by Tara Quan
For good measure, she pinned all four boys to the ground with a telekinetic net. “Anyone else?”
“You bitch!” She turned to find their leader leaning over the dumpster’s edge, a hunk of black metal gripped in his shaking hand. So the dumb kid had even dumber parents who couldn’t bother with a gun locker. Who would’ve thought?
Before she could whack him with something close by, gale-force winds swept through the alley, launched the kid in the air, and pinned him to the adjacent brick wall. The swirling miniature tornado intensified around the boy until his face turned blue. When his head slumped forward, his weapon disappearing amongst the rubbish, the magical storm subsided and dropped him back into the pile of trash.
A familiar low baritone echoed around her. “Didn’t I fucking tell you to wait for me? You could have gotten shot.”
Wincing, she turned to face Mikal. Though already elevated from physical exertion, her heart rate quickened from the visual impact of seeing his sculpted form shown off to panty-melting perfection in a black-leather jacket and dark jeans. He’d looked devastating in a suit, but casual garb gave him an oh-so-sexy edge that would make any girl’s mouth water.
Then she remembered the more pissed he got, the colder his voice. His quiet reprimand could have frozen lava.
“The thing probably wasn’t even loaded,” she muttered.
He strode to crouch in front of the petite lightning mage and pulled out a flashy silver badge bearing Enforcement’s seven-pointed Elven Star. Though the girl had held her own against five drunken attackers, she’d developed a case of the shakes. Sweets wasn’t the only witch wary of the Council. “Hi. I’m agent Mikal Knight. What’s your name?”
“A-Alisha Mehra.”
He shoved the badge back into the inner pocket of his unzipped jacket. “Are you okay, Alisha?”
She nodded. “Will you lock me up in some Enforcement prison in Cuba?”
When Sweets coughed to cover a laugh, he turned to give her the stink-eye. “Where did you hear something like that?”
“It’s all over the Internet,” the kid answered.
She tried to suppress the giggles, but they erupted from her nose and came out as a series of snorts. Thumping her chest to dislodge the ball of air stuck in her throat, she pointed at Alisha. “See, it’s not just me.”
He faced the kid and cleared his throat. “You can’t believe everything you read. My car’s parked outside.”
The girl’s big brown eyes welled up.
“I swear I’m not taking you anywhere but home,” he ground out. When tears ran down her round cheeks, he lifted his left hand. “Scout’s honor.”
For some reason, the childish vow worked. Alisha’s paling face regained color, and the corners of her lips curved up. “May I please walk? If you tell my parents what happened, they’ll never let me go out alone again. It’s not fair. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Kids, even the kick-ass electricity-wielding kind, could be so damn predictable. Sweets edged around the duo toward her backpack. Grabbing it, she walked backward in the direction of the main street, hoping he’d be too distracted to notice.
A gust of wind hit her hard, shoving her once more into the alley’s depths. It didn’t stop until she stood a foot away from its creator. Dropping her bag, she crossed her arms and glared at the top of his dark head. “Show-off.”
Acting as if nothing had happened, he continued to address Alisha. “You used your powers in public. That’s against the rules.”
Sweets was pretty certain this fell under the exigent-circumstances caveat, but mentioning the defense might motivate the single Enforcement agent present to lock her up out of spite.
Alisha pouted. “She stopped me before I did anything, and I totally issued a warning.”
When the kid sent Sweets a pleading look, she nodded to confirm the statement. The teen had followed all the regulations. Left up to her, they would have already parted ways.
Mikal stood. “Your parents and I still need to have a quick chat.” As they reached Sweets’ side, he took her pack from the ground and slung it over his shoulder. “My…colleague will let them know you acted responsibly and stayed safe, which is the absolute truth.”
So much for her plan to rescue and ditch. Maybe mystery one-night-stand dude was running super late.
“What about them?” Sweets nodded at the group still squashed to the ground by the power of her mind. “Shouldn’t I stick around—?”
He closed his fingers around her upper arm, as if he’d known she intended to bolt as soon as they hit the crowds on M Street. “I’ll call in the incident. Once our liaison touches base with Metro PD, they’ll round these guys up.”
Alisha looked around at the four groaning boys before glancing at the dumpster housing the fifth. “Won’t they tell the police what happened?”
“Enforcement has a way of keeping our involvement off the books. Don’t worry,” he assured the girl as he dragged Sweets along. “After those boys sober up at the precinct, they’ll get slapped with underage drinking, drunk and disorderly, and attempted assault charges. If nothing else, their parents will ground them for life.”
Chapter Four
Sweets shrugged off her wool calf-length coat and tossed it on the backseat. In honor of tonight, she’d worn a firework-patterned button-down and a blue pleated skirt cut several inches above the knees. The wind chill had forced her to bundle up all day, and if he didn’t let her leave soon, Mikal would be the sole beneficiary of her rare effort to dress up. “So, on a scale of one to ten, how pissed off are you?”
