by Ashlyn Chase
“I want to hump like wild bunnies.”
He chuckled and nodded. “We might. But not here and not now. I want you in my bed. I want the time and privacy to satisfy you properly.”
“I don’t think there’s anything proper about what I want to do to you.” She let her hand drop and felt around for the zipper that his swollen cock threatened to burst.
Vic shuddered and had to step away. “I don’t think you know what you’re doing to me. I’ll take you right here, and take you hard, if you don’t stop. Your customers will think all hell is breaking loose. Can you wait a little while?”
“I think we’d better. I can make a lot of noise, and something tells me you’re going to make me scream.” She smiled at the huge bulge in his leather pants. “It’s been a couple of years for me. Let’s go back out to the shop,” she said.
Vic ran his knuckles over his mouth and nodded. “I need a minute.”
Michele winked and walked out.
She was waiting on a couple of young customers when he returned. “It looks like we’re fresh out,” she was saying.
“Teen Witch is so popular we can barely keep any on the shelves.” Savern pulled out an order form and asked for their names and phone numbers.
Vic spotted another young teen across the room. He watched her use the distraction to pocket something that looked like a black statue in her oversized, filthy, Army jacket.
Vic snuck up behind her and grabbed her arm. The girl jumped and struggled to get loose.
“Let me go!”
Michele whipped around to face him. “Vic, what are you doing?”
“Stopping a crime in progress.” He stuck his free hand out, palm up, toward the petite, black-haired girl.
“I didn’t do anything!” She would have been pretty except that her skin was so fair she looked anemic, and that made the dark circles under her eyes more apparent.
“You were shoplifting.”
“Was not.”
“Don’t even try to say you were going to pay for the thing in your left inside pocket,” Vic growled. “Now hand it over.” If only I could roll the footage from the surveillance cam.
The young, would-be thief stopped wriggling and heaved a huge sigh. She dug into her deep pocket and produced a black, wax figure of a man.
Michele raised her eyebrows and scrutinized the girl. “That’s for a binding spell. Do you know how to use it correctly?”
The girl remained silent.
“If you use it to harm another, you could harm yourself in the process. Did you know that?”
Vic gave her arm a subtle but meaningful shake. “The owner asked you a question, miss.”
Michele frowned at him. “I’ve got this, Vic.” She put her hand on Vic’s arm and he let go. Michele guided the girl to a private corner where she lowered her voice to a silken whisper, and they conversed privately.
After a few moments, tears formed in the girl’s eyes, and she blurted out, “My father. I needed it to bind my father. Please don’t call him and tell him I tried to steal something. He’ll kill me!”
Michele’s forehead wrinkled and she asked, “You don’t really think he’ll try to hurt you, do you?”
The girl’s voice quivered. “Yes.”
Savern had taken care of the paying customers, and they were headed out the door with a small paper bag. She approached Michele and the girl. “Problem?”
“I don’t know. It seems to me like this young woman has a big problem and needs our help.”
The girl burst into gut-wrenching sobs. Michele reached out and pulled her into a hug. “I don’t know what’s happened to you, hon, but we know plenty of women who’ve had to magically bind a bully.”
“Yeah, too many,” Savern added.
“Have you had to do it? Does it work?” the girl asked.
Michele and Savern looked at each other. “It works,” Savern said. “As long as it’s done properly, to help all concerned. Not to harm anyone.”
Vic couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. That little con artist had them both completely fooled. Why in the world didn’t they know that sometimes the benefit of the doubt wasn’t deserved—like now?
Michele must have caught him rolling his eyes when she looked over at him. Her face, which had spoken volumes in patience and compassion one moment, turned into a frown that said, “I’m dismissing you.” She turned her back to him.
Savern reached over and stroked the girl’s shoulder-length straight, black hair. “It’s okay, hon. You can tell us. What’s been going on?”
She sniffed and stepped back. “I’m sorry. I’ll buy it later when I have the money, but I really need it.”
“How are you going to use it?” Savern asked.
“I can look it up on the Internet.”
Michele grimaced. “I wouldn’t trust the information you get from the Internet. There’s plenty of misinformation out there. If you cast the spell incorrectly, it could be disastrous.” Michele pulled away enough to look at the girl’s face. “Maybe we can help each other.”
The girl stopped quivering and stared up at Michele, her eyebrows raised.
Michele rested her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “How would you feel about working here after school to earn lessons and supplies?”
“Really?” She looked from Michele to Savern and back again.
“Savern, are you okay with giving her a job on a trial basis?”
Savern nodded. “Sure, as long as she tells us her name and shows us ID. We could use some help. She should be all trained by the time I go on maternity leave.”
Vic slapped his forehead.
“What kind of helping would I do?” the girl asked.
“Out here in the store. Michele would have to do all of the readings in the back room, of course. That takes years of practice.”
“So, if I give you my name, how do I know you won’t call my father as soon as I leave?”
Vic snorted. “How do they know you won’t rob them blind?”
The girl looked from Vic to Michele to Savern. She shook her head, and said, “I won’t. I promise.”
