by Amy Boyles
"See?" he said.
"You win."
His head tipped back to his shoulders in defeat. "But we didn't bet anything, so there's nothing for me to win."
I giggled. "What would you have bet?"
He shook his head. "Some other time."
"Must be something embarrassing if you won't tell," I teased.
He twirled me around. "What did you want to discuss with me?"
Now I really wanted to know what he would have bet. Here was the big bad assassin being evasive. "If I tell you, will you tell me?"
"Dip," he said. He squeezed me close and dropped me back. I was down and up so quick I forgot what we were talking about.
Kidding.
"Maybe. It depends on what you need."
I pressed my body against his and stood on my tiptoes to reach his ear. He instinctively bent toward me.
"I need the witch police on standby." He straightened. Deep lines creased his forehead, and the frown he wore made me question whether I should have asked him or not. "You're the only person I know who can contact them. Otherwise I wouldn't be bothering you."
He glared at me. "Why do you need the witch police?"
I winced. "Just ’cause?"
"Not a good answer." I didn't know how much to tell him—how loyal he was to Em. I mean, here was a guy who didn't like witches, yet he was dancing with one. Talk about mixed signals.
"I think I've got a lead on who tried to kill me."
He pulled me close, swayed me to the music. "And who would that be?"
"You only wanted to know what I wanted. You didn't say you needed all the gory details."
He slid a hand down my arm and entwined his fingers in mine. He raised my hand and kicked to the beat of the music. Who was this man? He could dance, throw stars, probably kill a bear with his bare hands—he gave me surprise after surprise.
"I need all the gory details if I'm going to involve them."
"Don't you have a good relationship with the police?"
"Let's just say they don't like guys of my type."
"You mean a killer? Weren't they the ones who hired you?"
The song ended, and we stopped dancing. The crowd erupted in applause, a few catcalling us. I blushed. Roman nodded to them. He wrapped his hand around my waist and nuzzled his mouth to my ear. "Smile for your fans. They love you."
I think I purred.
We returned to our table. The stern look on his face clued me in that his cheery mood had now soured. "I've never needed anyone's approval to be who I am. I have no regrets."
Whoa. I lowered my voice. "Do you think I'm judging you? I don't care what you do, who you've been. You've done what you needed to survive. I can't imagine what you went through as a child, and quite honestly, I don't want to. Your family was taken from you."
"So were yours."
"Yeah, but in an accident." He shrugged. "Oh, so you know the rumors, too—that they were murdered." I flattened my hands on the table. "I don't have any proof of that, and until there is some, I have no reason to believe it. Besides, I have bigger fish to fry. Someone wants to kill me, and they want to do it before the solstice. I need the police ready to make an arrest in two days’ time—Friday night. I need you to do this for me. You're my protector."
He crossed his massive arms against his chest and exhaled. "I'm your bodyguard." He stared around the room and then folded his hands on the table.
I reached across and squeezed his arm. An electric current ran from his skin to mine. I shivered. Focus. "Yes, you're my bodyguard. I need you to help me. I think I know who's doing this, and I need the police ready to make an official arrest."
The waiter arrived with our food. I released Roman and nestled back to my side of the booth. He forked a wedge of burrito into his mouth. "You can have the police there, but there'll be one problem."
I pushed my refried beans and rice together, making a glob of food. I shoveled it onto my fork and then nibbled it off. "What's that?"
He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. "They'll arrest me."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I dropped my fork. "They'll arrest you for what?"
He sighed. "I'm a private person. My past is not something I like talking about."
I rolled my eyes. "Let me guess? And you really don't like discussing it with”—I glanced around to make sure no one was listening—“a witch?"
He smirked. "Why do you need to remind me of that all the time?"
I shrugged. "Maybe it hurt my feelings when you said it. We've spent time together talking, and for some weird reason you danced with me, yet you don't like me."
"What kind of crazy talk is this? Darlin', if I didn't like you, we wouldn't be talking at all."
