by T. M. Cromer
“Think he was testing you?” Winnie asked.
“That’s what it seemed like.”
A meep from the staircase caught her attention. Morty sat, rubbing his eyes and looking at the bat with concern.
Summer held open her arms. “Come here, my sweet boy.”
Morty loped over and climbed into her lap. He signed the question, “Where did Nash go?”
“You know Nash?” she asked, shocked to her toes.
“He visits me,” the chimp signed.
She and Winnie exchanged incredulous stares.
“What? What did he say?” Coop asked. While he’d learned some sign language, he wasn’t quite fluent.
“He said Nash has been visiting him.” She hugged Morty tight. It terrified her that her beloved pet could’ve been so easily snatched from beneath her nose.
“I thought you warded this place like the Thorne estate. How did he get in?” Winnie wanted to know.
“I did, and I don’t know. My crappy skills as a witch?”
“No. I don’t think so. He must not have intended to harm you or Morty. But he was definitely trying to gain information,” Winnie surmised.
“I agree,” Coop inserted. “Sweetheart, your magic is stronger than you realize. Remember, I’ve seen you in action.”
“We need to see about getting your parents to unlock your powers, Coop. Then we can begin your training. I think you are going to need to be at full force when we search for that rock. Too many people want it, and I could very well bring the world crashing down around us if I attempt to protect us.”
“I’ve got a message in to my father. The time difference between here and Italy is screwing us,” he told her.
Winnie stood and stretched. “On that note, I’m going to head home, fill Spring in on what happened, and give Autumn a call. Let me know if you hear from Holly.”
Summer stood and hugged her sister. “Thanks. And thanks for shuttling Coop.” She cast him a side glance. “Perhaps soon he’ll be able to pop back and forth on his own.”
“Want us to come back in the morning for a pow wow?”
Coop embraced Summer from behind. “Not too early,” he said to Winnie. “We like to sleep in.”
“Is that code for morning sex?” Winnie teased.
“Yep.” Coop laughed when Summer elbowed him.
“I’ll text you when we are awake,” Summer said.
“Later, kids!” Winnie chirped and disappeared.
“I’m starved,” Summer said with a hand on her belly. Stressful situations made her hungry after the fact.
“Me, too,” he said and nuzzled her neck.
“Pfft. Keep it in your pants, big boy. I need sustenance first.”
Morty hooted.
“So does Sir Mortimer.”
Coop released her with a sigh and clasped Morty’s outstretched hand. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you fed.”
Summer watched the two of them for a minute before she lifted Nash’s card with shaky fingers. She fully intended to do a bit of online research tonight. Time to figure out what Thorne Industries specialized in.
The next morning, Coop showed up bright and early at Thorne Industries. Because he was in uniform and layered the charm on thick, the receptionist didn’t pay attention to the fact that he wasn’t an official of their particular town.
The receptionist escorted him to the waiting area of Nash’s private offices with a smile that suggested she’d be happy to escort him anywhere he cared to go. He offered up a polite smile and picked up a magazine from the coffee table in front of the modern black and chrome sofa. When she took the hint and left, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Once upon a time, he might have taken her up on the come-hither look, but the only woman he desired now was the zany blonde who had turned his world upside down with her magic and laughter.
A woman with purple-streaked black hair glided by him without looking up from the folder where she had her nose buried. “If you’re waiting for Nash, it could be a while,” she said, not bothering to spare him a glance.
“I’ll wait.”
The edge in his voice must’ve warned her he wouldn’t be put off. Her head came up and obsidian-like eyes studied him. A slow, appreciative smile found its way to her lovely face. “Why do I have the feeling you aren’t happy with my boss?”
“That obvious?”
“In all fairness, he’s a good guy, but his social skills leave a lot to be desired.”
“He tried to kill my girlfriend last night. Where does that fall on the scale of social skills?” he asked silkily.
She had no comeback. Eyes wide and mouth slack, she looked like he was the one who had attacked her with a bat—poleaxed.
“I didn’t try to kill her. I was testing her reflexes,” retorted the man in question.
Both Coop and the dark-eyed assistant faced Nash, who lounged in the opening of the hallway beside his office.
Coop casually strolled to the other man. He sized him up and down before his fist whipped out and connected with the bastard’s jaw. “Doesn’t look like your reflexes are nearly as fast as hers.”
Nash shook off the punch and glared at Coop. “I’ll give you that one. But I promise you, if you touch me again, you’ll pull back a stump.”
“Are you boys done pissing in each other’s Wheaties? Because if you are, Nash and I have work to do. If you’re not, you might want to take this outside,” Nash’s employee stated in an unconcerned voice.
Coop noted the amusement in Nash’s eyes as he regarded the woman. There was an element of something more, but it was quickly banked.
Interesting. Coop filed it away for future use.
“Summer wanted me to escort you back to her house for a chat.” Coop crossed his arms over his chest in a display of intimidation.
He could’ve saved his energy because Nash didn’t seem impressed or intimidated in the least. In fact, the other man smirked.