Without answering, he started the engine and crossed his arms. His following huff led her to gauge his response at a twelve. They’d parked in front of the Mehra family’s low-rise apartment building in Capital South. Though a few minutes’ drive from bustling Georgetown, she’d describe the neighborhood as one of the less safe areas in D.C. After talking Alisha’s dad out of tracking those boys down and striking their houses with bolts of lightning, Mikal accepted the gift of some colorful, exotic sweets, left behind his business card, and extricated them from the brewing teenage tantrum.
They hadn’t spoken a word to each other since leaving the alley. Anger rolled off him in palpable waves, all focused in her direction. While his current mood obliterated the chances of them having sex—the only reason she dared get into his car—the prolonged, disapproving arctic blast gave her goose bumps.
When he continued to pout, she poked his upper arm and fixed him with her best puppy-dog expression. “Come on. You know I hate the silent treatment. Why are you so angry anyway? What did I do?”
Turning his head, he glared at her through narrowed eyes. “You must have some idea.”
She pulled out the elastic holding her ponytail up and shook out her hair. “Umm…no. It’s been a super normal day.”
“That’s the fucking problem,” he roared. “You’ve been playing vigilante for years, and you didn’t tell me?”
She massaged her ear. “Geesh, can you take a chill pill? Which part are you mad about—my kick-ass ninja moves or my being all stealth-like?”
He banged his fist on the steering wheel, setting off the car horn. “Do you take anything seriously?”
“I take a shit ton of things seriously.” She scowled. “Stop freaking out and don’t be so judgmental. I’m here safe and sound, and I could have handled the entire situation without any help from you.” Calling him tonight ranked among the five worst decisions in the past…hmm…couple of weeks at least.
When a few heads poked out of various apartment windows to stare at the single late-model car in a three-block radius, he cursed and pulled onto the street. “This ends tonight, Dulcina. Do you hear me? No more dark alleys or out-of-control mages. You have a vision, you hand it off to me. That’s the end of your involvement. You do not put on a stupid mask and play Batwoman. Am I making myself clear?”
“It’s Catwoman, and don’t talk to me like I’m ten. If it’s an option, of c
ourse I’ll let you deal with it. It’s your job, not mine. I don’t go around doing this for kicks.” And when her visions cut it too close, well…. They’d discuss it later, when he wasn’t on the verge of biting her head off.
Buckling her seat belt, she contemplated her options. Talking him down from this hissy fit required sophisticated strategy, bribes, lots of groveling, and more energy than she had at the moment. Logic dictated she sounded a temporary retreat. “Since you’re going to be cranky for the rest of the night, can you drop me off at the Castillo? On the off chance my one-night stand is nice enough to still be waiting, I want to give this whole date thing a shot.”
For some reason, the statement prompted Mikal to whip his head to face her. “Your one-night stand?”
“Would you please look at the road?” Talk about erratic behavior. To think he’d taught her how to drive. “And yeah. Cat got me this online dating service as a joke—it’s how she hooked up with my future brother-in-law. Anyway, it’s called Madame Eve’s One-Night Stand, and I was supposed to show up at ten. It’s almost eleven, so—”
He slammed on the brakes. “Son of a bitch.”
Massaging the area where the belt strap had bitten into her right boob, she growled, “Dude, we’re in the middle of an intersection. I know you’re mad, but double suicide isn’t the way to go. Move. What’s wrong with you?”
Muttering a string of colorful expletives, he put the car in reverse, backed up, and made a sharp left onto the interstate. With them heading out of the District and across the border to Virginia, she put the chances of her date going through at next to nil. After spending two more minutes traveling down the highway at breakneck speed, she began to suspect their destination might not be her house. She knew him well enough to predict an impending yelling match, and experience warned her it could drag on for hours. The warlock had been on the debate team once, and man could he get longwinded.
She might as well get comfy.
Having spent over half a day in stilettos, her feet were about to fall off. Ignoring her insane driver, she yanked off her boots and slid them behind her seat. Pinching off the socks, she turned around and stuffed them into the side pocket of her backpack, which sat next to her coat. Wiggling her toes, she adjusted the backrest into a slight recline, closed her eyes, and waited for Captain Grouch to begin his opening statement.
A few breaths later, his curt order interrupted the heavy silence. “Open the glove box.”
Lifting one eyelid, she turned her head to the side. “Why?’
“Because I said so.”
Since she cared quite a bit about worming her way back into his good graces, she bent forward and hooked her finger under the latch. When she spotted a familiar crimson envelope inside the open compartment, her brows drew together. “No f—ing way.”
Her hands shaking, she pulled out the vellum invitation. Though too dark to decipher all the text, she got the gist. “Shit fucking hell. You’re my date?”
“Don’t sound so disgusted.”
“I’m not.” She took deep breaths. It seemed their future had switched to playing hardball. How had she not seen this coming? “When and why did you sign up?”
“I didn’t. It’s an undercover op. My boss wanted to make sure there’s no mind control going on, which I now know there isn’t. That leaves one other explanation.”
She clung to her waning belief in the power of chance. “Coincidence?”
He spared her a glance as they crossed the Potomac River. “Do you really think our getting the invitation was an accident?”
She shoved the card back into its original place and slammed the lid shut. “Yup.” By the time the night ended, she might just succeed in convincing herself. “But we shouldn’t push our luck. Let’s make a point to avoid each other….”
