Matt, she felt like herself again.

  “I’ll be brief and then you can get back to your weekend. I apologize again for the necessity.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Ronna said, taking one of the chairs facing the desk, Matt settling down beside her. “You saved Matt from being nagged into retiling the bathroom, and a chance to get a hand on the infamous Prometheus? I wouldn’t miss it. The man was a fascinating read.”

  Karma folded her hands on top of her desk, fighting the urge to lean forward that would betray her eagerness. “You didn’t hold anything back, did you? He was really truthful? And you didn’t…” She hesitated, feeling strangely like her next question was crossing a line even though it was standard debriefing protocol following one of Ronna’s reads. “You didn’t get anything else?”

  “He was as truthful as he knows how to be.” Ronna shrugged. “He could easily have been hiding more. I didn’t pick up any surface thoughts or anything like that, though when I first touched him I did get a few images, but they went by too quickly for me to get a good look. Mostly I got an overwhelming sense of strength from him. Like if mental toughness were athletic ability, he’d be a decathlete.”

  “Any other insights?”

  Ronna frowned, her eyes going distant. “He’s not immoral, so much as amoral. When people are lying to themselves or rationalizing their behavior, sometimes I’ll hear echoes of that, but Prometheus doesn’t seem to know how to second guess himself. Just not wired that way, I guess. He’s very linear.” Her eyes focused sharply and her face lit with a smile. “Like you! He felt very similar to when I read you.”

  Not sure that’s a good thing. “Thank you, Ronna. And Matt. I appreciate both of your assistance.”

  Matt stood, taking Ronna’s hand. “Glad you called us. Can’t be too careful with something like that.”

  No, you can’t. But Prometheus had agreed to cooperate and he didn’t have ulterior motives where her people were concerned.

  Now all she had to do was figure out what she was going to do with him for the next three weeks.

  “No. Absolutely not. No fucking way.”

  Karma stared down her favorite exorcist, waiting for him to complete his tantrum. She reminded herself that she liked Rodriguez, even when he was being a pain in the ass. The tattooed bad boy with a heart of gold had always reminded her a little of Jake. She tried to focus on that now—rather than the fact that he was making her life difficult. Or the throbbing pressure that had been building inside her skull all morning. Her patience was shot, but it wasn’t Rodriguez’s fault she hadn’t been able to get more than twenty consecutive minutes of sleep the night before, plagued by a series of nasty premonitions, including several of the drowning variety.

  She’d called Ciara as soon as Ronna and Matt departed yesterday, determined to warn her to be especially careful in her pool for the next week, but the finder hadn’t answered her phone. That in itself wasn’t unusual—Ciara always ignored her phone when she was working and she kept odd hours. Karma had left a message, telling herself she was overreacting, that she had days before the dream crossed into reality. But the hunch that something was seriously wrong refused to leave her. When Ciara still hadn’t called back by the evening, Karma had swung by her house.

  Ciara was a shut-in. Because of the painful psychic dissonance she felt at the slightest physical touch, she never left her home. But she hadn’t answered the door. The lights were off and no sound came from the massive television Karma knew sat on the other side of the door.

  Ciara was missing.

  She’d called the FBI department Ciara worked with recovering stolen gems and jewelry, but they’d claimed Ciara wasn’t working a case for them now and had refused to put Karma through to her missing finder’s new handler. She’d called Ciara’s house every hour on the hour just in case she’d made it back home. Under normal circumstances, she would have called in her personal cavalry—nothing like having a private investigator for a brother—but Jake was on his honeymoon. As was her other most reliable finder, Chase.

  Which left Karma helpless—a feeling that never sat well with her.

  And now she had a pissy exorcist to deal with.

  Rodriguez switched to Spanish and continued to vent his spleen. Karma waited, thinking longingly of the meditation she would do as soon as she had fifteen minutes to recenter. Rodriguez wasn’t being unreasonable. She was asking him to babysit a man he had good reason to hate.

  But understanding where he was coming from didn’t mean she was going to take no for an answer.

  “Rodriguez,” she said sharply, cutting into his tirade, which had diminished to Spanish mutterings.

  “I won’t do it.”

  “He’s agreed to cooperate.”

  Rodriguez snorted. “And you believe him?”

  “I had Ronna read him. He’s no angel, but he’ll be using his powers for good. For the time being.”

  Her exorcist folded his arms, black tribal tattoos rippling across his forearms. “I won’t trust him. Nothing you can say would make me.”

  “Good. I picked you because I knew you wouldn’t let him get away with anything.”

  “Lucky me.”

  Rodriguez might hate it, but he was the perfect choice. She needed someone to wrangle the slippery warlock and she could be certain Rodriguez wouldn’t take any shit from him. She couldn’t do it herself—not only because she had a finder to track down and a business to run, but because after yesterday she felt the definite need for some distance. Prometheus disturbed her. She needed her calm.

  Her head throbbed, more evidence that she didn’t need this stress, but she ignored the pain. “He has demonstrated a definite knack for handling demons.”

  “Summoning them,” Rodriguez snapped. “Summoning them to harass my girlfriend. And teaching bored housewives to summon them so they can make my life hell.”

  “The control necessary to summon is the same skill needed to exorcise.”

  “I won’t be nice to him.”

  Karma felt a smile quirk her lips. “That’s the other reason I picked you. He’s supposed to make amends. That doesn’t mean we have to make it easy for him.” She reached for a file on her desk. “Apparently there’s a possible nest of mischief demons upstate. Take him
with you.” Rising, she handed Rodriguez the folder.

  He took the folder, shaking his head ruefully, but she knew she had him. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

  She smiled. It wasn’t luck. Rodriguez was reliable. She’d known she could count on him. He started toward the door, but Karma stopped him at the threshold with a last minute instruction. “Rodriguez? Give him hell.”

  Chapter Nine

  The Amateur Boy Scout

  Prometheus arrived for his summons at Karmic Consultants on Monday morning prepared to suck up like there was no tomorrow.

  No ass left unkissed, that was his new strategy. Especially if that ass is Karma’s. This was his chance to play the Boy Scout—since it had become apparent he wasn’t going to get the upper hand unless he earned Karma’s trust, something that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen if he acted naturally. His new plan consisted of bombarding them with so much sweetness and light these Karmic goodie-goodies wouldn’t know what hit them.

  He shoved open the front door with an absent pulse of magic, both hands filled with lattes and muffins that should damn well taste better than ambrosia after he’d paid the GDP of a small country for them at the Starbucks around the corner. You’d think a caramel macchiato was liquid gold for what they were charging for the things.

  On any other day he might have taken the time to drop a hex charm or two on the corporate bastards as a punishment for price gouging, but today he was being a good boy. No matter how much that halo might chafe.

  The ray of sunshine seated at the receptionist desk looked up as the door shut behind him, her brown curls bobbing as she beamed at him with enough cheer it was a miracle rainbows didn’t shoot out of his ass. “Welcome to Karmic Consultants! How can we help you?”

  “I’m Prometheus. I believe Karma’s expecting me.” He flashed his most charming smile and extended a Styrofoam cup of caffeinated temptation. “Nectar of the gods?”

  She ignored the proffered Starbucks manna as her eyes lit up with a blinding enthusiasm rather than any sort of cognitive awareness. Nobody home at Casa Receptionist.