Coop had the sudden desire to wipe the floor with the prick.
“Let me guess, she now has reinforcements in the form of her sisters?”
“You guessed it in one, asshole. And here I thought you weren’t so smart.”
Without tearing his eyes from Coop’s hostile gaze, Nash addressed his assistant. “Ryanne, will you cancel my meetings for today? I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Alastair Thorne is your ten o’clock.”
A muscle worked in Nash’s jaw and his eyes turned arctic. “Then I guess my father is going to have to reschedule, isn’t he?” he snapped.
“Yes, sir.”
She said it in much the same way Lil did when she was pissed at Coop over some imagined slight. He almost felt sorry for Nash. The poor bastard was going to get the cold shoulder for the next few days.
As the fast clip of her heels in retreat tapped out her agitation, Nash’s hungry gaze followed her.
“Does she know you’re crazy about her?” Coop asked.
“I’m not.”
“You are. I recognize the look.” Curious, he asked, “Why don’t you tell her? Is she married? I didn’t see a ring.”
Black rage darkened Nash’s face. “She’s not for the likes of you.”
Coop held up his hands. “Whoa, buddy! I’m not interested. I’m taken and happy for it.”
A grudging nod was all the answer he received. “Let’s go.”
Before Nash could snap his fingers, Coop cleared his throat. “Yeah, I drove here.”
A look of long-suffering took the place of Nash’s anger. “Of course you did.” He checked his Rolex. “That’s over a two-hour drive. You must’ve got an early start.”
Heat rose in Coop’s cheeks. The slur against his magical abilities—or lack thereof—was implied.
“Come, Sheriff. I’ll teleport you, although you should really learn that particular skill. It comes in handy, say, when you need to protect your woman.”
“I am going to delight in rearranging your face,” Coop growled.
>
“Ah, ah, ah!” Nash waved a finger in admonishment. “No threatening the transportation. Why, I might get nervous and drop you on the side of a mountain by mistake.”
“I’ll drive.”
“I don’t have all day to wait for you,” Nash said, suddenly impatient. “Come with me now, and I’ll have your vehicle returned to you later this afternoon.” Without giving Coop time to process the plan, Nash touched his shoulder and had them in Summer’s kitchen.
Coop braced his hands on the island counter to catch his breath. “I’m never going to get used to that.”
“You will when you are the one in control,” Nash assured him. “Where is my sister?”
“Probably in the barn or at her new office. I don’t think she expected us this soon.”
A meep caught their attention. Coop spread his arms, and Morty loped over to him.
“Hey, buddy!” Coop said as he lifted the chimp. “Did Mama make your breakfast yet, or are you trying to mooch more food?”
“He’s trying to con you,” Nash said dryly as he cast a look around the spacious kitchen.
Coop frowned. “How do you know?”
“His thoughts.”
“Ah, I should’ve known. Can all witches and warlocks read the minds of animals?”
“No. I know most of the Thornes have the ability, but I believe only about ten percent of the magical community in general can accomplish mind reading. The Thorne line, like the Carlyle line, is pure.” Nash stopped his perusal of the pantry he was exploring to glance over his shoulder. “You’ll be able to as soon as you regain your power.”
“You know about that?”
“I make it my business to know everything about everyone. The dossiers I have on this family and anyone connected to it would blow your mind.”
Coop grunted. He’d like to take a look at those files but didn’t dare ask. Instead he went with, “How long have you been spying on Summer?”
“Spying? That’s such an ugly word.”
“What would you call it?”
“Spying. But still, it’s an ugly word.”
Coop laughed. Nash was an asshole, to be sure, but the guy’s sense of humor appealed to him.
Nash set eggs, cheese, and toast on the counter. “Breakfast sandwich?”
“You’re certainly making yourself at home.”
Summer’s brother shrugged in a very Thorne-like way. “I’m hungry.”
It was the first real inclination that Nash might be nervous. The one thing Coop had noted in the time he’d gotten to know the sisters was that they all ate when they were worried.
“Sure. I’ll take one.”
Coop fed bites of fruit to Morty while the three of them waited for Summer to return.
“So, about Ryanne. Why don’t you ask her out?”
“She’s my employee,” Nash said coldly.
“She’s hot, and she likes you, too.”
Nash’s sharp gaze shot up.
Coop nodded. “Yep. I can tell.”
The other man went back to devouring his meal without comment, but Coop sensed the guy was a bit more optimistic about a relationship with his assistant.
“Thornes only love once. Did you know that?” he said.
Nash grunted. “Yes, an unfortunate side effect of our genetics. Being descended from Isis has its drawbacks.”
“Isis? Like the Goddess?”
“The very one.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“You might be if you stick around this family,” Nash countered.
31
Summer arrived to find Coop and Nash bonding over sandwiches piled high with bacon, eggs, and cheese. She snorted her disgust and shot Coop the glare o’ death. “Really?”
“If it makes you feel any better, he punched me in the face,” Nash informed her as he wiped his fingers on a paper napkin.
“Perhaps a little,” she grumbled.
