Karma

by Nadine Nightingale

  “A girl like her would never hang with a loser like you.” Zac Efron wannabe laughs, throwing a napkin at Pimple Face.

  I should stay out of this, but I hate bullies. Grabbing my iced coffee, I get up, shake my hips Shakira-style, and head over to the nerd. “A girl like me,” I say, running a finger over his pimpled face, “would love to hang with a guy like you.”

  He stares at me as if I’m some kind of alien. “Really?”

  I give him a kiss on the cheek. “Really,” I whisper in his ear.

  “What the hell?” one of his moron friends mutters.

  “Did she just kiss him?” another asks.

  “Shut up,” Zac Efron wannabe yells.

  But nerd kid couldn’t care less about their stupid comments. His aura beams the brightest, proudest orange, and I can feel what he feels—hope.

  “Manda?” Alex shouts from across the street.

  Shit, if he saw this, I’ll never hear the end of it. Winking at nerd kid, I amble back to the Knights Inn.

  A smile touches Alex’s eyes as I walk up to him. “Not exactly your type,” he says.

  Rolling my eyes, I sigh. “What do you know about my type, Alex?”

  He shrugs. “Enough to be certain he isn’t on your radar.”

  He really thinks I’m that shallow, huh? “News flash, jerk-face,” I snarl. “In a couple years, he’ll be a rich dude with a Bentley in his garage. So tell me—how is that not my type?”

  Alex frowns. “You’re a lot of things, Amanda, but a gold digger isn’t one of them.” He studies me closely, and a smile touches his eyes. “Ain’t nothing wrong with being nice, you know.”

  He thinks I did this out of the goodness of my heart? I liked him thinking I’m shallow better. “I don’t do nice,” I say. “Now shut up and give me the key to my room.”

  Alex hands it over. “You can take a shower. Then we’ll hit the road.”

  Leaning against the wall, I cross my arms. “Did you track his phone to a certain address?”

  He kicks a few stones. “That’s the thing,” he says, never meeting my gaze. “The battery of Jesse’s phone must have died before I got an exact location.”

  My jaw drops. “So this search and rescue mission is more like a round of blind man’s bluff?”

  He purses his well-formed lips and says nothing.

  I throw my hands over my head. “Oh, that’s just great. How the hell are we supposed to find him if you don’t even know his last whereabouts?”

  Insecurity blackens his blue aura. “We’ll hit the hotels, and start there.”

  He can’t be serious. Bakersfield is one of the largest cities in California. “Are you insane? There must be hundreds of hotels and motels. Do you have any idea how long it will take us to canvass them all?”

  He clenches his jaw. “Do you have a better idea, Miss Know-it-all?”

  I straighten my shoulders. “Sure.”

  Jerk-face tilts his head to the side and arches a brow. “Well, what are you waiting for? Spill it.”

  Isn’t it kind of obvious? Jesse came to see a bocor, so we should look for him. “What do you know about that voodoo priest?”

  His husky voice trembles. “Not much. Just that he’s from around.”

  “You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” I growl.

  Alex narrows his eyes at me. “Drop the bitch act, Manda.” Raw emotion hardens his god-like features. “Jesse took his notes with him. I guess he was afraid I’d come after him.”

  What good is it to work for the FBI if he doesn’t know shit? I put a hand on my hip. “Some hunter you are.”

  He scrubs his face, clearly tired of the argument. “You’re not helping.” His voice is laced with guilt and worry.

  I’m not Alex’s biggest fan, but I hate to see him hurting. “Let’s talk to the parents of the abducted kids then,” I suggest.

  He gives me an incredulous look, and when I don’t laugh, he shakes his head. “Great idea, genius. We don’t even know if Jesse’s disappearance is connected to that. Besides, what exactly are you going to tell them? Hey, I’m Agent Remington, and this is my witch friend. Could we ask your possessed kid if it knows a voodoo priest?”

  “Douchebag,” I say, nudging him in the ribs. “I’m trying to help here, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  He throws his head back. “Look, I’m not trying to be an ass. But unless you come up with a better idea, we’ll go with mine.”