A piece of bang fell in my eyes. I raised my hand to brush it away, but Roman's fingers slid to the strand and tucked it behind my ear. I glanced at him. The fire in his gaze sent my eyes drifting back over the rest of the room.
I scratched the back of my neck for half a millennium to get the image of his intense expression out of my mind and said, "So tell me why you'll be arrested."
"It goes back to what your grandmother was talking about the other night. Years ago, after I gave up being a witch hunter, I became an undercover agent with the police. My partner and I were investigating a rumor we'd heard that some witches were manufacturing magic."
"Wait. Making magic? How can you do that?"
He looked at his plate and said, "Maybe we should take this conversation somewhere else."
I wasn't hungry anyway. He paid and we left. He glanced around. We stood in a square off Main. Several shops with brightly colored awnings surrounded us. "How about a Popsicle?"
I spied the corrugated-steel-topped building with a sign that read SILVER POPS and said, "Sounds great. They have a watermelon that's fantastic."
So like two teenagers on a date, minus the county fair and a big stuffed animal my beau had won for me throwing balls into baskets, we got two Popsicles and settled on a bench overlooking the town's one and only koi pond/fountain. It performed double duty—you could enjoy the fish and make a wish.
"How do witches sell magic?"
He sucked the edge of his banana-flavored Popsicle and said, "They strip it off themselves. It's complicated and can be messy, from what I hear, but also a very lucrative business. Any witch caught doing it is automatically put to death."
"Yikes," I said.
"Regular folks aren't allowed to know about magic. So if the council discovers a witch has been selling secrets, she dies. It's part of the rules. Didn't Em tell you?"
"No, not really."
"She's sort of scatterbrained for a Queen Witch. Most witches are. Your grandmother isn't an exception; she's more like the rule. You'll find out as you meet more of them."
I licked the bottom of my dripping treat. "Meet more of them? I don't want to meet more of them."
He chuckled, flashing me a grin that made my heart melt. "You have no choice. They'll be coming out of the woodwork wanting to meet you; just you wait."
I toed off my sandals and dipped my feet in the cool water. Golden koi scattered. "Anyway. Back to your story."
"Right. I was dating a woman at the time; her name was Sheila. She wasn't a witch, so she knew nothing about my real life—or my hidden life, as I prefer to call it—and I loved that. I wanted to keep things that way. After what I'd gone through with my family, I wanted to be with someone who didn't know about magic and wasn't tainted by it."
My heart sank. Roman didn't want to be with anyone related to magic. He didn't want to be with me; he was only being nice.
I jutted out my chin and put on my big-girl pants. That was fine, because I didn't have time for a boyfriend anyway. I had a shop to run. Wasn't I forgetting someone? Like my sister? Didn't she have a claim to him anyway?
He rubbed the back of his neck. "One night we received an anonymous tip. It was the first solid lead we'd had in months, and of course I jumped on it. I wanted to go righ
t in, guns blazing. My partner, on the other hand, wanted to take some time, scope it out. We compromised." Roman stopped. He stared at the fish and took a deep breath. I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He tilted his head toward me and smiled. I smiled back. A rush of energy buzzed between us, holding me in his mesmerizing gaze. He leaned back, took my hand from his shoulder and held it in his.
My heart flipped. It flopped. It rumbled in my chest, pounding my ribs to bursting.
"In the time we took to create a solid plan, the witch or witches found Sheila. They killed her as a warning to me."
My breath hitched. Dear God, that was tragic. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea."
A sad smile crossed his face. "There are a lot of reasons why I'm not crazy about witches, to say the least. They have a nasty habit of killing people I care about."
"It seems they do," I murmured. "So did you catch them? Did you find the people who killed her?"
He glanced over the green. Kids giggled as they played on the swing set and grappled with giant Lego blocks that the town had shipped in for its children's playground portion of the square. Their laughter filled my heart. As sad as Roman's story was, they reminded me of hope and of joy.