He revved the engine, launching them forward even faster. “Is the idea of ending up with me so unthinkable—”
“Of course it isn’t,” she snapped. “It’s so thinkable it keeps on happening no matter how many times I stop it. Why do you think I never hang out with you alone anymore?” Once the words slipped out, she pressed the back of her hand over her lips. Maybe he’d missed that little slip?
His eyes turned a lighter shade of gray a split second before he floored the accelerator. The car rocketed past a flashing speed camera before he slowed down. Even in the dark, she could see a miniature storm brew around his pupils. So much for the slim possibility of his hearing impairment.
She’d get into more trouble if she let him stew. Best to talk her way out of this before he connected all the dots. “You so got a ticket back there.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck. How long have you been doing this?”
It might be too little too late, but evasive maneuvers were worth a shot. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What I meant when I said—”
“Don’t you dare bullshit me.” He lurched onto the side of the road and sent the car to a screeching halt. Turning on the hazard lights, he twisted around to face her. “How long?”
Okay, so that didn’t work. She stuck out her lower lip, wrinkled her nose, and commenced slow blinks. “Please stop yelling.”
“If you start the crocodile tears, I swear to God I’ll put you over my knee and spank you silly.”
Despite knowing full well he’d issued an empty threat, the prospect sounded kind of hot. Focus, Sweets—not the best time to think about kinky sex. “What could little old me do to a big bad warlock like you?”
He took a deep breath before banging the dashboard with his fist. That must have hurt. “Don’t insult my intelligence. For the third time, Dulcina, how long have you been changing our fate?”
She examined her fingernails. “There’s no such thing as fate.”
“You do not want to fuck with me tonight.” He grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “I should have guessed what you were up to. You’ve been a manipulative, scheming little witch, and it’s my life you kept screwing over. I want to know what you did and why.”
“Maybe I just don’t like you.”
“Try again.”
Shaking her head, she pursed her lips and glanced away. For one, not having spent too much thought on her own motivations, she didn’t have a good answer. The minor alterations to the timeline had all seemed right at the moment of execution—end of story. But if she told him that, he’d get his panties even more in a wad.
With a grunt, he let go of her, turned off the emergency flashers, and continued down the highway until they crossed into Northern Virginia. “The first time was three years ago, wasn’t it?”
His words sent a chill down her spine. The timing couldn’t have been a coincidence. Fireworks at midnight started this, and she’d foreseen the same sparks coloring their naked bodies earlier this morning. “There’s no first—”
He took a turn too fast, the momentum sending her into the door. “New Year’s Eve. Times Square. We were supposed to kiss, but you spilled your drink on my shirt.”
“It was an accident.”
“And pigs fly.”
Her heart thudded as the car careened into a dimly lit park bordering the river. “Are you going to listen to me?”
“Not when I know you’re lying. You did it again, three months later, on Easter, and when I came down for Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Every time I stayed in D.C., every time you and Shelley visited in New York, something almost happened. But you made up your mind I wasn’t good enough.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re awesome sauce—a specimen of male perfection. Why would I ever—”
“You set out to screw some random guy tonight so you wouldn’t spend it with me.”
She flinched at the combination of hurt and fury behind his accusation. Okay, he had a point there, but that snarling tone was way out of line. She snuck a quick peek at his face. Pissed off might be the understatement of the century.
His hands clenched over the steering wh
eel as he veered off-road past a wood turnstile. The car came to a jerky stop in a darkened spot by the water. Willow trees bordered them on both sides, the long sweeping vines forming a curtain behind them. Through the glass, she glimpsed the Washington Monument on the horizon. Though she’d never set foot here before, she recognized the view.
Check and mate. Time to concede defeat to Madame Eve.
“How many men have you fucked in my place?”
She swung her head around and gaped at him. “You have no rights over me. None.”
Unbuckling his seat belt, he pivoted and captured her shoulders. His eyes had turned almost white; his chest heaved as if he’d run for miles. “How many?”
Her temper already frayed, she shoved at his chest. “Stop acting like a cave monkey. There’s been no one, all right? I’m a twenty-one-year-old virgin, thanks to you, so if anyone has a reason to be angry, it’s me.”
He stared at her in stunned silence. Then his shoulders shook, and he threw his head back with a roaring laugh that seemed to continue for eons.
She stared at the digital clock. If he kept this up for another minute, she’d levitate one of her boots and smack him in the face.
Through shallow chuckling gasps, he teased, “You dicked with our lives for three whole years, and you didn’t even get laid?”
And just like that, she had her friend back. Pursing her lips, she fought a smile. He didn’t get to ignore her wishes, raise his voice, and make fun of her without suffering some consequences. “I’ve been busy.”
“With what?”
“Getting my damn life together.”
He hit his hands on the steering wheel and hooted. “This is so freaking hilarious.”
She crossed her arms. “It’s my power’s fault. All these magical accidents keep messing up my schedule.”
“Drop the act.” He rolled his eyes. “I know you have the hots for me.”
“Do not.”
“I’ve got an invitation from a true matchmaker that says you do.”