  Alex’s plan will never work, but when I see the sadness in his eyes, I don’t have the heart to tell him. Jesse is his Achilles heel. Without him, his life isn’t just empty, it’s senseless. “Fine,” I hiss. “Have it your way, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Trudging into my room, I shut the door behind me and drop my bags on the weirdly-colored carpet. I am so damn tired, and the ivory sheets are so fucking tempting. All I want is to lie down, close my eyes, and get some sleep. Instead, I stumble to the bathroom and strip. Life sucks.

  My muscles relax under the hot water, but the sadness in Alex’s eyes haunts me. The last time I saw him like that was the beginning of our end.

  ****

  I slammed the mini-bar shut, frustrated with my sudden lack of self-control. What the hell was I thinking? I’d come to his room to end things, not to screw him without goddamn protection.

  Hating myself for the lack of lady-balls, I’d opened the tab to get some water when his hoarse, sleepy voice startled me. “Manda, what are you doing? It’s three in the morning.”

  The table bumped the backs of my thighs as I turned around. “Nothing. Go back to sleep,” I muttered, hoping he’d leave it at that.

  He searched my face. “Wanna talk about it?”

  For the longest time, I just stared at him. His perfect abs, the mesmerizing face, the fatal eyes—fuck, the guy was perfection. But this—us—was wrong. He was a hunter. I was a witch. He was gentle, good, and caring. I was a selfish, evil witch resented by my own mother.

  “Amanda?” He stepped forward until we were eye to eye. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” I barked. “Just go back to bed, all right?”

  He moved forward until we were chest to chest. “Sure about that?” His hands trailed down my arms. “The wall is so much more fun,” he said, kissing the edge of my lip.

  My senses reeled. All I had to do was tell him we were over, but one touch, and I was a wet mess that hungered for more. “Alex,” I moaned as he reached for the hem of my shirt. “Please.”

  Kissing the other side of my lip, he smiled. “Please touch me? Please leave me alone? Gotta be a bit more specific, Manda.”

  When I didn’t reply, he pulled my shirt over my head and pushed me against the wall. Cupping my ass with rough hands, he trailed kisses down my neck.

  I pressed my palms against his chest and wrapped my legs around his waist. Tension built in my belly as I felt his hard-on against my black lace panties. What in God’s name was wrong with me? One second I wanted to get as far away from him as possible, and the next I wanted him buried inside me. “Alex,” I choked out. “This is a bad idea.”

  He carried me to the table. When he set me down, his eyes locked with mine. “With you, everything seems to be a bad idea.” His gaze dropped to my lips, and before I could say anything, his mouth covered mine.

  He kissed me so hard, my head bent back. Desire spread through my body like a blazing fire, and no matter how hard I tried to fight it, I needed him.

  Running my hands through his thick hair, I pressed my legs against his rock-hard ass and pulled him closer. “Alex,” I whispered against his lips. “I want you.” My chest rose and fell with excitement and nervousness.

  “Say that again,” he ordered in a husky voice.

  I pulled his boxers down. “I. Want. You.”

  The words broke the chains that restrained the beast inside him, and within seconds he was a wild, hot mess. Hauling me to the edge of the table, he shoved my panties down. His lips curled into a cocky grin.
“I never thought I’d say this,” he said, with hungry eyes. “But I think I want to keep you.”

  What? My heart cramped as the words replayed in my ears. Want. To. Keep. You. I wasn’t a keeper; I was a fucking love-her-and-leave-her. Hadn’t he gotten the message?

  “Manda? What’s the matter?” he asked when I stiffened.

  Barely able to breath, I shoved him away. “I need to go.”

  His eyes went wide. “What?”

  I jumped from the table, grabbed my shirt off the floor, and put it on.

  “Amanda.” He caught my wrist. “Talk to me. What the hell is going on?”

  I’d played with fire, and now I had to live with the scars. Spinning around, I drew in a deep breath. “We had a deal,” I said, voice calm and steady.

  He searched my face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “This”—I pointed to us—“was supposed to be easy and fun. No strings attached. Those were your words, Alex.”

  He sighed. “We’ve screwed each other for two months, spent every freaking hour together, and had a pretty good time. Call me crazy, but I’d say that’s a little more than mindless sex.”