"I found one of them."
"What'd you do?"
"The witch was already dead when I found her. Unfortunately for me, I was alone when I made the discovery. The witch police showed up minutes later and arrested me for the murder." His steel gaze hardened as he stared off. "But I didn't do it."
I exhaled. Thank goodness.
"Since I'd eliminated rogue witches in the past, it was just assumed that I'd killed her. But I didn't. They threw me in jail and were going to execute me, so I escaped. I have a price on my head."
"But then why is Em using you?" I said.
"Because she's the one person who believed in my innocence. That is, her and my old partner." Roman finished his Popsicle and tossed it in the trash can beside us.
I squeezed his hand. "If you can't help, I understand."
"If I'm going to contact the police, I need to know who you suspect."
I took a deep breath and told him.
"You're wrong," he said.
"How do you know?" I bristled. I slid my hand from his and took a long, hard suck of my frozen watermelon treat.
"Because it doesn't make sense. If she'd wanted to do it, she would have offed all of you by now."
So I, being the Miss Smarty-pants that I am, explained my hypothesis.
"That's nothing, darlin'. Not a foot to stand on. The council won't like you accusing a Queen Witch without proof."
"That's what I intend to get at the dinner. Proof. Look, I won't need the police if she's innocent, but if I can match those threads, then it's for sure her, and I'll need the police to make the arrest."
He dug his hands into his pockets and shook his head. "If you think it's her, I'll make the call to get them on standby." He rose, extended his hand to help me up. "You realize, though, I can't be anywhere near there at the time. If something goes wrong…"
I grinned. "Nothing will go wrong. There'll be four other witches there."
He pointed the key chain at the SUV and pressed a button. A short bleep filled the backside of Main. "That's what I'm afraid of."
***
When I got home, Grandma was standing in the middle of the room flapping her arms. "And they squawked like this: squaaaawwwk! Squaaaawwwk!"
I walked over to Sera. "Like to explain what this is about?"
She brushed a parcel of hair from her eyes. "She said no one ever believed her when she talked about the winged monkeys. Said we all thought she was crazy, so she's doing a demonstration. Grandma! I didn't hear you. Can you do it again?"
"Squaaaawwwk!"
I plugged my ears to drown out Grandma's screeching. "That's enough! We hear you. I believe you, Grandma. There are lots of flying monkeys out there, ready to attack at any moment."
She gave a satisfactory nod and sat on our ancient recliner. The darn thing had a bottom cushion that was more bent springs than foam. It was lumpy as all get-out. "About time someone believed me. If I have to summon a monkey to prove it, you won't like it, believe you me. Those are nasty little creatures." She bent her hands to resemble claws. "They scratch and bite. Sometimes they even spit."
"Sounds horrible," I said.
"Yeah," Reid added. "Definitely doesn't sound like something I want to find under my pillow."
"Well, heavens no! I'd have that Tooth Fairy hauled into court for delivering one of those." She wagged her knotted finger at Reid. "You tell me if she does something like that. I'll have her license taken away."
Reid saluted her. "You're the first person I'll call."
"Make sure of it."
"I will."
"So exactly what's going on?" I asked Sera.
Sera shook her head. "Don't even ask. She got on a tirade, and that's been the end of it."
I laid my purse on the table. "Does she know about dinner tomorrow night?"
"She knows."
A buzz sounded from Sera's pocket. She pushed off the wall she'd been leaning on and dug out her phone. After looking at the number, she frowned and pressed a button to silence it.
"Who was that?" I asked.
"No one."
Right. "Tim trying to explain why he got engaged to Olivia?"
She shot a wad of buckshot from her eyes to mine. Nice. Loved getting hate looks from my sister as soon as I got home. "It's nothing," she said.
Fine. "I've got everything all set. The police will be on standby. All we need to do is make sure Em arrives tomorrow."