Her brother compressed his mouth in what she assumed was an effort to hide his grin. He needn’t have bothered. His amusement was obvious.
“My sisters will be arriving shortly. We weren’t expecting you to return this soon.”
“I decided to forgo the lengthy car ride.” Nash stood and cleared the table.
When he started loading dishes in the dishwasher, Summer stated her surprise.
A slight flush dusted his cheekbones.
It reminded Summer of the few times she’d caught Alastair performing a task not fitting his nature.
“I’m a bit of a neat freak,” he said as he completed his cleaning duties by wiping the table.
“I’m not complaining,” she assured him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.” He tossed the dishcloth toward the sink.
“You made a noise before swinging the bat in the barn. Then again when you showed up in my kitchen.” She met his steady gaze. “You don’t strike me as the type to show his hand. You seem stealthier than that.”
“I didn’t hear a question.”
Coop rose and crossed to the sink. “She’s asking if you intentionally alerted her to the strike.”
“Yes. As I told your modern-day Wyatt Earp here, I was testing your reflexes.”
“I’ve got your Wyatt Earp,” Coop growled.
Again, Nash smirked as if he found them vastly amusing.
“You have Alastair’s mannerisms. I’m assuming he’s your father, too,” Summer said. “Do you have a different mother, or is my mother the same as yours and that was hidden from us as well?”
“Different mother. I’m older than you by about three years.” Nash picked up his coffee mug and stared down into the bottom of the cup as if looking for answers. “My mother was a witch from the Gillespie line. She was a cousin to GiGi’s husband, Ryker.”
“Was?”
A flash of grief flitted across his face before he blanked his expression. “She’s dead. Fourteen years now.”
“I’m sorry, Nash.”
He acknowledged her words with a slight nod and drained his mug.
“Were they married? You have the last name Thorne.”
“No. Alastair insisted I have his name, and Mother always went along with whatever King Alastair decreed.”
“You basically said there was no love lost between you.”
“Look, he’s a dangerous man. Add his magical ability, and you have a lethal combination.” Irritation made his tone sharp.
“What do you do at Thorne Industries?”
“My company finds and guards powerful magical objects for the witches’ council. It’s my job to stop people like Alastair from getting his hands on things that could reduce the planet to rubble.”
“The Chintamani Stone,” she guessed.
“Yes.”
Summer noted Coop’s troubled gaze. Did he believe Nash was lying? She shifted her attention back to Nash. Why did she feel he was one step ahead of her? It was as if he had started a game of wits and she was clueless as to the rules.
“I need that stone, Nash.”
“Why?”
“My mother is knocking on death’s door. She doesn’t have long. I can feel it. The stone can revive her.”
“According to whom? Our father?” He shook his head in disgust. “Don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth, Summer. He’ll use you and spit you out like he’s done to everyone who has ever believed in him.”
“You included?” she asked softly.
His clouded eyes met hers. “Me included.”
Damned if she didn’t believe him and like him all the more for his honesty.
“What did he do to you?”
“It’s a story for another day. You have incoming.”
“Incoming?”
The air crackled around them, and Alastair appeared.
Casually, he moved farther into the room to stand beside her. “Hello, son.”
“Hello, sperm donor.”
Had Summer not been watching her father, she’d have missed the sub
tle flash of humor in Alastair’s eyes before he fastened his standard arrogant armor in place.
“I can see you’re becoming acquainted with your sister.”
“Just trying to warn the poor woman about the pitfalls of being your kin.”
“Summer is incredibly astute. I believe she can make up her own mind,” Alastair said.
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. For some reason, women seem to be taken in by your fake charm. Personally, I find your level of smarmy gives me indigestion. But to each their own,” Nash countered.
These two men were much alike in coloring and height. Even their verbal swordplay spoke of a similar sharpness of mind. But where Alastair wore an air of indifference, Nash’s passion for his cause shone through.
Coop, ever the clear-headed mediator, inserted himself between the two men. “Before this conversation comes to blows, can we shelve the animosity?”
“Fine, but I get the last word,” Nash said. He lifted a brow and faced Alastair. “This is said in all seriousness. You have to rethink the hair product. It makes you look like a movie villain.”
Coop choked on the coffee he was sipping and required a pounding on the back by Summer.
“Why do I feel like we’ve been here before?” she murmured.
“I’ll send you the bill for the chiropractor,” he retorted.
In a self-conscious gesture, Alastair touched his hair and looked to Summer for confirmation. She wrinkled her nose and nodded.
“I only use it to keep the hair out of my eyes,” he explained.
“May I?” she asked with a gesture toward his scalp.
He nodded, and she was left to wonder how he portrayed such trust when he had to be squirming inside.
With a wave of her hand, she closed her eyes and visualized a David Beckham-ish style; shorter on the sides but longer and wavy on top. She imagined his hair with subtle highlights and lowlights. When she opened her eyes, she caught her breath.
Alastair, with his modernized style, was drop-dead gorgeous.
“Oh, Dad!” she breathed.
Nerves got the better of him, and he produced a mirror with a snap of his fingers.