“We believe you,” Michele said, throwing Vic an angry glare over her shoulder.
“What’s your name sweetie?” Savern asked.
“My name’s Kip Bellerose. I have a social security card in here.” The teen dug through her backpack.
Vic shook his head. They were ready to trust this little juvenile delinquent with their livelihood. The only trial this girl needed was in the county courthouse. They probably had some sort of stupid spiritual reason for what they were doing—spit-polishing their Karma, or something.
He made sure that Michele didn’t have to turn around to know how he felt. He crossed his arms and let out a loud huff, hoping she’d figure she was being had.
As soon as Michele checked Kip’s Social Security card, she turned to Vic and said in a stiffly polite voice, “I appreciate your help today but we have things under control. I’ll call if I need you.”
He was being sent home. The hair on the back of his neck bristled. In that case it didn’t matter how sexy she was. Sure, just looking at her made his heart race, but now he figured she deserved whatever happened. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He’d let her learn from her own hard experience.
“You might be a little nicer to him, Michele,” Savern whispered. “After all, he’s just trying to help. Security is what he does, and he’s not charging us a nickel for his time. In fact he just saved us a few bucks.”
Michele smirked. “I was being nice,” she whispered back.
Alex wasn’t kidding about his stepdaughter being stubborn and wanting to call her own shots. Vic strode to the door but before he left, he paused. He’d lose the job he was hired to do if she tossed him out completely. And, shit, he could forget about their hot interlude in the back room.
No, he couldn’t. He got another erection just thinking about it.
Failing wasn’t an option. Alex wouldn
’t put up with that. He thought of the money he needed and his agency’s reputation, not to mention the promise of rowdy, lurid sex . . . Knock it off, Vic. Don’t let your libido compromise your job. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob.
Vic looked at the ceiling and let out a deep breath. “Um, Michele, I’ll keep watching for that guy. Call me right away if you see him.” He managed to smile. “Don’t forget, I’m on your side. I promised Alex I’d help any way I could. That still goes.” He winked. “I’ll check in on you from time to time.”
She shrugged and gave him a cool smile. “Suit yourself.”
That just confirmed that he’d fucked up. How in hell am I going to fix this? Vic walked out of the shop and winced.
* * * * *
The following week, tourists from the world over poured into Daytona Beach like they owned the town. The Daytona 500 was the high point of the winter for many local businesses. The Enchanted Broom desperately needed the business and word-of-mouth publicity, but Michele was terrified of exposing herself to Donovan in all the hubbub. She and Savern found themselves handling chaos with all the browsers, shoppers, and tarot readings, several days in a row.
Desperately needing to make enough money to carry them through the off-season, they had to be grateful for every last frantic patron who asked for a lucky amulet or money spell. Some wanted to know if they could predict the winning numbers of the lottery.
A few customers asked for locator spells to meet their favorite driver, and others wanted to know if they could fix the outcome of the race. Some wanted readings and asked who would win as if the cards would spell out a name. One fan even wanted to cast a love spell on one of the drivers.
It was all they could do to be patient with the public under these hectic circumstances. Michele hadn’t anticipated the additional stress of watching out for her stalker too. Savern said that since the readings would take one of them into the back room, Michele should read the cards all day so she would be safer. That would leave Savern to deal with the swarming crowd. Because Michele felt so vulnerable in the store, she let Savern talk her into it.
She’d be exhausted at the end of the day since sustained psychic trance drained a lot of energy.
On a positive note, Vic had become a regular fixture at the shop. She was glad to see he was still interested in her welfare, despite her bitchy reaction to his help. He said he was there to keep a watch out for anyone fitting the description of Donovan Grant. Michele even asked him to keep an eye out for shoplifters, and they soon forgot about their difference of opinion regarding Kip.
Vic seemed to have all the time in the world and said he liked hanging around.
Michele had to admit she enjoyed the flirtations he initiated. She loved his low, sexy voice. His light touches made her tingle. He brushed her hair behind her shoulder when it fell in her face. He often whispered some sweet absurdity in her ear, like, “Where’s the Witch Hazel? Is she as sexy as you are?”
That remark reminded Michele of her powerful witch friend up North. Hazel Meriwether, who was better known as Hanna. Hanna might be someone she could call on for help, but what if even she couldn’t stop Donovan? Michele couldn’t risk putting another friend in danger.
For now, she’d try to enjoy the delightful distraction Vic was providing—without getting so carried away that she’d forget to be careful staying out of sight. It had been about two years since she’d been intimate with a man. Donovan had been her last boyfriend and that had gone down a dark, twisted path.
She had been concentrating on keeping a low profile and building her business, dating and men were the last thing on her mind—but Vic was changing that. It was fun flirting and she was definitely attracted to him—he was the opposite of every guy she’d ever dated. She was always attracted to the slender, brooding types, but Vic was big, open, and outgoing. It was a welcome change.