  I shook my head. “This is crazy. You are crazy.”

  “Why the hell are you so scared of love, Amanda?”

  “Love?” I laughed. “I’m selfish, arrogant, reckless, and irresponsible, remember? Love isn’t in my vocabulary.”

  “No, Amanda.” He took a step toward me. “You pretend to be all those things, but I’ve seen you. The real you.”

  I felt a nuclear explosion of anger in my gut. Who did he think he was, Dr. Phil? “I don’t pretend. Ever.”

  “Yeah?” His eyes darkened as he closed the small gap still between us. “Then what the fuck were you doing just now?”

  His proximity did crazy things to my heart, and I knew I had to get the hell outta there before I let him convince me we had a shot. “I don’t do relationships, Alex. You know that.”

  He put two fingers under my chin and forced me to look at him. “What’s the difference between what we had and a real relationship?”

  I pulled back and swallowed the lump in my throat. “What we had was a good time and pretty awesome sex. A relationship includes sharing problems and secrets, Alex.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Everything,” I snapped. “I get it. You think you know me and all. But you really don’t.” I cupped his cheeks. “Trust me, Alex, you wouldn’t like the real me.” I gazed into a malachite ocean of sadness. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” he said and walked away.

  ****

  I wrap a towel around my wet body, and wipe the steam off the mirror. There’s a loud knock on the front door.

  “It’s open,” I shout.

  “Manda?”

  “Be right there,” I reply. Pulling my wet hair into a loose bun, I check myself out in the mirror. I have black bags under my eyes, and my skin is a little rougher than usual, but other than that, I look as stunning as ever.

  “Manda, you coming or what?”

  Wearing nothing but a towel, I yank the door open and give him a look. “Can’t a girl take a shower?”

  Alex’s jaw drops as his gaze slides over my body. “What the hell, Amanda?”

  A crooked smile tugs at my lips as I see the glowing red aura around him. “Shy doesn’t suit you,” I bitch as I walk to my bag.

  “Jesus.” He throws his hands in the air. “Just get dressed.”

  “Your wish is my command.” I drop the towel, and Alex blushes like a teenager.

  “Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you have a moral compass? You know, like normal people?”

  I grab a pink lace bra and panties from my bag and grin. “Hey, you were the one who said I should get dressed. I’m just following orders.”

  He could turn around or avert his attention, but his gaze is glued to my body, and his aura is drenched in lust and desire. It’s sort of ironic. He hates my guts, but he still wants to screw me.

  “Pass me the jeans?” I say.

  He tosses them over and shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

  I shrug. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me in all my glory before.”

  His jaw hardens. “Doesn’t mean I want to see your glory again,” he snaps and stomps out of the room. “I’ll wait in the car.”

  My inner bitch and I high-five.

  Chapter 7

  It’s almost sundown when we barge into the Vagabond Inn, the last hotel on the visitbakersfield.com website. I’m starving, my feet ache, and Alex is on his worst behavior. Each time he heard the words, “Sorry, but there’s no one here with that name,” his mood got worse, and little by little he had turned into the not-so-incredible-version of the green monster, smashing down anyone standing between him and finding Jesse.

  He stomps toward the hotel clerk like a man on a mission, but I grab his arm. “Alex.”

  “What?” he hisses, ogling the poor bastard behind the counter.

  “Why don’t you let me do the talkin’?” I try to sound casual, but there’s an edge to my voice I can’t even out.

  Yanking his arm out of my grip, he frowns. “We don’t have time for your sweet talking, Amanda.” He stalks to the check-in desk, and I follow like a lost puppy.

  Awesome. I must have left my dignity in the Salty Dog Tavern.

  “Hello, my name is Miguel. How can I help you?” the cute, dark-haired desk clerk says. His adorable Hispanic accent puts a smile on my face.

  “Hi,” I say, leaning against the wooden counter. “We—”

  “Are looking for this man.” Alex slams a picture of Jesse on the counter. “Have you seen him?”

  Miguel looks from the picture to Alex. His clueless aura confirms my worst fears. “I don’t think so, sir.”