Sera nodded. "Milly said she's got everything all set. I called her today to follow up."
"Called? Like on a phone?"
"Yeah. She gave me her number in case we ever needed help."
I stroked my chin. My fingers glided over a zit that I'd probably need to pop in the morning. "I suppose I'll have to help you get ready for the banquet on top of everything else."
"I'm counting on it."
I glanced at Grandma, who was looking around the room as if waiting for monkeys to descend on her. "You gonna take care of that?" I joked.
She clapped me on the shoulder. "No. You are. Good luck getting her to bed. I'll see you in the morning."
Panicking, I said, "Where's Nan?"
"She took the night off."
Great. This should be epic. I approached Grandma slowly, like I was trying to wrangle a wild horse.
"Grandma? You ready to go to bed?"
She turned a beady-eyed stare my way. "I am not. I'm angry at you."
"For what?"
She picked up an apple from the fruit bowl on the dining table and shook it at me. "For not telling me you plan on entrapping the queen."
"Sorry. I didn't know I was supposed to tell you."
"It's impossible to keep things from me. I can hear better than most hawks."
"I thought their gift was sight."
She waved her hand. "Whatever. Anyway, I'm looking forward to this. It'll be the most fun I've seen in years." She took a bite of apple and said, "So. When do we catch the witch?"
CHAPTER TWENTY
Fittings filled most of my Friday. Three brides showed up, all wanting original designs for themselves and their bridal parties. I kept my measuring tape around my shoulders all day, ready to whip it off and size this or that body part. By the time the sun reached its apex, I was beat.
I fell into a chair. "Whew. I hope we're done for the day," I said to Carrie, who was busy straightening the clothes on the racks.
"Yeah, that was fun," she said. "Made the morning fly by."
"It certainly did." I glanced out the window and watched as Roman's black SUV pulled up. He got out and walked toward the store. I sat up. He'd only been in the shop one other time. Was everything okay? Did he have to leave? Was he mad at me?
"Carrie, why don't you take lunch? Take an extra hour if you need it to get ready. In fact, sinc
e the banquet is tomorrow, why don't you go ahead and clock out for the day?"
Her eyes widened. "Are you sure?"
"Do we have any more bookings for the afternoon?"
Carrie checked the appointment book on the slender front desk and said, "Nope. Not a one."
I waved her off. "Then go and relax. Get a pedicure. Give yourself a manicure."
She glanced down at her perfect nails. "They do need some touching up. Thanks, Dylan. See you at the banquet tomorrow."
"Bye!"
She walked out right as Roman entered. "You got a second?" he asked.
I motioned to the matching chair across from me. "Have a seat."
He shook his head. "That won't be necessary."
Okay, then don't.
He studied the sea of dresses. "I called my old partner and explained the situation. They'll be ready for you." He handed me a black circular object with a red button protruding from it. "Press this and someone will come."
I studied the smooth object. About the size of a silver dollar, it didn't look impressive. "Does it display a W in the sky? You know, like in 'witch police'?"
He smiled. "No, it doesn't work like a superhero signal. Commissioner Gordon isn't going to appear."
"I was hoping more along the lines of Batman."
"No Batman. Only the witch police."
I slid a finger over the shiny red surface. Seemed normal enough. "I know this is a stupid question, but how does it work?"
"Press the button and an officer will arrive."
"Will it be your partner?"
He shook his head. "No. He's out of the country on a case. It'll be someone else."
I knew what he meant. Someone who thought he was guilty of murder. I held the device carefully, not wanting to set it off. "What if I accidentally press it?"
"It won't be activated until tomorrow."
"Phew. That's good to know. I didn't want to set it off while you're around and have something happen."
"You mean, like my arrest?"
"Exactly."
He smiled. "Glad to know you care."
I met his gaze and that weird, uncomfortable feeling crept over me. The one where I wasn't certain what to do. Do I keep staring? Do I look away?