Even the corniest joke was a relief when he followed it by showing her his teasing grin. She loved that his hazel eyes even twinkled. Stay mad at those playful eyes and impetuous grin? Not possible. At the oddest moments, she’d catch herself having fantasies about him. Dear Goddess, she was craving the great rite. She could almost feel him filling her body with his cock.
It was a crazy-busy Saturday and Vic hadn’t dropped by yet. Just as well. She didn’t have time for flirting. As soon as Michele found a moment to run to the office, she called the number Kip had given her. A loud slurred voice bellowed into the phone.
“What is it?”
“I—I was hoping to speak to Kip.”
“You want Kip? I don’t know where the good for nuthin’ little tramp is.”
At that moment a meek voice came over the line. “Hi. It’s me, Kip. I’m here.”
Michele was apprehensive, but pressed on. “Kip? It’s Michele. Can you come in today? We could really use your help.”
“Sure.”
A loud clunking noise deafened Michele’s right ear, but not enough. The irate male voice demanded to know where Kip thought she was going. Then the phone clicked and Michele found herself listening to a dial tone. She closed her eyes and silently asked the Goddess to protect Kip—and while she was at it, to help Savern and herself survive the day.
She was about to return to the shop when she caught a glimpse of a tall, thin man from the back. Stringy, medium-brown hair hung forward, hiding his face but revealing part of a tattoo on his neck—it looked like the body of a slithering snake. And there was something about the way he stood, stoop-shouldered. Before he could turn around, Michele shrank back into the office and closed the door as quietly as she could.
Was that who she thought it was?
Should she call Vic or wait to see what happened? How long could she stay in the office before Savern went crazy with all the customers in the store? Why did she have to hide like this? For the thousandth time, she cursed the day she met Donovan Grant.
If only she had a closed circuit camera. It could be months before they could afford one of those. Maybe Vic knew where they could get a cheap one. And maybe this would make a damn fine excuse to call him.
She dialed the phone with shaky fingers and tried some deep breathing to steady her voice.
“Vic Matthews.”
“It’s Michele.”
“What’s up?”
“You know those closed circuit cameras that banks have?” Her voice was pitched so high she sounded like a little girl again. “I was wondering if you might know where we could get one cheap.”
“I might. Why? Is something wrong?”
“Well, because I think Donovan is in the shop, but I’m not sure. I’m kind of trapped in the office.”
“I’m already on my way,” Vic said.
“No you don’t have . . .” She spoke to a dial tone again and wished that people could figure out another way to end a conversation.
* * * *
Less than five minutes later, Vic hurried through the front door pushing a customer out of the way as he approached Savern.
“Hey, wait your turn,” said an Amazon of a woman.
Savern looked over at Vic and nodded toward a rail-thin man browsing. He spied the man fitting Michele’s description of Donovan Grant. Vic wore sunglasses and left them on as he watched the suspect bend over the display shelves.
He made a mental note of the items the guy picked up and placed in the basket he carried. Pretending to browse, Vic sniffed the packages of incense. Ugh. Stinky.
A bottle of red liquid labeled “dragon’s blood ink.” Vic couldn’t help wondering how dragon’s blood made it into the world, never mind the shop. The man in question also took wormwood, sandalwood, and chicory and placed them in his basket. Why would anybody need that stuff? Michele would know.
The suspect turned and walked toward another display. Vic watched him carefully. He loaded at least a dozen black candles into the basket now hanging from the crook of his arm. With eyes averted to the crystals, Vic was able to see him stop and pick up one more item
. Poppy seeds. What was he planning to do? Plant a garden? Grow opium?
He seemed to slink to the cash register. The crowd had thinned and he placed his items on the counter. Savern made no eye contact as she rang up his purchases.
Vic waited for something more to happen. When it didn’t and the stranger left, he followed at a distance and watched the withered-looking figure walk across the street and turn the corner.
When Vic returned, he asked, “Is she in the back room?”
Savern nodded.
“Are you all right here by yourself?”
“Fine, but thanks for asking.”
* * * * *
Michele jumped at the loud knock. She hid behind the shoji screens and waited for the door to open. When she heard the click and squeak, her whole body tensed.
A low, familiar voice said, “Michele? It’s me, Vic.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding and stepped around the screen.
“You should probably get a lock on this door,” he said.
“Why? It would only keep my friends out while my enemy could easily unlock it with magic and walk right in.”
Light filled the corridor and silhouetted Vic’s leather-clad, strong body. As he stepped inside, the red and black pillar candles flickering on the table revealed his handsome face. A strong sense of relief washed over her.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Did you see him?”
“I saw someone about 6 feet, 160 pounds, shoulder-length brown hair that hasn’t seen shampoo for a few days, gold hoop in one ear and a snake tattoo on his neck.” Vic closed the door and braced a chair under the doorknob.
“That’s him.” She clutched her cramping stomach. “Where is he now?”
“He’s gone.” Vic strolled over to the futon, sat, and leaned forward on his elbows.
“Michele, why don’t you sit down?”
“I can’t. Too jumpy.” She had to pace but didn’t get very far. As she passed Vic he reached out and grabbed her hand. She snapped her head around and they exchanged intense stares.