  Wrong answer, pal.

  Alex’s unconcealed anger charges the air. Fisting his hands, he meets Miguel’s nervous eyes. “Check your computer. His name is Jesse Remington.”

  Miguel looks at me, and when I nod, his fingers fly over the keyboard. “I’m sorry, sir. There’s no one here with that name,” he says, eyes still on the screen.

  Tapping his fingers against the counter, Alex watches the poor guy with eagle eyes. “Try Bucky Barns.”

  I bite my lower lip, choking back the laughter crawling up my throat.

  Alex gives me the evil eye. “Just shut up, okay?”

  I pretend to lock my lips with an invisible key.

  “I’m afraid there’s no Bucky Barns either.” Miguel’s Adam’s apple trembles. The poor bastard wants to be anywhere but here right now.

  Jerk-face’s muscles stiffen. “What about Jules Winnfield?” he asks, leaning over the counter.

  Miguel’s eyes widen. “The Pulp Fiction character?”

  There’s a spark of madness in Alex’s eyes as his fists connect with the counter. “Got a problem with that?”

  Sweat runs down Miguel’s forehead. Alex isn’t just hot. He’s tall, brawny, and his sheer presence is intimidating. “No, sir,” he croaks, voice trembling.

  “We don’t have all day,” jerk-face grumbles, pointing to the keyboard.

  Skimming through the guest list, Miguel’s dirty brown aura verifies my assumptions; no Jules Winnfield either. My gaze slides from Alex’s fisted hands to his tense shoulders. I have to do something before he beats the poor guy up. Folding a hand over his arm, I look him in the eye. “He wasn’t here.”

  Miguel nods. “She’s right, sir. I’m sorry, but—”

  Like a crazy person, Alex grabs the guy by the collar of his shirt and pulls him over the counter. “Sorry, my ass. Someone must have seen him. It’s not like a man can vanish into thin air.” Tension and anger settle over the check-in area like a ragged blanket. The end of the world must be nigh, ’cause I’ve never seen Alex lose his temper like this.

  Seizing hold of his jacket, I yank. “Okay, who the hell are you, and what have you done to
Alex?”

  “Let. Go,” he says, murder on his face.

  I hold his gaze. “So you can beat the crap out of the poor guy?” I cock a brow. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  Miguel’s eyes go wide with fear. “I-I swear, the man you’re looking f-for isn’t here,” he stammers.

  “Alex.” I take his face in my hands. “You gotta pull it together, man. We’ll find him, I promise.”

  Alex relinquishes his grip on Miguel, and jerks free of my hands. “Don’t act as if you care, Amanda.”

  From the corner of my eye, I see Miguel reaching for the phone. He’s going to call security, or worse, the cops.

  Spinning around, I flip my gorgeous hair over my shoulder and put on my best fake smile. “I’m sorry. He’s got some daddy issues. Thanks for your help, though.”

  Miguel clenches the phone and nods. “Just get out, please,” he says, his voice impregnated with terror.

  I haul Alex’s stupid-ass butt outside.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” he yells the second the door slams shut behind us.

  I burst into laughter. “My problem? What the fuck is your problem, Alex? Do you think acting like Rambo will bring Jesse back?”

  “But doing nothing will?” he counters, voice hard as steel.

  Crossing my arms, I glare at him. “I told you this was a stupid idea.”

  A muscle in his jaw pops. “At least I had one.” He thrusts his fingers through his hair and kicks the wall. “Fuck, can’t you just do a spell or something?”

  A spell? Now it’s official; Alex has lost his marbles.

  I roll my eyes. “You of all people should know spells are fuckin’ dangerous.” Drawing in a deep breath, I sigh. “But there might be something else I can do.”

  He casts me a sidelong glance. “Yeah, what’s that? Killing a virgin to read her blood?”

  I shake my head at his sarcastic comment and extend my hand. “I need pen and paper.”

  “Writin’ a letter to Santa or what?”

  One more word and I’ll kick him in the nuts. “I’m going to ask the devil to drag you to hell. Pen. Now.”

  “This better be good,” he grumbles, handing me a blunt pencil.